Two hours later she reported to Joan that Peregrine might be known by his frill and his cuffs.
“You can’t mistake them, miss. It isn’t likely as there’ll be another gentleman there with silk on a long-cloth gaown, but if there was, you’ll be sure to know the silk. It’s a bit that was left over from linin’ your ermine coat.”
“Right,” said Joan. “Thank you. What time do we unmask?”
“Not before midnight, miss.”
“I imagine dancing will start about half-past ten.”
Mason was, as they say, very quick in the uptake.
“Mrs. Below’s maid is ordered for ten o’clock: but that means nothin’, miss. Still, you never know. If you come upstairs at ten, that’ll give me time to dress you, an’ then I can slip off to their floor an’ watch them daown. Then you’ll know where you are, miss.”
“All right, Mason. Thank you.”
So it fell out that evening that the Carey Belows descended the great staircase with Joan Purchase Atlee a dozen steps behind. . . .
They reached the painted ball-room in the same order.