The Sins of Lady Dacey by Marion Chesney Read Free Book Online Page A

carriages, and even a wagon went through Piccadilly at the hand-gallop.
    There were few sedan chairs left plying their trade, but such as there were were still borne by aggressive Irish chairmen, running along the pavements shouting, “Make way!” and sending passersby diving for cover.
    The shops were bewildering, piled high with every luxury from every part of the world. Pamela and Honoria studied the aristocratic ladies who swept into the most expensive shops, noticing their dress and manner and wondering if they could ever pass muster in such grand company.
    By the time they returned to Hanover Square, both were tired and hungry. Dinner, they learned, was at the new fashionable hour of seven. Lucille, the French lady's maid, helped them both change for the evening. Honoria envied Pamela's fashionable hairstyle and more modish appearance. She herself felt sadly provincial.
    Dinner was a silent affair. Lady Dacey appeared preoccupied, although she threw several calculating looks in Honoria's direction from time to time. The journey to the musicale was only a few streets away, but Honoria was to learn that a lady never arrived on foot, no matter how short the distance. The idea of a musicale was comforting. She would not be expected to socialize much, surely, and would be allowed to sit quietly and listen to the music.
    Lady Dacey was wearing a more modest gown, although the neckline was so low it showed the top half of her nipples. On entering the Henrys’ house, Honoria was pleased to note that their hostess was a respectable matron, grandly but modestly gowned. She and Pamela were introduced by Lady Dacey to Mr. and Mrs. Henry. Mr. Henry, a florid man, pinched Honoria's cheek, and Mrs. Henry gave her a long, slow, assessing stare. Honoria was to become used to those stares. She could not help wondering why her outrageous aunt appeared to have social entrée to the best houses, but was to learn later that society never shut its doors on a rich countess. Someone of lesser rank would have been immediately ostracized. Having introduced them, Lady Dacey obviously considered her duties at an end. She flirted outrageously with the men and ignored the women.
    They took their seats for the performance, a piano recital. The pianist, a young and romantic-looking man, raised his fingers over the keys. There was an expectant hush. He hit the first notes. Immediately the sounds of the pianoforte were lost in a great babble of gossip as each turned to his or her neighbor and began to talk. Honoria was intrigued and amused. As the music rose to a crescendo, so did the voices. At last, the musician hit the last note and immediately everyone fell silent for a few moments before applauding loudly.
    “Poor man,” said Pamela. “What is the point of getting him to play if no one listens?”
    “Disgraceful,” said Honoria, quite outraged. The guests were filing through to the supper room, chattering like so many starlings on a Whitehall roof. “We must go and thank him.”
    Pamela looked uneasy. “I do not know if it is quite the thing.”
    “It is the right thing to do,” said Honoria firmly.
    She approached the musician, who was putting away his music. Pamela followed.
    Honoria held out her hand and smiled. “I wish I could have heard what you played, sir,” she said. “Nonetheless, I thank you for your efforts to entertain us.”
    He gave her a limp handshake. He looked very tired. “In truth, ma'am,” he said, “I do not know why I bother to make any effort to entertain the company.”
    “We will listen,” said Honoria, “if you would like to play us something.”
    He smiled suddenly and sat down and began to play a short piece by Mozart.
    He had no sooner finished than Lady Dacey was upon them. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Honoria?” she demanded. “Leave this bandsman and join the company.”
    “He is a musician, Aunt.”
    “Don't call me that! Goodness, you will have people saying you are a