The girls spent considerable time at the dress shop, though Esther occupied the greater part of it conferring with Mrs. Redmayne, while Mattie and Afton were left quite to their own devices. The pair, quickly finding they had very little to talk about, went their separate ways after a time, and each occupied herself with the private examination of the shop’s fabric, ribbons, buttons and lace.

At length some acquaintances of Miss Holland and Miss Beattie entered the shop, and Esther was delighted to introduce them to her father’s new ward, Miss Afton Green.

“My dear Afton, this is Georgiana and Alexandra Trumble of Pelton Hall. Their father, Sir George Trumble, is a Justice of the King’s Bench.”

“A great honor,” Afton said, much relieved when she did not become tongue-tied upon introduction to such fine young ladies.

The Trumble sisters at once proved to be sweet girls, if somewhat independent in their manner of thinking. Their father the judge was often away from home, and their ill mother indulged them awfully, allowing them, within reason, to do as they pleased. Though, perhaps, it ought to be said that the elder sister was very independent, while the younger was quite inclined to go along with her sister in everything she endeavored to do, much as a baby duckling follows its mother, giving very little thought to where they were headed, so long as the two remained close together.

Georgiana, the elder sister, was dark-haired and plump with a slightly receding chin, a quick-witted creature, though much given to her impulses. Alexandra, the younger, was flaxen-haired and thin, with small ears and slender fingers, and a pale, graceful neck. Both girls were dressed in coats of charcoal gray.

“How glad we are to have a new friend in town!” Miss Georgiana declared in a voice that seemed just a bit too loud for the setting. “I was just saying to Alexandra how there are not enough young people hereabouts.”

“I am very glad,” Afton answered in a nervous voice, “to be joining you.”

Perhaps it was because she was particularly sensitive after having recently lost her father, or perhaps it was because she had always been a shy sort of girl, not given to much interaction with others her own age, or perhaps it was that she was merely self-conscious, but to Afton it seemed as though all of the girls stared at her for just a second too long before Georgiana broke into a wide smile and turned aside from her. Somehow, she felt deaf to their chattering after that, wondering if she had said exactly the right thing.

Had she been stupid and said the wrong thing? Had she been too presumptuous? Did these fine ladies think her ill-mannered or ill-bred? The more she worried over these things, and the more she turned her critical thoughts inward upon herself, the smaller she felt, until Afton imagined herself completely invisible in that happy setting. An outcast, unwanted. Though, if she could only have seen inside the other girls’ minds, she would have found that the other four hardly thought of her at all, for good or ill.

If only! she thought. If only I could invent some reason to escape this awful scene!

And then, as if by divine Providence, a thought came to her.

Mr. Holland’s tobacco! He had especially requested one of the servants go to town and fetch it for him, but no servants could be spared. And indeed, hadn’t she seen the tobacconist’s shop on the way into town? She was sure she could find her way there and back again to the dress shop, thereby excusing herself from these fine ladies’ (imagined) scrutiny.

“Oh, I have longed to have a party of young people,” Georgiana was saying. “Our cousins came to visit for the holiday, and they are so handsome and amiable that I have thought of nothing else every day and night since! Just imagine, a party all our own, without chaperons, everyone wearing their fine gowns and regimentals. How gay we would all be!”

“Without chaperons?!” Mattie seemed delightedly scandalized by the suggestion. “What fun!”

“Excuse me,” Afton spoke lowly to Esther, who seemed to give her only half her attention. “Would you mind if I ran quickly to another shop? I shall rejoin you in just a few minutes.”

“Go on, dear, we shan’t leave without you,” Esther answered distractedly.

Readily accepting her pardon from a most worrisome conversation, Afton hurried from the dress shop into the snowy winter streets. Holding her bonnet close to her head, she strode forward determinedly, heart pounding awfully in her chest. She felt glad to escape the dress shop, but also anxious to be alone in this unfamiliar town. She pretended to know her destination so that no one would suspect otherwise, while inwardly she was all in a panic.

It was this way, wasn’t it? I’m sure it was this way…

After a few minutes, her search paid off, and Afton found herself inside a tobacco shop. The smell of the leaf hit her at once, and pricked her unexpectedly, so that tears sprang unbidden to her eyes.

Her own father had smoked a pipe, and had sent her often on errands to buy his tobacco. Quite suddenly, in this strange shop, wearing a strange gown and feeling not like herself at all, it seemed all Afton could do not to burst into tears.

Fortunately it was getting late in the day, so the smoke-darkened oil lamps did not reveal her discomposure readily to the nearsighted proprietor.

“Yes, young lady? What may I do for you?”

Straightening hastily, Afton replied with a question. “Do you know Mr. Ezra Holland?”

“Certainly, miss. Is there something I might supply the young master with?”

“Yes, please. Only, I don’t know what he usually takes.”

“Oh, I know Mr. Holland’s tastes well enough. I’ll fetch his usual; will take me two minutes.”

“Thank you. Ah!” A troublesome detail suddenly occurred to her. “I haven’t any money.”

“Never you mind, miss. I’ll put it on his account.”

With that, the tobacconist disappeared behind his counter and returned a short while later with a neatly wrapped parcel.

Relieved, Afton accepted it and left the shop, wiping her eyes as she stepped back out onto the icy street.

