Marianne and the Marquis. Anne Herries

asked him to return in the morning when I went to the door with my aunt, Mama. I knew you would wish to consider your reply. He will be here at seven of the clock tomorrow so that your letter may catch the mail coach at half-past seven.’

      ‘How thoughtful you are, dearest,’ her mother said, giving her a look of approval. ‘I hope that you did not mind giving up the visit to Bath in favour of your godmother?’

      ‘You must know that I did not,’ Marianne said. ‘It is always a pleasure to see Aunt Bertha, and I could not do otherwise when she wrote and asked for me especially. I expect she feels lonely, though I know she has a companion.’

      ‘I thought you would feel as you ought,’ her mother said with a smile. ‘We must go through your clothes, Marianne. Fortunately, you had a new evening dress last year, which you have hardly worn, but we must see if we can manage something further—I would not have you go there in rags.’

      ‘I am not yet reduced to that,’ Marianne said and laughed. ‘Indeed, several of my gowns will be perfectly suitable with a little refurbishment.’

      ‘You must have at least one new gown,’ her mother said with a fond smile. ‘I had been saving my shillings for your birthdays, but I think Marianne’s gown should come first—do you all agree?’

      ‘Yes, of course,’ Jo said. ‘Aunt Wainwright will not have me shame her so she is bound to have some dresses made for me. You don’t mind, do you, Lucy?’

      ‘Of course not,’ Lucy said, though her birthday was in a few weeks’ time. ‘Marianne must have some new clothes.’

      ‘We shall go into Huntingdon and buy them,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘There is no time to waste, Marianne. We shall take the mail coach in the morning—all of us. It will be a treat and we surely deserve it after these past few months.’

      The girls looked at each other in delight. Jo thought of the books she might subscribe from the library, Lucy thought of the adventure it would be to ride in the mail coach, and Marianne was wondering how much ribbon and trifles she could buy with five shillings, which was all the money she possessed in the world.

      

      However, Mama had been hoarding her shillings for some time and she actually had ten pounds in her purse when they descended from the coach the following day.

      There was but one shop in the small town that sold gowns already made up, and they set off immediately, because Jo wanted to help her sister choose her new clothes before visiting the library.

      In the event, Mrs Herrington had three gowns in stock that would fit Marianne: a pale blue silk with a high waist and little puff sleeves that would do for an evening party, a dark blue walking gown and a yellow afternoon dress. All three looked well on Marianne, needing only a few tucks here and there, which she could easily do herself. After some deliberation she decided that she would need the evening gown the most, but the seamstress saw their difficulty and told Mrs Horne that she could make a good price for all three.

      ‘Oh, no, Mama, that would be much too expensive. I can easily refurbish some of my others with new ribbons and some silk flowers,’ Marianne protested.

      ‘How much for the three?’ Mrs Horne asked bravely. She kept her smile in place when she was told that the evening gown was five guineas, but twelve would buy all three gowns.

      ‘Oh, dear, I am afraid that is beyond me,’ Mrs Horne said and frowned. ‘It is very reasonable, madam, but too much for me. We shall take the evening gown, but must say no to the others.’

      The seamstress looked disappointed. ‘They were made for a customer who did not pay her bills,’ the seamstress replied. ‘I am letting them go at cost to recover some of my money.’

      ‘I wish we might take all three,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘But it cannot be done. If you would be kind enough to have it delivered to the posting inn, madam. We have some more shopping to do.’ She smiled at Marianne. ‘You will need slippers, too, my love—and a bonnet if we can manage it.’

      ‘It is a beautiful dress, Mama,’ Marianne said as they left the shop afterwards. ‘But expensive.’

      ‘I should have liked to purchase all three,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘But we shall buy some material from the market and you and Jo can make at least one afternoon dress before you leave if you each do some of the sewing.’

      ‘I’ll help, too,’ Lucy said and then laughed, for she was not yet as clever a seamstress as her sisters, being inclined to fall into a dream over her work.

      ‘Yes, you can help, dearest,’ Marianne said and smiled at her. ‘Besides, I have several dresses that can be refurbished with new sashes and some fresh lace.’

      ‘I have some lace put by,’ her mama said. ‘Yes, I dare say it will be enough, Marianne—and who knows, your aunt might give you something.’

      ‘You do not mean Aunt Wainwright?’ Marianne frowned. ‘I had rather not, Mama.’

      ‘I meant my aunt Bertha,’ Mrs Horne said and smiled. ‘Now, let us see what else we can buy…’

      Two pairs of slippers and a pair of boots were bought next, but the bonnets proved too expensive. Marianne purchased some ribbons to refurbish her old ones, and a bunch of silk flowers. Both she and Jo were good at making and trimming their hats, and it was something they enjoyed doing together.

      Jo had slipped away to the library while they were purchasing some small items from Mama’s remaining shillings, and returned with an armful of books for herself and Lucy. Her young sister was delighted with the illustrated copy of fables and thanked her sister with a hug and a kiss.

      After partaking of some bread and honey and tea at the inn, they collected their parcels and climbed wearily into the coach heading home.

      ‘Well, that was a splendid day,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘I shall save my money again for some months and then we may do it again—perhaps for Lucy next time, because I am sure that Agatha will give you a generous sum to purchase your clothes, Jo. She would not allow you to appear with her in Bath looking dowdy.’

      ‘Yes, I dare say,’ Jo replied. She already had her nose in a book and was lost in a world of her own.

      Mrs Horne gave her a rueful look. Jo was the least easy to manage of her daughters and she dreaded to think what might happen if she accompanied her aunt to Bath.

      

      When they arrived back at the Vicarage, it was to discover that a letter had come from Lord Wainwright. In it, he said that he would be sending Marianne to Cornwall in one of his own carriages. She might therefore seek a refund on the public coach ticket that her godmother had purchased for her, and he had sent a small purse of gold sovereigns, which, once opened and counted, amounted to twenty pounds.

      ‘Oh, Mama,’ Marianne said in awe. ‘It is far too much. We must send it back. I could not take all that from my uncle.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ Mrs Horne said and smiled. ‘It is good of him, to be sure, and I did not expect it—but he would be offended if we returned it. You must write him a letter, my dear, and thank him for his kindness.’

      ‘I am very willing to do so,’ Marianne said, ‘if you think we may accept such generosity?’

      ‘Yes, of course. You will need some money in your purse and I was wondering whether I might sell my pearls…but now I can give them to you to wear, for you have nothing but your silver locket.’

      ‘Oh, Mama…’ Marianne glowed. ‘I shall keep them safe and give them back to you when I return. And I want you to take the ten pounds you spent for my clothes today, if you please. Ten pounds is more than enough for me.’

      ‘I shall take five, if you wish,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘Perhaps Lucy and I will have a day in Huntingdon when you two are away.’

      ‘Please take the ten pounds,’ Marianne said. ‘I felt very guilty to be spending