Carola Dunn by The Fortune-Hunters

necks.”
    “Pearls it is. She’ll have the finest matched set in the country. I’ll have Jack Perrin find ‘em for me.”
    “Earrings are acceptable,” Jessica conceded graciously, “and perhaps a second string to twine in her hair. Strictly for the ballroom, mind!”
    He reached across the table and patted her cheek, just as Lucy returned, followed by Mrs. Woodcock and a tea tray borne by a footman in eggshell blue and gold. For a moment Jessica wondered whether to suggest that Mr. Pearson repaint his barouche in some nice conventional colour like maroon. She decided enough had been accomplished for one day.
    Half an hour later, the blue, gold-curlicued barouche returned her to North Parade. Nathan happened to arrive at the same moment.
    “Well?” he enquired as he handed her down.
    “Wait and see,” she said smugly. She had no intention of telling him that Lucy’s papa was a Cit, but she felt he needed some explanation for the girl’s oddities. “Mrs. Woodcock has not been in Society for thirty years, it seems, and her notions of what is suitable for a debutante are positively Gothick. Lucy is lucky to have avoided being forced into hoops!”
    “You have been successful, I collect. Well, I shan’t make you wait for my news. I went round to see Walsingham this morning...”
    “What a surprise. You do so every day, do you not?”
    “You really must get out of this habit of interrupting a fellow!” He opened the front door and followed her in, dropping his hat and gloves on the hall table. “I’m sure it’s deuced unladylike. As I was trying to say, he showed me some drawings he’s been doing—plans, I suppose you’d call them—and he mentioned that you had expressed an interest. Being a bachelor he can’t properly invite you to his house, so I asked him to dine with us and bring the plans for you to see.”
    “To dine! Gracious heavens, I must consult Mrs. Ancaster. It is late in the day for marketing. And you must ask Hayes for suggestions about wines and send Tad out to buy what’s needed. And Sukey must press my blue silk, and I must make sure Aunt Tibby is not planning to spend the evening with her retired clergyman and his wife, and...”
    Nathan laughed. “I didn’t mean to throw you into high fidgets. I hope I know better than to spring such a thing on you at the last moment—I invited him for tomorrow.”
    “Wretch!” she said, hugging him. “Why did you not say so sooner? We absolutely must put on a good show.”
    Jessica began her preparations early the next day. Everything must be quite perfect, and in view of their minimal staff she and Nathan and Tibby all had to lend a hand. For several hours the household was at sixes and sevens, but by the time she went up to change for dinner, order was emerging from chaos. The dining room table gleamed with crystal and silver on a snowy cloth, and appetizing aromas drifted from the nether regions, where Mrs. Ancaster was putting forth her best efforts.
    “You’d think it was the Prince Regent hisself coming to dinner,” she grumbled to Sukey as she added a last pinch of seasoning to the gravy. “Here, taste this.” She held out a wooden spoon.
    “Mmm, that’s one o’ your best for sure, Mrs. Ancaster. Mr. Walsingham’s more important to Miss Jess nor any prince,” the maid replied, and they exchanged a look of complicity.
    His livery coat freshly sponged, Tad was stationed in the hall. The moment the door knocker sounded he sprang to open the door, and as Mr. Walsingham stepped across the threshold, Hayes appeared as if by magic to usher him into the drawing room. The butler found himself with a bedewed bottle of chilled champagne in each hand.
    “Sir?” he said, startled.
    “Haven’t you heard the news?”
    The commotion his report elicited was audible in the drawing room, but when he entered Jessica pretended she had not heard it. She looked up, rose and came forward to greet him, surprised by his look of elation.
    “Miss