by Jocelyn Kirk
Bramble snuffled at her and shook his head vigorously. His head shake continued down his entire body, and the women jumped back laughing as the air was filled with hair and dust.
“No need to brush him now,” said Megan. “All his loose hair is on our gowns!”
****
Although Willa had gained much self-confidence from her lessons, she regained some of her shyness when faced with the prospect of sitting at a formal dinner with wealthy people who spoke a certain way and had been formally educated. She insisted on Elena’s practicing with her time and time again so she would be sure of which article of silver and plate to use. Megan had to take on the role of Lorelei Morgan and greet Willa at the door. Elena had settled with her aunt that Rosalie would introduce Willa as “my niece’s friend, Miss McCrea,” and this scenario was practiced several times, with Willa curtseying and saying, “I am very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Morgan.”
Elena was rather in a flutter herself when the day of the dinner party arrived. Many months had passed since she had dressed for a social occasion. It was an intoxicatingly beautiful July evening. She longed to flirt and dance and charm every man near her, and it was pleasant to feel that she would be dining with the important men of the town. Their host, Bartholomew Morgan, was not only independently wealthy by means of inheritance, but also had invested in the new Connecticut spur of the Boston & Maine Railroad. The word in the village was that the investors would realize a huge return when the trains began to run. His friends and business associates were all wealthy men from Mystic and several nearby towns. He had business and political connections in New York and Hartford, and rumor had it he might be considering a run for state senator.
Rosalie had a comment on that. “Good lord, one cannot see Lorelei as the wife of a politician!”
The great occasion arrived, and Elena was so busy helping Willa dress and settling her nerves, she had little time for herself. Willa found her trying hurriedly to dress her own hair, and she exclaimed with true contrition, “Oh, Miss Bellwood…I mean Elena! I have been very selfish! Here, please let me do your hair.”
Willa skillfully braided Elena’s long golden hair and arranged the braids around her head. “My goodness,” she said when finished, “you are as pretty as a flower!”
Elena glanced in the mirror. She was rather surprised at her reflection. In New York, she had been pallid and delicate-looking—a porcelain figurine—but now she appeared more robust. Her skin had taken on a fine glow from all the time spent outdoors running about town or riding in Megan’s gig. Her eyes were bright and had lost their look of well-bred boredom.
Thinking aloud, she commented, “My mother would have been scandalized to see my complexion with such a tan!”
“I think it looks very nice with your hair and eyes,” Willa replied. “Look how the color of your skin highlights your beautiful hazel eyes.”
Elena laughed. “It’s never a good idea, Willa dear, to look too closely at oneself before a social occasion. One sees only the flaws.”
“You have no flaws,” said Willa.
Elena rose from her dressing table and turned to Willa. “Enough about me…come, let me look at you. Very nice! The rose shade of your dress suits you exactly. Your eyes are as large and softly brown as a doe’s. You will have every man there at your feet.”
Willa blushed. “I hope only one thing—that I will not disgrace my kind benefactors. How amazing! I’m going to a dinner party!”
“You are indeed. Now come, let’s see if my dear aunt is ready.”
Rosalie kept a fat pony that spent most of his time grazing in his paddock behind the house, but she did not have a carriage. Left to her own devices, she would have walked the half mile to the Morgan home, but Ben had insisted on taking out his carriage and driving her and the girls.
“No objections, Rosalie,” he had said, raising a hand to silence her. “Edward can drive Megan in his barouche, and there will be ample room in my fiacre for three ladies as slender as all of you.”
He arrived punctually and stepped upstairs to escort them to the vehicle. How handsome he looks! was Elena’s secret observation. She had not seen him before in dinner clothes, and her New York manners coming to the fore, she curtseyed flirtatiously and presented her hand to be kissed. He obliged with a smile.
Ben looked appraisingly at the three ladies before him. “Really,” he said, “it’s almost more than any man should have, to enjoy the honor of escorting three such beautiful women! I’m tempted to refuse Mr. Morgan’s invitation, for as soon as we enter his drawing room, you’ll be set upon by every gentleman there, and I will fade into insignificance. I should like it better if I could simply drive you about town so everyone can see me in all my glory.”
