There was a lot of giggling in the schoolroom at Barden House as Sophy watched her younger sisters on their knees beside a large trunk. It had been placed squarely in the centre of a threadbare rug, Papa not deeming it necessary to expend money on something seen only by his children and their governess. Lucy dragged a once fashionable but now sadly outmoded shawl about her shoulders.
"Look at me," she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and parading up and down the room. "Am I not smart?" Miss Bembridge clicked her tongue and suggested that if Lucy could not conduct herself with decorum she might like to write one hundred times in her neatest hand I must behave with modesty on every occasion.
Sophy, nearing her come out, had some sympathy with her sibling. She had herself pulled out a gown of green taffeta with the most voluminous skirts and looked wide-eyed at her mentor.
"Did Mama really wear such things, Bemby? What a figure she must have looked," she said, quite embarrassed for her parent.
"You might be forgiven for thinking so, my dear, but I can assure you that when your mother was a girl such things were all the rage. Now let us consider the task in hand." But before they could do so, Mrs Templeton entered the room and stopped short at the sight of her eldest daughter, who was still clutching the garment to her breast. She gasped and a faraway look came into her eyes.
"I was wearing that gown the first time I met your father." Sophy did not know where to look, so disturbed was she by Mama's reaction.
Even the younger ones thought it too serious for laughter. Fortunately Mrs Templeton reverted once more into the efficient and practical person they knew her to be. She clapped her hands together and, business-like, turned her attention to the trunk.
"We must see what can be salvaged and what cast aside."
"You are not suggesting I wear any of your gowns, Mama!" Sophy exclaimed.
Mama laughed.
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