have experience with insurrections—Father feels he should host a ball to welcome the officers. It will be two weeks from yesterday. That’s not much warning, but it’s not meant to be a grand affair, merely an impromptu entertainment.”
“Will I be invited?” Flora asked, wringing her hands anxiously.
“Of course, you goose. You’re the governor’s granddaughter. And with all those officers about, I’m certain you’ll have to attend, as well, Verity. Magisters seldom enter the military, so I’m afraid few of the officers will be appropriate for you, Flora. They do make good dancing partners, though. But, Verity, you might find a husband. No one ranking below major, of course. You’ll want some polish and seasoning.”
“I’m not in the market for a husband,” I said.
“Why ever not?” She turned to Flora with a conspiratorial wink. “Do you suppose she already has a suitor?”
“She does seem to go out quite often,” Flora said slyly. “Olive said she met a boy in the park once.”
“Oh, really? Verity, do tell.”
I would have preferred not to answer, but this seemed my best opportunity to recover from my earlier faux pas about Henry. “I do have a friend I see from time to time. He’s a student at the university, and he’s quite brilliant.”
“Even if you do have a suitor, it will be good if he finds himself in competition with a dashing young officer. He’ll have to work harder to win you.” Elinor leaned back against her pillows and picked up a lace fan. “I don’t know what having all those soldiers in the city will do to the civic order. Most of them are merely well-disciplined and well-dressed ruffians, if you ask me. There are far too many soldiers to fit in the barracks, even on Governor’s Island. I hear they’re commandeering the student housing around the university. That area seems to be where the troublemakers are, so I suppose that’s a good enough plan. Though your friend might be inconvenienced, Verity.”
Flora didn’t give her a chance to say anything more about the military plans. She directed the conversation back to the ball itself. “It won’t be a costume ball, will it? Those are so tiresome.”
“Why would we have a costume ball when all the men will be wearing uniforms? Any man can be handsome in a uniform.” Elinor smiled at me. “And now Verity is wondering how I know so much when I never leave my bed. I maintain a circle of friends. It’s amazing how readily people share things with someone they don’t think is in communication with anyone else in society.”
“Their coats are red, so I should make sure my gown doesn’t clash with red,” Flora mused, off in her own world of modistes and fashion plates. “I would hate to form an unattractive picture while I’m dancing.” Then she gasped. “Henry will allow me to go, won’t he?”
“He’ll have to come himself. This is one occasion when I doubt Father will allow him to plead illness—or any other excuse. You are, however, on your own when it comes to persuading him that you need a new ballgown. He’ll insist that since the ball is to welcome newcomers, none of them will have seen any of your old gowns, and I’m afraid I can’t disagree. Don’t you have a lovely white gown? That would show well against the red uniforms. Since there’s hardly any time, you certainly wouldn’t be the only one without a new gown.”
I didn’t have any ballgowns at all. I wondered if I was expected as a chaperone to dress for the ball. I doubted I could count on Lord Henry’s knowledge of society’s rules for that. I thought I might be able to consult Lady Elinor on the subject, but I didn’t want to sound like I was angling to get a new gown. I was sure Flora would interpret it that way, no matter what I said.
I could hardly believe it when Lady Elinor then said, “As it is, I hope there will be enough time for Verity to get a gown made. The invitations haven’t gone out yet, so you’ll have a head start with the modiste. I’ll make an appointment for you with one I know. You may have to go to her studio as all these travel restrictions will make life difficult for her. She’ll know what’s appropriate for a chaperone these days. In my time, they were all bitter old hags, not lovely young ladies like you.”