The utter bliss on the dowager countess’s face was rivaled only by the utter terror on Mariana’s. Callie bit back a smile and entered the fray to rescue her sister. “Mother, Rivington only proposed this morning. Don’t you think we should allow Mariana some time to enjoy this momentous occasion?” Laughter entered her tone as she continued, offering a knowing look to her sister, “Perhaps, a day or two?”
It was as though she had not spoken. The dowager countess pressed on, her volume becoming more and more earsplitting. “And you, Callie! We shall have to think carefully about what kind of gown you shall wear!”
Oh, no. The Dowager Countess of Allendale was many things, but a reliable modiste for her elder daughter was not one of them. If Callie did not provide a distraction for her mother soon, she would be destined to attend her sister’s wedding in a feathered monstrosity complete with matching turban.
“I think we should tackle first things first, don’t you, Mother? Why not hold a small celebratory dinner party this evening?” She paused, waiting to see if her mother would take the bait.
“A wonderful idea!” Callie let her breath out slowly, pleased with her quick thinking. “We should! It will be family only, of course—because we must hold the official announcement for the betrothal ball—but I think a dinner tonight is just the thing! Oh! So much more to do! I must send invitations out and speak with Cook!” The dowager countess swiveled around and rushed to leave, propelled by her excitement. At the entrance to the room, she turned back abruptly. Unable to contain her exuberance, her face red and her breathing heavy, she exclaimed, “Oh! Mariana!” And, with that, she left.
In the silence that followed their mother’s departure, Mariana sat stunned by the scene that had just taken place. Callie couldn’t help but smile. “You didn’t think it would be easy, did you, Mari? After all, our mother has been waiting thirty-two years for a wedding, since Benedick was born. And now, thanks to you, she’s got one.”
“I don’t think I can survive this,” Mariana said, shaking her head in bemusement. “Who was that woman?”
“A mother with a wedding in her future.”
“My God,” Mariana spoke, dazed. “How long do you think she’s going to be like that?”
“I can’t be certain, but I’d guess at least the season.”
“A whole season! Is there a way out of it?”
“There is one,” Callie paused for dramatic effect, thoroughly enjoying herself.
Mariana pounced. “What is it?!”
“Do you think Rivington would consider Gretna Green?”
Mariana groaned in anguish as Callie dissolved into laughter.
This was going to be an extraordinarily entertaining season.
This was going to be the most painful season of her life.
Callie stood at the corner of the sitting room, where, after dinner and postmeal rituals of cigars for men and gossip for women, the entire family had resumed showering Mariana and her duke with well-wishes. Dozens of candles cast a lovely soft glow over the room’s inhabitants, transforming the space into an intimate scene. Ordinarily, Callie adored events that could fit into the sitting room, for they were typically cozy, happy occasions that made for warm memories.
Not so, tonight, however. Tonight, Callie was ruing the moment that afternoon when she had suggested a small, intimate dinner. Tonight, even the ancestors watching from the portraits lining the sitting-room walls seemed to be mocking her.
She swallowed a sigh and forced a smile as her aunt Beatrice approached her, beaming. Callie knew exactly what was coming…knew, too, that it was unavoidable.
“Isn’t it wonderful? Such a happy couple! Such a fine match.”
“Indeed it is, Aunt,” Callie intoned, turning her head to gaze upon the happy couple in question. She had discovered over the course of the interminable evening that looking at an elated Mariana and Rivington made stomaching this particular conversation slightly easier. Very slightly easier. “It is a treat to see Mariana so very happy.”
Her elderly aunt rested a wrinkled hand on Callie’s arm. Here it comes, Callie thought to herself, gritting her teeth. “I’m sure your mother is happy finally to have a wedding to plan!” the old woman cackled with amusement as she spoke. “After all, between you and Benedick, there was little guarantee that she’d ever see the day!”
Callie forced a laugh that came out a little too loud as she cast a desperate eye around the room in search of someone, anyone, to save her from a seemingly endless string of rude and impertinent family members. In the three hours since the guests had arrived for dinner, Callie had had some variation of this conversation with twelve different people. Dinner had been particularly difficult, considering she’d been sandwiched between Rivington’s opinionated grandmother and a particularly callous cousin, both of whom seemed to believe that Callie’s unmarried state was well within the bounds of proper conversation. She was beginning to believe that there was not a single person in either the Rivington or Allendale families with even a modicum of tact. Did they really believe that she would take no offense to being consistently reminded that she was a dusty old spinster set firmly upon the shelf? It was really too much.