It turned out to be a little less work than Pam expected to send out the invitations; given Michael’s penchant for calling sudden parties she had stockpiled a large number of invitations, some of which she had even strategically chosen to engrave in advance with the names and addresses of those whom Colonel Scott most frequently invited. For those, she had only to add the details of this particular event, which she did not by engraving but by calligraphy. She relished the feeling of power, of creativity, in the brushstrokes, dipping and re-dipping the pen and watching the words grow under her hands. Lord Oscar of Martinsdale, The Honourable Mr. James Halpert, Kevin Lord Malone. It was soothing. And for the rest, her regular engraver was more than happy to fill a rush order, and to accept the Colonel’s note as a promise of future repayment—which she would ensure that he got, even if she had to dun the Colonel herself. The letters were ready by the middle of the day, and she set about to finish the remainder of the tasks that had suddenly fallen upon her in preparation for the next evening.
It occurred to her briefly to call on Roy for assistance, but the idea died as soon as it arose to the background of her mind. It was not worth the effort it would take to drag him out of whatever amusement had taken his fancy, and lord help her if he had actually been engaged in some productive vein! You’d have imagined that her merely interrupting him was the cause of all the strife in the world, and the sole reason he hadn’t made a mint in the ten years they’d been engaged. So no matter the degree of effort Colonel Scott’s whims might require of her, she would not ask Roy.
However, she was still in need of assistance; not merely for fetching and carrying, but more generally in that it was deemed unacceptable for a lady of her not yet sufficiently advanced years to wander the streets alone in search of the various supplies she stood in need of, much less to barter openly with tradesmen. She needed a chaperone or a male escort—and the male escort had best be of high reputation, of advanced years, or her employer if she did not wish for scandal. Not instinctively knowing anyone besides Roy (whose reputation she considered undeniable0 who would both fit these descriptions and be willing to assist her, she decided female companionship was the best—and indeed the only—option available to her.
It was thoughts like these that brought her to the doorstep of Miss Angela Martin, her next-door neighbour. Miss Martin was a prim and prissy miss, fond of finding fault in everything Pam did, from the frequency of her intended’s visitations to the colour of her dress, but she was also a sharp and insightful woman with a strong head for numbers and a complete unwillingness to be hornswoggled by anyone, which made her an invaluable companion when she chose to be of use on trips like these. Pam was more than willing to swallow the occasional unflattering or downright insulting remark thrown her own way for such forceful assistance when dealing with an uppity carter or intransigent shopkeeper. She knocked on Angela’s door, caught the cat that inevitably tried to make a break for it when the door opened even the smallest crack, and, with an unintentionally sly mix of cajolery, outright flattery, and straightforward desperation succeeded in engaging that lady’s services for the day. “After all,” hummed Miss Martin as they stepped out together “it isn’t as if I don’t have my own errands to run, and if you’re to hire a coach it will certainly make them much easier for me.”
Pam was well aware that these errands mostly involved the acquisition of cat food, cat toys, and small wooden or porcelain figures of cats, and so foretold correctly that they would not put her much out of her own way, as these were often found in the same shops and thus necessitated few additional stops that deviated from her own plan for the afternoon and evening. Having Miss Martin along for her own shopping did result in the alteration of some of her initial plans—Angela would not allow her to buy green bunting for the Colonel’s staircases, declaring it a “whorish colour” and refusing to sit by a roll of it in the carriage—but they got along tolerably enough, and the older woman’s nose for a bargain came in handy in acquiring the seating cards, as she pungently observed to the printer that he could hardly find a use for the quarter sheet of stock that would be left after the smaller order Pam had initially requested, and successfully negotiated a major discount on filling the entire sheet.
It being a bright summer day, the city remained light well into the evening, a fortunate occurrence for the two ladies as Miss Martin’s first supplier of cat food announced to her dismay that the cart from his supplier had overturned on its way in from the country and he was unable to supply her needs. Her second supplier was on the other side of town, and they were fortunate to make it there before he closed up shop, but it left them sadly behindhand with the clock. But Pam found herself forgiving this for reasons she refused to examine too closely, as a handsome phaeton pulled up alongside them by Hyde Park and she found herself addressed by a certain floppy-haired young man she remembered quite well from the night before.
