charity luncheon

Dorothea was attending this luncheon with one of the Valenduris ladies who had been whisked away on some very important upper-class business which probably involved sherry and talking about the "real" stars of the coming out ball. This left the governess to browse the donated wares herself. She had not wanted to come empty-handed, perish the thought. So along with an offer of assistance to make sure the dresses fit the girls as beautifully as their wealthier peers, Thea had donated a pretty pink dress. She had rescued it from a long-forgotten chest and used her not inconsiderate skill with a needle and thread to make it good enough that she would willingly wear it to a ball herself if only it were her colour.

There was a variety here and she overheard a little gossip about this and that family who were as tight as various rude metaphors. She could make that judgement herself, for instance, a single set of gloves from a family that owned half of Gloucestershire, that wouldn't do at all. But Dorothea was too polite to say that sort of thing to just anybody.

She walked a little further to admire an absolutely stunning green number which looked like it might be her perfect fit. "My word that is beautiful, so, when does the bidding begin again?" she joked to whoever was standing nearby.