by Archer, Kate
Henry nodded, though he had no intention of escorting Miss Dell into supper. Still, he was rather cheered by the reminder that they would attend Lord Beckman that evening. Beckman held the party every year at Newmarket. It would be a decidedly small affair, only including those Beckman termed the ‘horse set.’ Beckman had firm ideas of what constituted his horse set. He held no respect for those who only took a keen interest in horseflesh when there was a race on. He derisively called those particular unfortunates the ‘horse tourists.’
Certainly, at Beckman’s, Miss Darlington could not refuse a dance. There would not be enough gentlemen there for her to do it.
They had danced so often these past two seasons, perhaps a reminder of those happy days would steer her in a more forgiving direction?
He might even take her into supper, just like old times.
*
After leaving the breakfast room, Penny had gone up to Kitty’s door and knocked softly.
Though Penny herself had been up for some hours, Kitty was still abed though awake. She was propped up with pillows and had an array of books laid on the blanket and one open in her hand.
Penny smiled and said, “As I always expect to find you, near buried in books. It is becoming a veritable library in here.”
Kitty laughed and laid down the book in her hand. “There are far too many temptations in this library, I’m afraid. I can hardly settle on one subject. Have I stayed abed shockingly late?”
“No, you have not,” Penny said. “I have asked Peg to bring up a tea tray so you may not hurry yourself.”
“She will have been shocked by the notion, I’m sure,” Kitty said. “Here I am, not even out and yet lying around like a married lady.”
“If the truth be told, I think little shocks Peg,” Penny said. She picked up a book and examined it. Then laid it down and picked up another.
Peg knocked and came in with the tray. Just as Penny had predicted, the woman did not seem particularly shocked. After she’d laid the tea things and left, Kitty said, “Now Penny, you have examined five of the books I have strewn on the bed though I know you do not have the least interest in any of them. What weighs on your mind?”
Penny had been determined to apprise Kitty of Lord Cabot’s interest, and to warn her of his intent to flout his knowledge. Now that it had come to it, though, she did not know how to start.
“I’ll venture it has to do with Lord Cabot,” Kitty said.
Penny looked up. “How did you know?”
“I did not,” Kitty said, “but he is the person who has caused you trouble these past days so it was a reasonable guess.”
“Well, you are right, though not for the reasons you might think. I wished to warn you of him. It has been told to me that he has expressed an interest in you.”
Kitty sputtered and wiped the resulting spray of tea from her nightdress with a napkin. “You jest, surely,” she said.
“I do not,” Penny said. “And here is something even more shocking. It turns out that Lord Cabot is secretly a scholar and means to reveal his tendencies to you in order to impress. I merely warn you so you might be on your guard.”
Kitty heaved with laughter and set her cup down so she might not stain her nightdress any more than she had already.
“Lord Cabot? A scholar?” Kitty said. “It cannot be so.”
“As I would have thought too,” Penny conceded.
“Do you know,” Kitty said, “that the horse he’s entered in the races is named Bucephalus?”
“Yes, of course,” Penny said, unsure of what that had to do with anything.
“And do you know what it means?” Kitty asked.
Penny frowned. “I believe it was the name of Alexander the Great’s war horse. Or so I was told by Lord Burke. A stupid name for a filly, though Burke says the horse was named when Lord Cabot bought her.”
“Yes,” Kitty said, “Alexander’s war horse. But the meaning of it is ox head. Is that not amusing? It is precisely what I think of Lord Cabot, he is a bit of an ox head.”
Penny had not known the meaning of the name, though she found she was in agreement with Kitty. He was an ox head. She also found herself well-pleased that Kitty so clearly meant to give Lord Cabot very short shrift. It was not for her own account that she was gratified, it was just…it would suit, that was all.
“Well,” Kitty said, “the ox head may attempt to flout whatever few facts he’s managed to store in his mind. It will only be an amusement to me. Between him and Lord Grayson I shall be mightily entertained. I intend to examine Lord Grayson mercilessly on his understanding of the life and history of Cardinal Wolsey and I predict that understanding will be decidedly dim.”
