Complications Read Online Free PDF Page B

views before his death four years ago. Amelia loved the poetry, though,
and the rich Scottish language it was written in, something else that society
frowned upon these days. Speaking or writing Scottish dialect or with a
Scottish accent was considered uncultured, something Amelia privately thought
ludicrous.
    She let Walker help her into a simple
morning dress, the plain white design improved by lace and embroidery, and, as
always, did not correct Walker’s use of the word lassie .
    At breakfast the butler held out a tray for
Mrs Daventry upon which was an invitation. Amelia brightened at the sight of
it, wondering what form of entertainment it promised. She lowered her cup of
chocolate and waited.
     “Mr Brightford is holding a ball,” Mama
said, “and has invited us.”
    “Oh, no.” Amelia groaned, her hopes
shattered. “If he holds a ball it will be as tedious as he is.”
    Mr Daventry put his newspaper down on the
dining table. “I do not know what you have against Mr Brightford. He is
intelligent and not unkind.”
    Amelia laughed. “Yet the best you can say
of him is that he is not unkind . He is sneering and condescending and I
am quite sure he dislikes me as heartily as I dislike him.”
    “Then you do not wish to attend the ball?”
Mama queried.
    Amelia paused with her cup halfway to her
mouth, considering the astonishing idea of turning down such an invitation. Even
a ball held by Mr Brightford was better than none. “I suppose I could suffer
his company for one evening.”
    She finished her breakfast then took the
carriage to see Lottie and discuss the important subject of ball gowns. It was
not generally permissible to call upon an acquaintance before one in the
afternoon, a morning call actually occurring any time in the afternoon before
dinner, but she and Lottie had long-since done away with such formalities, both
usually dressed and breakfasted by the unfashionably early time of ten o’clock.
     “I do not know if
it is a good idea,” Lottie said, as they sat in her bedroom, when Amelia mentioned
the subject of the ball. Her family had, of course, received invitations too
but, even though three weeks had past since Mr Saverney’s desertion, Lottie had
attended no social events. It had been as much as Amelia could do to coax her
to the park or to the shops.
    “Nonsense,” Amelia said firmly, an image in
her mind of Lottie becoming a permanent recluse. “Nothing could be better. Everyone
will be agog to meet Mr Brightford’s cousins and find out if his odiousness
runs in the family…”
    “That is unkind,” Lottie objected but
Amelia saw her smile.
    “… So no one will even think about any
other gossip. Besides, Mr Saverney is old news now. This is your chance to have
some fun and you are taking it.”
    “It would be pleasant to dance again and
forget about … the past. Not that anyone is likely to ask me to dance.”
    “I wager you are entirely wrong there and
to prove your side of the bet you will have to attend the ball.”
    Lottie smiled. “Very well.”
    Amelia gave an internal sigh of relief at
this victory and got back to the subject of what they should both wear.
    * * *
    Amelia entered the assembly room with her
parents where Mr Brightford was greeting guests, two unknown men at his side. He
introduced the brown-haired man, who looked to be a few years older than him,
as Mr Alexander Fenbridge. The blond man, who seemed in his mid-twenties like
Brightford, was another cousin, Mr Nathaniel Fenbridge. They bowed and smiled
at Amelia and her parents in a way that suggested a friendliness of character
she instantly liked.
    Another group entered the room so they
could not linger to talk to the men, but two good-looking new gentlemen were an
excellent start to the evening. She curtsied and exchanged greetings with
several acquaintances, the ball already more than half full of people in full
dress, the pale colours of the unmarried women’s dresses competing with the
brighter ones