For a moment she stood there, head and heart filled with so many thoughts and feelings, that it was difficult just to command her body to walk. With a display of sentimentality she felt sure her father would have scolded her for, Afton lifted the tobacco to her nose and breathed the sharp, earthy scent.

It smelled awful, she thought with a little laugh, and she wiped another tear away. She always told her father she hated the scent of his stinking weed. Now she wondered if she’d ever be able to smell it again, without becoming emotional.

But that seemed quite enough of that. What would Esther think?—she scolded herself inwardly as she started back down the street—if she were to return in such a state? She would think her ungrateful, that’s what she would think, Afton convinced herself. She would think her consumed with melancholy, and a very dull companion indeed. And that was not the sort of impression she wished to make upon her new friend.

In the time it had taken Afton to walk to the tobacco shop and back, the sun had nearly disappeared beyond the horizon, casting the winter sky in a fabulous pink hue. Meanwhile, inside Mrs. Redmayne’s dress shop, the girls’ noisy chatter from before had turned into a conspiratorial hush. Afton approached hesitantly, wondering if she were interrupting. As she did, she heard Georgiana softly exclaim:

“We must have dear Margaret Dyer! She’s always such fun!”

“Oh, yes, dear Margaret,” Alexandra echoed her.

“You may invite Margaret, certainly,” said Esther, “but I must beg you not to bring her brothers. You know how insufferable the Dyer twins can be.”

“Indeed, they are forever following Esther about,” Mattie complained. “They never give her a moment’s peace!”

“So much attention is rather more than I can bear,” Esther said, fanning herself.

“Very well, we shall spare you the twins,” said Georgiana. “Then it is all settled?”

“Quite settled. I shall expect you this evening.”

“And you may depend on our being there. Come, Alexandra!”

Giggling, the Trumble sisters left the dress shop, followed shortly by Miss Holland’s group.

“You know I think it’s a positively splendid idea, Esther, but what shall we do for food? Mrs. Agate will not be pleased with you throwing this party on such short notice.”

“I have already thought of that, Mattie. We shall visit the baker and the confectioner for dainties. The rest, the wine, cold meat, bread and cheese, Mrs. Agate will have on hand. No, our merry little band shall not suffer from want of refreshment.”

Quite at a loss as to what sort of impromptu event the other girls had organized in her absence, Afton followed Esther and Mattie around for the next half an hour, helping them carry baskets laden with plum cake, biscuits, mince pies, oranges and comfits. By the time they arrived back at the carriage, it took the footman some time to find accommodation for all of their parcels.

“If I may,” Afton ventured when at last they were seated in the carriage and on their way back to Holland House, “it seems as though you are preparing for a party.”

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful? Une soirée magnifique! Hosted by moi, at my very own château! Father is away, and Miss Walling, my governess, is not due back for several days. Most of the servants are gone and we’ll have the house all to ourselves. We shall sing, dance, play games, and make merry until dawn, and there shall be no one to scold us! Quelle liberté!”

This grandiose declaration, which so excited the other girls, had quite the opposite effect on Afton, who had, in spite of being in possession of a rather vivid and dramatic imagination, never done anything improper or even remotely scandalous in all her fifteen years. So it was that the girl went quite white at Esther’s speech, and found herself incapable of answering. Naturally, socially intuitive Esther could hardly be insensible to her new friend’s distress, and set about at once to putting her at ease.

“It is nothing, my dear! Simply a harmless evening of merriment between good friends. And quite in your honor, I might add. Think of it as your official welcome to Holland House!”

“I am honored, but,” Afton swallowed, “I believe I understood, from something Miss Trumble mentioned earlier, that there are to be gentlemen at this party?”

“Only the Trumbles’ cousins, and I am sure they are gentlemen against whom no reasonable objection could be raised.”

“Have you ever met these gentlemen?”

“Well, no. But they can hardly behave themselves badly when they are Sir George’s own nephews. I am confident we shall find their conduct quite above reproach.”

Afton was not so confident, and her expression betrayed as much. Mattie, for her part, was growing exasperated with the other girl’s reluctance, which she felt was casting a most unnecessary gloom over the evening’s much anticipated pleasures. Esther, however, remained determined to reassure her.

“You are uncomfortable with the arrangement, I can see. But, dear Afton, you must understand such social engagements are necessary when marking one’s place in society. Far from just a simple gathering, the connections one makes at events such as these can become invaluable. Take the Trumbles, for instance. Why, their father is one of His Majesty’s judges—a Justice of the King’s Bench. It is a very considerable appointment. And the Dyers are wealthy merchants who’ve made their fortune trading silks and other fine goods from the Orient. Just think what such connections might mean for your future prospects.”

“My prospects?”

“That’s right. Such is the nature of these things,” Esther said with a little sniff. “You must learn to play the game, Afton. It is for your own good.”

Afton remained unconvinced. Yet, being herself a guest of the Hollands, she could scarcely suppose it her place to object to the arrangements of her hostess. Nor was she willing to risk displeasing Esther, whose friendship she had already begun to value, and whose good opinion she was most anxious to secure.

And after all, who was she to object? What did she know of such matters? Esther had been to London; Esther was acquainted with the ways of fashionable society. Afton, by comparison, had scarcely any knowledge of society beyond her own limited acquaintance in Littlewood. Surely, then, it was Esther whose judgment ought to be trusted. And if Esther declared that the evening would be nothing more than an innocent gathering of friends, Afton could only trust that it would be so…