The carriage arrived back at Holland House and the footmen carried the dainties inside. Afton, for her part, was most relieved to have an errand that took her away from the kitchens at the exact moment when Esther’s grand ambitions for an impromptu party collided with the formidable, overworked Mrs. Agate. As it was, she could still hear their shouting match halfway down the upstairs hall.

Clutching the tobacco pouch to her middle, she hesitated in front of Mr. Holland’s door for some moments. Several times she considered leaving it as she had the breakfast, but ultimately she decided she ought to at least attempt to summon the young master. Though her timidity worked its utmost to prevent her, in the end she gathered the courage to knock softly.

“Come in.” A strained-sounding voice summoned her.

She found the young master before the fireplace, leaning back in an ornate chair with his hand over his eyes, his left leg stretched out on an ottoman. He seemed pale to her, and his chalky face was beaded in sweat.

Moving his fingers slightly, he made brief eye contact with her before covering his face once more.

“You again.”

“I’m—” she hesitated, “sorry to disturb you.”

“Never mind. Make up the fire.”

Wordlessly, Afton held out the tobacco pouch to him. After a moment, he moved his hand again to glare at her.

“What is it?”

“Your tobacco, sir. I got it in town. The gentleman said he would charge it to your account.”

Ezra stared in disbelief for a moment. Then he smirked.

“Seems you’re not entirely useless, after all. Green, was it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Make up the fire.”

Afton turned at once to complete the young master’s request, realizing that he was equating her with the servants with this treatment, but she did not mind. She’d rather he saw her as a useful person, and not as a nuisance as he’d so obviously viewed her last night.

While she kindled the fire, behind her Ezra packed and lit his pipe with shaking hands. The first few puffs of smoke steadied him somewhat, and permeated the room with a rich, sweet scent.

Good man, the tobacconist, he thought with relief. He’d supplied the proper leaf, and even extended him credit. He would be sure to pay him a little something extra next time he was in town.

“I wonder, sir,” the girl interrupted his thoughts in her small, timid voice. “Did you know…that your sister intends to throw a party this evening? She’s invited several guests, including…some young gentlemen…”

Ezra smirked. Of course Esther would throw a party the minute Father left the house.

“Esther’s affairs are no concern of mine.”

“But sir, I wonder at the impropriety,” Afton protested.

Ezra snorted. This girl’s sense of modesty and Christian decency was so strangely foreign to him that he could do nothing else. The type of women he was wont to entertain, when he was feeling more like himself, certainly never held any such reservations. Indeed, they were only too happy to get alone with him, and offer any service he could desire, in exchange for a present or two. But something told him Green here would not be so easily bought. Not that he had any interest in the plain, timid little girl. To him, she was all but invisible.

“Esther will do what Esther wants. She is mistress of Holland House.”

“But sir, you are older. Surely you are master, while your father is away!”

Her words pricked him, and at the same moment a painful spasm started in his hip, sending a cramp through his leg all the way down to his toes. He bit down on the end of his pipe and turned his head away, so the girl wouldn’t see his pain.

“I am nothing. Leave me.”

Afton did as she was bidden, leaving Mr. Holland alone with his pipe and a crackling fire. She wondered if she had been too bold, challenging him as she had. She’d had little choice. He had been her last hope of putting a stop to Esther’s party; without Mr. Holland on her side, there was nothing to do but endure the coming storm.

And storm, she feared it would be.

“There you are, dear Afton!”

She looked up to see the other girls hurrying towards her, all eagerness and smiles.

“The arrangements are made, Mrs. Agate is preparing the food, Kit is polishing the silver, and the remaining servants are putting the drawing room to rights. Now there is nothing to do until our guests arrive but attend to our toilettes!” Esther declared.

“But shall we be able to manage it without Kit?” Mattie wondered.

“Of course, Mattie dear. We shall have each other! Come, both of you. You must help me select my gown for the evening!”

In spite of all her misgivings about the events that were to unfold later that evening, Afton found herself cheered by the company of Esther and Mattie as the girls readied themselves for the party. In keeping with the great generosity Esther had already shown, she invited both girls to choose another gown for the event, but while Mattie was more than happy to avail herself of Esther’s wardrobe, Afton staunchly refused to accept.

“You have already done far too much for me!” she insisted.