Penny was cheered by Kitty’s speech. In truth, she was cheered by Kitty in general. Never was there a girl with more sense or a sunnier disposition. She must emulate Kitty in that regard.
“I do hope you can enjoy yourself this evening as well,” Kitty said. “I would never be allowed to attend such an affair had it not been hosted by Lord Beckman. When Lady Beckman was apprised that I would be in town, she wrote my mother that I ought to come and that she could keep a sharp eye on me. It really is my first venture out in regular society outside of my own neighborhood, even if it is to be a small affair and I am not officially out.”
“It is a debut of sorts,” Penny said, having not considered the matter in that light.
“Just so,” Kitty said. “I hope we are both very jolly this evening.”
Penny nodded. Kitty was right, as she always was. After all, what had she to be unhappy about? She was at Newmarket with her loving family and her dearest friend in the world. They were to go to Lord Beckman’s party this evening which was always a diversion. She would wear her amber silk, a favorite, and she would be jolly despite the ox head in their midst. She might find herself even more jolly over Lord Grayson’s plight. She would stifle her laughter over the poor lord struggling to keep his head above water while he drowned in Cardinal Wolsey’s history.
“You are always right, Kitty,” Penny said. “I have been too gloomy of late but I am determined to throw it off. We are young and will be merry, as we are meant to be.”
“Quite right, Pen-pen,” Kitty said. “Now, you better help me clear off these books. If I am not dressed and downstairs in the next hour, your aunt shall think me a frightful layabout.”
*
Penny had spent the rest of the day weaving between Kitty and the stables. It reminded her very much that she lived two lives—one in a drawing room receiving callers and pretending at sewing, and another in the environs of the stables with her beloved horses. She was forever shaking her skirts of hay and dust in one direction and crumbs and threads in the other.
Kitty had insisted that she cease her wanderings and go above stairs at a reasonable time to rest and ready themselves for the ball. Penny had given herself over to it. They had spent a merry early evening over tea and biscuits, running between each other’s rooms to consult on this silk or that comb or that pair of gloves.
She had almost been able to cease thinking of Lord Cabot in those pleasant hours. Had he not been an inmate of the house, she might have been able to forget him altogether.
As it was, when Mrs. Wellburton had collected her and Kitty and led them down the stairs, Lord Cabot and her father had awaited them at the bottom.
He was so handsome in his close-cut dark blue coat. His tanned face and brown eyes showed nicely against his white neckcloth. As well, she could not help but notice his powerful legs encased in tight trousers. She very well knew she was not meant to observe such a thing. Her aunt would wave a fan over the idea. And yet, she had often noticed the varying differences in men’s legs. Particularly, she had noticed that those men who rode often tended to have more muscular legs than those who preferred transport by carriage.
Though Penny had firmly decided that she must make a match with some pleasant fellow who might not have the same interest in horseflesh that she did, she
would never marry a man with toothpick legs. When one of those toothpick-legged individuals eventually did don some riding clothes, their stockings sagged in a hopeless effort to find something to hold on to. It was a shocking thought to have, she knew, but there it was.
Mrs. Wellburton had been determined that there be no awkward standing about in the hall. Once the usual pleasantries about how well everybody looked were got through, she hustled her charges into a waiting carriage while the gentlemen followed on horseback.
Lord Beckman’s estate was not a mile further from town than Mendbridge Cottage itself and they arrived there in good time. Kitty had delighted in the long cobblestoned drive, lit by torches and winding gently through old oaks that draped their leaves overhead. Her friend had marveled at the house, it only having been built a few years before and sporting an elegant Palladian style. It was a great white box of a house, its only adornment the carved columns that lined its front.
Penny knew her father considered the design a commonsense answer to the Gothic revival that was currently in vogue. She suppressed her laughter as she peeked out the window. As she had expected, Lord Mendbridge pointed at the house and said loudly, “See there, Cabot, that is what I call a proper house. Not like some other buildings being put up just now that look more suited to ghosts and goblins than people.”
