The Barefoot Baroness

Chapter Two

It was early in April when the baroness and her chaperone drew up to Oakdene in a grand but antiquated and extremely dusty traveling carriage. It was a berlin, dating from the middle of the previous century, with small wheels in front, larger ones behind. Its roof was a green leather dome, the doors mahogany with gilt panels trimmed in pink flowers. Venetian shutters at the windows were drawn to block out the sun. At the front was the driver's seat, looking for the world like a giant man's boot, turned up at the toe.

The whole contraption was so enormous and so stoutly built that the six hardy nags harnessed to it were puffing from exertion. It belonged in a museum, and the only possible reaction was to laugh, until Laura recalled that it was she who would have to drive through London inside it. Well, at least it had those shutters to hide her shame.

"Oh, dear, what on earth is that?" her mama said weakly. "It looks like a small mansion on wheels."

Laura peered with the keenest interest through the saloon window to see what sort of appearance the ladies made. When at last the step was drawn down and the ladies descended, they were seen to look at home to a peg in their baroque chariot. Hettie Traemore was wrapped up in a black cape with a nest of burgundy feathers covering her head like a bowl. Olivia wore a green traveling suit, brilliant as new grass, heavily epauletted with gold trim and many brass buttons. Her bonnet was similar to her aunt's, but smaller. She had grown into a large girl, approximately five feet and nine inches. She walked at an awkward gait, gazing all around and up at the house as she advanced. The host of admirers Laura had been imagining mentally evaporated.

Laura feared the baroness would need every ounce of her tin and every guinea of her dowry to attach even a modest parti. She took heart when Olivia was actually before her, with her bonnet removed. Her tousled red curls were not unattractive. Aside from the freckles, her face was quite pretty. A pair of dancing blue eyes spoke of a cheerful disposition, and her curtsey was a model of grace.

Olivia looked up and said, "Did I do it right? Mademoiselle Dupre has been giving me lessons."

"Very elegant," Laura replied.

There was no grace in Hettie Traemore. She moved with the labored steps of an invalid, putting her weight on a black thorn walking stick. "What a trip," she sighed. "You must marry a London gentleman, Livvie, and let him take you home, for I cannot even think of driving all the way back to Cornwall." Her sallow face looked haggard. Under her eyes, purple smudges spoke of sleepless nights.

The ladies were led to the saloon, where they gratefully sunk on to the sofa. "I would give my eye tooth for a nice cup of tea," Hettie sighed.

Tea was brought, and while it was drunk, the visitors sang the praises of their carriage. They didn't know how they could have made such a journey without it. "How anyone can endure being tossed about in those light barouches and landaux is beyond me," Mrs. Traemore said. "Our berlin sits the road very well, does it not, Livvie?"

"Oh, yes. It has four leather springs, which make it impossible to overturn. When that driver became impatient at Taunton and tried to pass us, it was his carriage that overturned. There was not room on the road for two carriages. We cannot travel so quickly as the lighter carriages-only six miles an hour-but we are perfectly safe and excessively comfortable."

Laura foresaw a wearying trip, if they were to block the busy road to London with a pace of six miles an hour. The carriage might not be dangerous, but the wrath of fellow travelers might quite possibly put their lives in peril.

"Are you looking forward to your presentation, dear?" Mrs. Harwood inquired of Olivia.

"Indeed I am. I am all atremble to think of meeting the queen."

Her naivete in granting frumpy old Queen Charlotte top priority was further evidence of just how far Cornwall was from London.

"But you will enjoy the balls and parties," Laura said.

"I have got a dozen gowns made up. You will tell me whether they need more trim, cousin," she replied, "for of course you know all about London. Is it true they party all day long?"

"They trot pretty hard at the height of the Season," she replied vaguely.

Olivia's eyes shone with excitement. "I want to see the horses at Astley's Circus, and the animals at Exeter Exchange."

These treats at least did not require an escort, and they were promised.

Mrs. Traemore required three days of rest before she could be persuaded to continue the journey. During that time, Olivia never left Laura's heels. She trotted after her like a puppy, asking questions, and volunteering information about her own life, which appeared to consist of riding and taking assorted lessons to prepare her for her debut. She was such a good-natured child that Laura soon grew fond of her. One could certainly not say that her title and fortune had gone to her head. She put on no airs, nor did she apologize for her rusticity.

"I have never walked out with a gentleman. In fact, I have never been alone with one. If anyone tries to kiss me, I shall land him a facer," she confided one evening after dinner. "Would that be considered farouche, cousin?"

"Not so farouche as a gentleman trying to kiss you. You would do quite right to-er-land him a facer, but perhaps you ought not to use the language of grooms when you are in London."

"Our grooms would not say that. They would 'draw his cork and darken his daylights,' " she explained. "I shall miss them, for in the usual way I spend most of my time at the stable. I wanted to bring my mounts with me, but Aunt Hettie said you would know where I can buy one."