The ladies laughed. “Ben,” declared Rosalie, “as handsome as you are in your dinner clothes, I’m very afraid we will be the abandoned ones.”
They started downstairs. Ben and Rosalie began talking of farming issues, and Willa took the opportunity to whisper to Elena, “Miss Bell…Elena…I don’t believe it would have been proper for me to compliment Mr. Garrick’s appearance, is that correct?”
“Yes. A lady does not generally do such a thing.”
“But Miss Murdoch did.”
“She did, but that is a different circumstance. She’s thirteen or fourteen years older than he and has a relationship with him that is very much like sister and brother.”
“Why would it be wrong for you or me to compliment him?”
Elena considered. “Well…a lady must never give a gentleman the impression that she is…taken with him. It might lead him to assume more than she would want him to assume.”
Willa seemed satisfied with this vague answer, and the ladies arriving at the carriage, she stood politely aside for Miss Murdoch to enter first. Elena was proud of her, for she observed that Willa had retained the natural humility of a very young woman without the air of subservience that had marked her behavior as a maid. How delightful to bring about such a transformation! I’m quite proud of my achievement!
Elena felt gratified and excited as she entered the handsome drawing room of the spacious Morgan home and saw the ladies and gentlemen assembled therein. Glasses tinkled and candles glowed, and after the introductions, the two girls stood just inside the reception area for a few minutes to admire the scene before them. The Morgan home had two drawing rooms, and the doors between them had been thrown open for the soiree. Elena was delighted with the pale and sophisticated décor—cream silk drapes flowed from the high windows, blending with the whitewashed walls and bleached wooden floors. The carpets were a mélange of coffee brown, cream, and the pale blue of a summer morning sky. Lorelei Morgan’s fine taste extended to the furnishings as well; the sofas and tables were elegant but not overworked or stiff. Beyond the two drawing rooms, Elena could catch a glimpse of the dining room, with the table set in colors of rose and mauve.
Willa echoed her thoughts. “The rooms are so lovely!”
After admiring the scene before her, Elena’s first impulse was to seek after Megan. Willa was uneasy detaching her arm from hers, but Elena whispered, “My dear, you must not appear too shy. A little shyness is fine, but you must look as though you’re accustomed to such occasions.”
Fortunately, Rosalie took Willa away to meet a woman who needed a young lady to read a few hours every day to her elderly aunt. Elena hurried off to Megan, who came from a far corner of the room to meet her.
“Did you see her?” whispered Elena. “Does she not look lovely?”
“I caught a brief glimpse and was startled! She does not look the same girl!”
“My aunt has taken her to meet the tiresome Mrs. Tapley.”
“Mrs. Tapley? Why?”
“She’s looking for a young lady to read to her aunt, or some such thing. She will pay quite handsomely, according to Aunt Rosalie.”
Just then the two ladies were interrupted by the looming nearness of Benjamin Garrick and Reverend Ries.
/> “What schemes and plots are you hatching now in your lovely heads?” asked Ben.
“Make a joke of us if you please,” Megan retorted, “but you must confess that Willa has turned out very well!”
“She has indeed,” he answered. “I only hope she can keep her modesty intact, for she’s going to find herself the center of attention wherever she goes.”
“How ungallant!” cried Elena. “And what of your sister and me? Do we pale in comparison to our protégée?”
Edward laughed. “Let me see you talk your way out of this, Ben!”
“Nothing easier,” he replied. “These two ladies before us are so inured to being considered beautiful, they surely must know that I meant Willa would be the belle of every ball where they are not in attendance.”
Edward roared, and Elena slapped Ben with her fan.
“You are ungovernable,” she exhorted. “I do not know how my aunt has patience with you.”
“Speaking of your aunt,” he said, “if dancing takes place after dinner, may I have the honor of the first?”
“Certainly, but what has that to do with my aunt?”
“Nothing, but I wanted to get my request in before the other gentlemen find the courage to ask you. Come, Edward, let’s find where Morgan has hidden his good scotch. I’ll need some artificial good humor to get through an entire dinner in a starched collar and tails.”