“Are you too proud to accept my generosity?”

“Not too proud! Not at all, sweet Esther. Only, as unaccustomed to it as I am, I fear any more generosity would surely spoil me.”

Esther clicked her tongue with disapproval at the thought of not having a second friend to dress up, but she accepted Afton’s protests as coming from a girl of very poor station who could not possibly appreciate the bounty she was being offered.

In the end, the only other gift Afton would accept from her was a hairpin of white silk violets, which she allowed Esther to arrange in her hair. The girls agreed the effect was very pretty, and thus the attention was shifted from the reluctant Afton to the all-too-eager Mattie and Esther.

For herself, Mattie selected a charming gown of powder-blue muslin. The high-waisted bodice was gathered becomingly beneath the bust, while a modest, square-cut neckline and short, puffed sleeves lent the dress an air of youthful sweetness. The sleeves were edged with dainty ruffles, and the flowing skirts fell in graceful folds to her slippers. A narrow rose colored sash encircled her waist, completing an ensemble both elegant and delightfully feminine.

The fabric of Esther’s gown in particular was exceedingly fine, an airy cream color with tiny embroidered blossoms scattered across the surface, each wrought in shades of muted gold, warm ocher, and palest amber, arranged in irregular sprigs, as though some obliging breeze had strewn a handful of tiny flowers across the muslin. An ivory silk ribbon below her bust edged in fine gold embroidery gathered the fabric into soft, becoming folds. From the high waist the skirt fell almost uninterrupted to the floor, its slender, flowing lines lending Esther’s statuesque figure an appearance of effortless grace.

“You are beautiful,” Afton breathed as she put the finishing touches on Esther’s hair, crowning her with a golden diadem ornamented with clusters of seed pearls.

“As are you, my dear,” Esther said, turning to pinch Afton’s pale cheeks and lips in the hopes of bringing some color to them. Afton giggled, guessing her purpose, and Esther did too, her emerald eyes twinkling fondly. Meanwhile Mattie came to stand before the mirror, arranging a bejeweled hair comb she’d borrowed from Esther just above her ear so that it caught the light and shone to its greatest advantage.

“How pretty we all look,” Mattie declared, and Esther pulled Afton over so that all three girls’ reflections shone in the mirror. “We are like flowers in a garden, each her own gay color.”

“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date,” quoted Afton, shivering a little. The other girls paid her no mind. 

“What a shame we could not have our portrait painted, so we could remember this moment always,” Esther sighed.

“Oh, Lord, this spot…” Mattie said, leaning into the mirror to fuss over a blemish on her cheek Afton felt quite sure she had imagined into existence.

While the girls put the finishing touches on their appearances, Esther’s maidservant, poor Kit, was left to run from one end of the house to the other, preparing for the party. There were fires to be tended, lamps to be lit, chairs to be arranged, and a fresh supply of coal to be brought up from below. Twice she was obliged to climb the stairs in search of clean linen, and once to bring fresh candles to the kitchen. And of course, in the butler’s absence, it fell to her to open the door and greet the guests.

Georgiana Trumble did not hesitate, but walked directly into the house, chattering excitedly. Her sister followed, while the gentlemen, dressed in neatly pressed scarlet regimentals, demurred politely to the overworked maidservant.

“How good it is to be back at Holland House! Such a grand building! I’ve always been particularly envious of the carpets here. I have often said to Mama that we ought to have ours at Pelton Hall done in precisely the same fashion. Come along, Alexandra, do. You mustn’t dawdle.”

Meanwhile, Kit rushed ahead to guide the ladies to the drawing room, where their hostess was waiting.

“Oh, dear Georgiana, I’m so glad you’ve come!” cried Esther upon seeing her friend again.

“Indeed, and how delightfully our little scheme is succeeding. What a merry party we shall all be when Margaret arrives.”

“You shan’t have to wait long,” Alexandra observed. “I hear the doorbell now.”

“Oh, splendid! But first, I don’t think you are acquainted, Miss Holland, with our cousins who are visiting from York. You must allow me to introduce Mr. Peter Bard and Mr. John Gibbs.”

