The Unaccomplished Lady Eleanor by Wendy Burdess Page A

Could do with eatin g a few less macaroons if you ask me. ’
      Eleanor looked over to where Milly was indicating and observed the plump forms of Cynthia and Felicity Carmichael alighting from their burgundy carriage.  The older woman was dressed in a fussy turquoise gown, much too young for her advancing years.  Felicity wore a similar creation in an unflattering shade of pink.  T hey made their way to the crowds already gathered on the lawn. 
      ‘ My, ’ si ghed Milly, surveying the crowd, ‘ a in’t it all grand, miss?   I ain’t never seen such a sight in all my life. ’
      Although d evoid of any inclination to partake in the affair, even Eleanor had to admit that it was indeed grand.  From the crests on the carriages she had observed, it appeared that all of the nobility from London and the surrounding area had travelled to Whitlock for the party. 
      ‘ Oh, ’ gasped Milly suddenly, grasping Eleanor’s arm.  ‘ Did you ever see such a fine gown , miss ? ’
      Eleanor’s gaze followed the younger girl’s and came to rest on a tall, reed-slim woman, with exotically arranged ebony hair, wearing a white silk gown a dorned only by the si mple white netting of the sleeves .  It was a dress so plain and so exquisite that it awarded its wearer an angelic air and made every other gown at the party appear brash and over- fussy.  The woman was holding the arm of a much older but very distinguished - looking gentleman with silver-grey hair , dressed equally as stylishly.  The two cut a most dashing pair.   
      Something was nagging at Eleanor that she knew this woman from somewhere.  Then, in a flash, she remember ed.  ‘ That, Milly, ’ she announced, ‘ is the Duchess of Swinton. ’
      Milly’s eyes almost popped out of her pretty head.
     
    The Duke and Duchess of Swinton threaded their way through the ever-inc reasing crowd , heading, it seemed, towards their hostess , the dowager , who was evidently in the process of dishing out a list of instructions to poor Giles, the butler .   Having shed her mourning black , she was wearing an old-fashioned hooped gown in lilac , which made her appear slightly less intimidating than usual .
      Upon making her aware of their presence, the d owager turned around to greet the d uchess , as did the man who was now standing alongside her – James Prestonville.
      ‘ Oh, my word, ’ m uttered Milly nervously , her eyes now as wide as saucers. 
      The d uchess sank into an elegant curtsy while the d owager and the gentlemen inclined their heads in greeting.  A few pleasantries passed between the two couples before the duke and d uchess smiled gracious ly and moved away in order to circulate .  Milly emitted a loud sigh of relief. 
      At a sharp knock on the door , both girls spun around . 
      ‘ Lady Ormiston requests that you co me downstairs immediately, my lady , ’ announced a very serious Giles.  ‘ S he was quite insistent. ’
      Eleanor groaned and pulled a rueful face.  ‘ Oh well, Milly, wish me luck. ’
      ‘ You’re not needing no luck, miss, ’ grinne d Milly reassuringly.  ‘ You’re as good as any of them down there. ’
     
    Much to Eleanor’s dismay, no sooner had she set foot in the garden, than the dowager made a beeline for her. 
      ‘ Where have you been, girl? ’ she chided, cupping her goddaughter firmly by the elbow and steering h er towards the throng . ‘ How I am expected to find a man to take you when you lock yourself away upstairs is quite beyond me. ’
      ‘ Sorry , ’ mutter ed Eleanor dolefully.
      ‘ Nevertheless, you are here now and you look quite … presentable , thank the Lord. ’
    Eleanor almos t toppled over at the reluctant compliment.
    ‘ Ah, Lady Ormiston, ’ came a hig h-pitched whine from behind . 
    Lady Ormi ston rolled her eyes and came to an abrupt halt.  ‘ Cynthia Carmichael , ’ she muttered through gritted teeth , before affecting a more pleasant