"Tattersall's would be the place," Laura advised. Olivia's ignorance of city life was so thorough that Laura, with her few scraps of knowledge, continued to pass as an expert.

"You will take me," Olivia said.

"I am afraid ladies do not go there, Livvie. We must ask one of our gentlemen friends to perform that office for us."

"I am so glad I have you to advise me, for I am a regular greenhead. I don't know what I should do if you had not come."

Laura just smiled uncomfortably. All this was very gratifying, but, in fact, she had no gentlemen friends in London to perform such errands as this, and once they arrived, Olivia would soon realize it. "You can always hire a mount," she said. "That is what I shall do."

"Yes," Olivia said reluctantly, "but the best mounts are not usually for hire, are they?"

"Riding in London hardly requires the best mounts. In Rotten Row, the pace is not so fast as you are used to. It is more of a social outing, meeting friends…"

Olivia nodded understandingly. "We shall escape to the country for a good bruising ride from time to time. Some of your gentlemen friends will accompany us. You know, there is just one thing that confuses me, cousin."

Laura looked to hear what this might be.

"I wonder that you did not accept an offer during your first Season, or during the few years since then." Laura colored up, but Olivia soon found her own reason. "I expect you are very choosy. I cannot be so particular. I have only this one Season to find a husband. Auntie thinks that with my dowry and your connections, I might find someone."

Laura could not imagine where this illusion of her vast experience and connections came from. Perhaps to Olivia and her aunt, sequestered in Cornwall, any lady who had had a Season was seen as experienced. The occasional letters she wrote to Cornwall mentioned the highlights of a whole year-a few balls and assemblies and an occasional trip here or there. From this they had made her into their mentor, when she was not much better equipped than they to guide Olivia through the shoals and narrows of a London Season. But she would do her best, for it was now patently clear that Olivia and Hettie Traemore had no more notion of society than they had of building a cathedral.

The day for their departure finally came. Mrs. Harwood's carriage was used to carry their trunks. Laura hoped she could talk the ladies into it, and let the berlin carry the luggage, but she had no success. Hettie's back required the carriage that held the road, and held up traffic for miles.

By the time they reached London, the carriage was widely known by sight, for half of the ton had spent time behind it. In fact, it had become such a byword that it had been given a title: its green dome and slow pace earned it the nickname 'the Turtle.' But its heavy bulk and leather springs did provide an exceedingly comfortable ride. Its interior was so spacious that a folding table could be arranged between the banquettes to hold needle work or a book. As Mrs. Harwood pointed out, when she could find a moment's privacy with her daughter, "It's like sitting at home on the sofa. You'd hardly know you were moving."

"We hardly were moving," Laura said, laughing. "I looked out the window at the crest of a hill, and counted nineteen carriages behind us, trying to pass. The grooms were shaking their fists and hollering."

"Were they hollering? The berlin is so well insulated that I didn't hear them.”

The trip of seventy-five miles from Oakdene to London took two days of hard driving. At twilight of the second day, the coach lumbered up to the door of a handsome brick mansion on Charles Street.

"Do you think it will do?" Hettie asked, with a worried glance to Laura, the expert. "It has a ballroom, and the dining room seats twenty. We hired the servants with the house, just bringing our own groom. And, of course, my dresser and Livvie's woman went on ahead of us to make things ready."

"It will do admirably," Laura decreed. Much better than the little house from which I made my bows five years ago, she added to herself.

All was elegance inside. An impressive butler, Collins, greeted them at the door and led them into a marble-floored entrance. Statues in niches peered down on them from the walls. The first glimpse showed a staircase flowing gracefully upward at their left. They went into the largest saloon, an impressive chamber created by Adam, with embossed ceilings and two of his famous fireplaces. The predominant color, set by curtains and sofas, was a pale strawlike gold. Some green in the carpet and odd chairs gave the feeling of a meadow in spring.

"It was hired furnished, of course," Hettie said. "Lord Montford is not coming to London this year. The estate agent said he needed the money, poor soul. He must be in deep trouble to let out his house to strangers for a thousand pounds."

"That is pretty steep for six weeks!" Mrs. Harwood exclaimed.

"I feel badly taking advantage of him. But then we are taking the hire of his servants off his hands, so in all he will be getting two thousand. I hope it helps to settle his cash problem. Now before we take another step, ladies, what do you say to a nice cup of tea?"

Hettie hobbled on her thorn stick to the most uncomfortable-looking chair in the room and eased herself into it with a grunt. She needed a firm chair for her back. Olivia found the bell cord and pulled it, and in minutes, servants appeared bearing silver trays laden with tea and dainties.

The evening was spent settling into their new home and perusing the journals for entertainments.

"How will anyone know we are here?" Hettie asked.

"We must put a notice in the journals," Laura said.

Hettie just shook her head at such cleverness and repeated once again that she didn't know what they should do without her.