Oh. Oh. All was well! She was correct. She had been offered a seat. And already there was a lot to take in – the flowers, the appreciation, a cousin.
Estelle lowered herself into the chair, murmuring a thank you for the flowers and taking her chance, as she settled in, to discreetly survey her companion. Poppy Dashwood, she had just said: a Miss, to be sure, for she looked rather young to be married. Indeed, she looked young enough to still be at school; Estelle certainly hadn’t heard of a Poppy anyone on the social scene last year.
Estelle rather hoped this didn’t make her look foolish or desperate, conspiring with a young girl. Not that Miss Dashwood seemed too childish, here; she was perfectly poised, brisk and well-mannered and was saying things like you are by far the most brilliant lady. So she had impeccable taste, too!
Well, Estelle was most mollified. She even graced Miss Dashwood with another smile, this one actually sincere. (Two smiles, so soon upon meeting! Her relative better be worth the effort.) “Well, thank you,” Estelle said again, inclining her head slightly in approval. “And I am very pleased to make yours. And am delighted to be here; it is not every young lady who shows such enterprising methods to assist her family –” a rare pearl of a girl, indeed, to be so determined to take matters into her own hands; Estelle could respect that. “I daresay, I hope your – cousin, did you say? –” she added, raising her eyebrows to question the bachelor’s identity, “will appreciate quite how much effort you have gone to in his best interests.” At least it wasn’t a brother; she had heard of a Dashwood bachelor who was a halfblood, worked in experimental charms, and was rumoured to be something of a rake. If he were the prize on offer, Estelle would have whisked the flowers away and been gone from the table in a heartbeat.
Fortunately, she could only assume that Miss Poppy Dashwood, having acknowledged all her merits, knew the man who might actually be worthy of them. (She was trying her best not to seem too voraciously curious about him.)
Estelle lowered herself into the chair, murmuring a thank you for the flowers and taking her chance, as she settled in, to discreetly survey her companion. Poppy Dashwood, she had just said: a Miss, to be sure, for she looked rather young to be married. Indeed, she looked young enough to still be at school; Estelle certainly hadn’t heard of a Poppy anyone on the social scene last year.
Estelle rather hoped this didn’t make her look foolish or desperate, conspiring with a young girl. Not that Miss Dashwood seemed too childish, here; she was perfectly poised, brisk and well-mannered and was saying things like you are by far the most brilliant lady. So she had impeccable taste, too!
Well, Estelle was most mollified. She even graced Miss Dashwood with another smile, this one actually sincere. (Two smiles, so soon upon meeting! Her relative better be worth the effort.) “Well, thank you,” Estelle said again, inclining her head slightly in approval. “And I am very pleased to make yours. And am delighted to be here; it is not every young lady who shows such enterprising methods to assist her family –” a rare pearl of a girl, indeed, to be so determined to take matters into her own hands; Estelle could respect that. “I daresay, I hope your – cousin, did you say? –” she added, raising her eyebrows to question the bachelor’s identity, “will appreciate quite how much effort you have gone to in his best interests.” At least it wasn’t a brother; she had heard of a Dashwood bachelor who was a halfblood, worked in experimental charms, and was rumoured to be something of a rake. If he were the prize on offer, Estelle would have whisked the flowers away and been gone from the table in a heartbeat.
Fortunately, she could only assume that Miss Poppy Dashwood, having acknowledged all her merits, knew the man who might actually be worthy of them. (She was trying her best not to seem too voraciously curious about him.)