As it was to be a small affair, there was no usual crush of carriages lined on the drive and they were speedily disembarked and led inside.
They had been greeted kindly by Lady Beckman. Their hostess took a particular interest in Kitty, having already promised her mother that she would keep a sharp eye on her. After it was satisfactorily settled that Kitty was never to be out of her view, they proceeded on to hand off their coats and receive their cards.
Penny had paused to wait for her father before entering the ballroom. This was a courtesy he would expect, though in this instance it meant waiting for Lord Cabot too. She was certain her father would do as he did at every ball. He would survey “the field” as he called it, pronounce it satisfactory, kiss Penny on the cheek, and make his way to the card room. While he did not look to play whist or piquet at home very often, he always said it looked far more attractive when the choices were to either spend the hours dealing a pack of cards or watching young people hop around a ballroom floor.
Lord Mendbridge had finally ceased his joking with Lord Beckman and led them into the ballroom. Lord Cabot was hot on his heels, though Penny wished he would take himself off elsewhere.
“Well, Cabot,” Lord Mendbridge said in his booming voice, “I do not suppose there will be any two prettier ladies here tonight.”
“Certainly not,” Lord Cabot said gallantly.
“Well? Jump to it, man,” Lord Mendbridge said. “I suppose you’ll want the first and supper. Now, my advice, actually my request, is that you take Miss Dell into supper. She is not technically out, you see, and I’d have her with somebody I can trust. If you get my meaning.”
Penny was not a stranger to her father saying something that made her face flame. The dear man could be quite oblivious to what might embarrass a lady. But this was rather more than anything she’d experienced in the past.
To force Lord Cabot to put himself down on their cards! And then, her poor father was so naïve. He would put Kitty into the hands of the very man who wished to flirt with her the most. Well, with perhaps the exception of Lord Grayson, who had seemed to settle his gaze upon Kitty recently. Grayson, however, posed far less of a threat. Kitty would only fall for a highly educated man and Lord Cabot was poised to spring that hidden part of him upon her. Kitty might doubt the lord was such a person, but Penny thought it likely that he was. What might Kitty’s thoughts be if Lord Cabot suddenly discussed the negative quantities of algebra? Or even, Cardinal Wolsey’s history?
Lord Cabot nodded in acquiescence and held his hand out for the ladies’ cards. Mrs. Wellburton stepped into the scene and said, “Goodness, Lord Cabot, very courteous but no need to dance with the girls as you see them so often as it is. You’d best allow other gentlemen to have their chance.”
If her father had caused embarrassment by forcing Lord Cabot to put himself down on their cards, her aunt had just trebled the feeling by insisting he did not. Lord Cabot’s hand hung in midair, as if he had no notion of which direction it ought to go.
“Nonsense, sister!” Lord Mendbridge said. “It is already settled. Cabot takes the first with my daughter and he takes Miss Dell into supper. We must be careful. Our Kitty is not officially out, you know.”
As there was no going against what Lord Mendbridge had so firmly decided, Lord Cabot’s hand continued on to reach for Penny’s card. He dutifully filled in his name and then did the same on Kitty’s card.
As Penny willed the blush to disappear from her cheeks, Lord Mendbridge said, “Ah, here they are—Dalton and Grayson. Well fellows, have you come to beat down the doors of the ladies’ cards?”
Any notion of regaining equanimity flew from Penny once more. Despite knowing his habits so thoroughly and being certain he would take himself off to the card room, Lord Mendbridge seemed in no hurry. This night, he seemed determined to stay and manage the festivities.
“Indeed, Lord Mendbridge, there can be no other doors worth approaching,” Lord Grayson said smoothly, holding out his hand for Kitty’s card. His expression became a deal less sanguine when he looked at it.
“That’s right, Grayson,” Lord Mendbridge said in high good humor, “I’ve arranged for Cabot to take the little lady into supper. She is not technically out, you know.”
Lord Grayson did not seem to follow the logic of the lord’s speech, but only smiled weakly and put himself down for Miss Dell’s first.