“That’s Ensign Peter Bard,” corrected a charming man good-naturedly. The shorter of the two, Mr. Bard was a fair young gentleman of nineteen. His countenance was all eagerness; eagerness to impress and please, as well as an eagerness to be appreciated and admired, for he was newly commissioned as an officer in His Majesty’s service, an accomplishment of which he was quite proud.

“You must forgive my cousin,” said Mr. Gibbs. He was a bit older, tall, with dark hair and the swarthy, healthy complexion of one who spends a good deal of time out of doors. He seemed to Afton more reserved than his companion, but no less willing to appear amiable and engaging. “This fellow has only lately received his commission and cannot bear to let the world forget it,” Mr. Gibbs said with a teasing smile.

The young people shared a laugh. Then Miss Trumble got straight to work introducing the other ladies. Afton was pleasantly surprised to find her name had been properly recalled by the fine young lady, and found herself introduced to the gentlemen as Miss Green, receiving what she perceived to be polite attentions from each of them.

Perhaps, she thought, this evening will not be so disastrous after all. Perhaps we might really enjoy ourselves as grown-up young people, and each of us behave in a civilized manner, even in the absence of a chaperone.

“Where is she?!”

“Where is my goddess?!”

Just then, a great commotion was heard behind them—the sound of a scuffle, perhaps, or was it just the clatter of two young bulls rampaging down the hall?

“Oh, no!” Esther’s eyes were wide with shock and disapproval. “The twins! I told you not to invite the Dyer twins!”

“I didn’t!” Georgiana protested. “They must have got wind of the invitation to Margaret and saw fit to invite themselves!”

“Oh, Lord.”

Before another word could be uttered, the drawing-room door was thrown back on its hinges, and two identical young men were seen attempting to fit themselves through it at the same time.

“I got here first!”

“Because you pulled my ear! Stand back, you ruddy cheat!”

“Not for the world! I must see my goddess!”

“Miss Holland!” the first appealed to her, reaching out a desperate hand. “Say you will love me, or I shall die!”

“Not him! Say you love me!”

A female voice came suddenly from behind them.

“It is me she loves, you cheeky devils, and you jolly well know it!”

All at once, this unsightly pair was cowed by a thump on each head, delivered simultaneously by a slender young woman with a charming Titus haircut.

Then, without ceremony, she yanked them back by their collars, so they fell backwards into the hall with a cry.

“Hmph!” she sniffed, and strode deliberately into the room on light, graceful footsteps. “Esther, darling!” she cried, opening her arms wide.

“Dear Margaret!” Esther hurried to embrace her. “How glad I am you have come! But did you have to bring—” She stopped herself and glanced at the doorway, where the twins entered, humbled now, in single file.

“Oh, I’m afraid there was no denying them. Once they caught wind of Miss Trumble’s purpose, they ceased to be human and became unstoppable forces of nature, determined they would not rest until they reached your side.”

“No, indeed, fair lady!” declared the first Dyer twin, bowing deeply before Esther and taking her hand for a kiss.

“If Margaret had left without us,” declared the second twin, bowing and taking her other hand, “we should have run all the way on foot!”

“Well, it was very presumptuous of you both. I have half a mind to turn you away.”

“Do not turn us away, fair lady!”

“If you tell me to go, I shall kill myself this very night, I swear to you I shall!”

“And I! I shall take Father’s pistol and—”

Just as he was about to pantomime holding a gun to his head, Georgiana burst through.

“That’s quite enough of that, you young rogues! If you’re going to stay at our party, you’re going to have to behave yourselves.”

“Oh, we shall!”

“We shall be the very picture of gentility, shan’t we, brother?”

“Yes, indeed! Meek as little lambs. Only do not turn us away, we beg you! Darling, perfect Esther! Your beauty rivals the sunrise!”

“It rivals the first bud of spring!”

“It rivals all the jewels in Christendom!”

“Enough!” again declared their elder sister, striking them both on the head once more, and both boys straightened, rubbing their curls sheepishly, cheeks bright and eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well,” said Esther, “I suppose it would not do to turn you away now you are here.”

“Indeed,” said Alexandra. “We shall be a more jolly party with more people, shan’t we, Georgiana?” She looked to her sister for approval.

“Yes, indeed. I only hope they shall not trespass too terribly on Miss Holland’s good graces.”

Afton hoped so, too. But given all she had already witnessed, she doubted it. She doubted it very much…