“No need to be so glum, my good fellow,” Lord Mendbridge said kindly. “I happen to know, as I have been standing here since the beginning, that my daughter’s supper remains free.”
If Penny could have opened up a mine shaft below her and fallen through it to some dark reaches of the middle earth, she would have gladly done so. Her father was skilled at so many things, but escorting anybody to a ball was not one of them.
Lord Grayson had nodded and dutifully filled in his name on Penny’s card. Lord Dalton had entered his name on both her and Kitty’s cards.
Penny would like to stamp her foot in frustration. She was meant to be becoming more acquainted with some gentleman who might be a future husband, and instead her card was being filled with those who certainly would not. Nor would any of them provide much pleasure or entertainment.
“Move along, then,” Lord Mendbridge said merrily to the flummoxed gentlemen before him. “You must make room for other fellows who wish to make their daring approach.”
The lords Cabot, Grayson and Dalton did as they were directed. Penny looked beseechingly at her aunt.
Mrs. Wellburton said, “Brother, I suggest we make haste to the card room. If we arrive too late, you can be certain we will be left to partner with Mr. and Mrs. Jelton.”
“God, they are awful whist players,” the lord said, rubbing his chin.
“Just so, but very keen all the same,” Mrs. Wellburton said. “You can be certain it will be a game of musical chairs to see who is plagued with them.”
Lord Mendbridge nodded. He was perhaps not as keen on cards as Mr. and Mrs. Jelton, but he appeared to have a healthy respect for their wretchedness.
“Lady Beckman will have things well in hand in the ballroom, of that you can be assured,” Mrs. Wellburton said.
“Yes,” Lord Mendbridge said, “of course she will. Now girls, as my sister notes, Lady Beckman will have things in hand. Do not become afraid that I am not here to arrange things.”
Penny nodded and smiled at her father. The very last thing she would fear at this moment was that her father would not stay to arrange anything.
Lord Mendbridge turned and hurried toward the card room, the fear of being left to Mr. and Mrs. Jelton nipping at his heels. Mrs. Wellburton smiled and squeezed P
enny’s hand before following her brother.
Penny looked at Kitty. Kitty looked back with wide eyes and began to laugh.
“Goodness,” Kitty said, between giggles, “Lord Mendbridge has managed to arrange things most unsatisfactorily. I am to dine with the ox head and you are to attempt supper while Lord Grayson explains what he does not know of Cardinal Wolsey.”
Penny had been mortified, but seeing her friend’s good humor over the circumstance eased her feelings.
“I know you would not wish to dance with Lord Cabot,” Kitty said, “but I suppose it could not have been avoided. As it is, at least it is the first and you will be done with it early.”
Penny nodded. It was of course true. If she must dance with Lord Cabot, it was well that she get it over with.
Those thoughts, the ones that hovered at the top of her mind, did not so much reflect the thoughts beneath them. The thoughts she would never say aloud.
They would dance, as they had so often before. All those times when it had been exhilarating. And now, so much had changed. Balls had once been so bright, but now their luster seemed to have dulled.
*
Henry made every attempt to hide his aggravation after he’d been summarily directed on how to fill out both Miss Darlington and Miss Dell’s cards and then sent away. Why must he take Miss Dell into supper? Why should it be his responsibility to squire her because she was not yet out? It should have been a perfect opportunity to speak at length with Miss Darlington. Now what? Would he be expected to discuss algebra as Miss Darlington had hinted to him? Well, perhaps Mendbridge had it right, Miss Dell would certainly not be in any danger from him.
At least Grayson had been his replacement for the hoped-for supper with Miss Darlington. He was certain she did not care for Grayson’s waterfalls of compliments. It was, at least, better than Burke. Though, he was surprised Lord Mendbridge had not held out for Burke, since he seemed so intent on managing the ladies’ cards. Perhaps Burke was not to attend.
Henry paused. Why was he thinking of who had taken his place? He had hoped he would be afforded the opportunity of another conversation with Miss Darlington. Another chance to see if she might soften toward him. He was not at all comfortable with their current standing, which was no standing at all. He could not be comfortable with knowing another person held him in ill-regard.