The two men strolled away, and Elena, watching them move through the crowd, was not aware that Megan was regarding her with a rather disturbed expression until she turned back to her friend.
“Megan, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing, I…”
“Come, tell me. I must have said or done something to distress you, judging from your expression.”
“It is only this,” confided her friend, drawing closer. “Elena, do not…do not break his heart. Please.”
Elena stared at her. “Break whose heart?”
“My brother’s. I’m afraid he’s falling in love with you.”
“Good lord, you cannot be serious! He’s kind to me because of his friendship with my aunt, but I believe he thinks me a useless debutante, the sort of woman that no sensible man would ever—”
Megan interrupted her with a shake of her head. “No, my brother certainly does not consider you a useless debutante. I heard him say to Edward a few days ago that he had never met any woman who had a kinder heart and a greater willingness to listen to others and learn. He quite admires you, and I only ask that if you would never consider him as a husband, you make it quite clear early on.”
Elena was too surprised to speak and could only nod dumbly. Ben Garrick falling in love with her? Megan must be wrong, and yet who knew him better than she?
Megan took her arm. “Come, let’s forget this conversation and enjoy the occasion. I see Willa—shall we steal her away from Mrs. Tapley?”
Willa’s little circle of friends was pleased to see that she behaved very well at her first party. She was quiet, but this was appropriate at her young age. At dinner, she spoke briefly when spoken too. She remembered all her lessons as to sitting straight and using the correct utensil. Elena often turned toward her with an encouraging smile. She was very glad that Willa had been seated next to Ben; she knew he would give her any advice or assistance she required.
The number at table was sixteen, but Mr. Morgan informed them more friends were expected later, and there would be dancing. At his words, Elena turned to him with a smile that betrayed her flutter of excitement. “How wonderful, Mr. Morgan!”
After Mr. Morgan’s announcement of the ball, Elena was happy to hear a very young man who was sitting near Willa ask her for the first dance. He was a Mr. John Pratt, whose father, Josiah Pratt, was also in attendance. From the general conversation, Elena learned that the elder Mr. Pratt had some sort of involvement in the new railroad. The gentlemen for the most part forbore speaking of railroads on the assumption that ladies had no interest, but a few comments were made here and there on the subject. When dessert was being served, Elena happened to be speaking to Mr. Carter Sims, who was seated on her left, when she heard through the buzz of her own conversation and that of others these words from Mr. Pratt:
“I say, Morgan, did you know that a certain wealthy, titled Englishman has bought the lion’s share of stock in the Boston & Maine Railroad?”
“Aye,” assented Mr. Morgan, “Simsbury is the name. Evans wrote me from New York that the man spends most of his time in America and has his finger in any pie that promises to make money.”
Elena felt her face redden. She glanced at Megan and knew from her friend’s expression that she had remembered the name Simsbury.
Rosalie knew nothing of Elena’s experience with the duke, but now she innocently commented, “A titled Englishman! He will create a sensation if he visits Mystic on railroad business.”
“He will indeed,” agreed Lorelei Morgan. “Half the young ladies in town will set their cap for him!”
“Perhaps he is married,” ventured Elena.
Bartholomew Morgan shook his head. “A single man, according to Evans. My dear”—to his wife—“I would not be sorry to introduce him to Mathilda.”
Mathilda was the Morgan’s single daughter, and Elena had to smile thinking of the Duke of Simsbury making conversation with the liberal, bookish, outspoken clone of Lorelei. In true form, Mathilda stated, “No, thank you, Papa. I have no intention of marrying, especially to a pompous Englishman who will dally with his mistresses while I sit in some cold mansion in New York or gloomy castle on the moors of Scotland!”
The guests laughed heartily at Mathilda’s remark, for though rather inappropriate at a dinner party with mixed company, her words had the ring of truth. Oh dear, that was exactly what Elena would have been doing if she had married him!
When the laughter died down, Ben spoke. “Bravo, Miss Morgan! I’m pleased to find that you are every bit as intelligent as your mother!”
Mathilda flashed Ben a wide smile.
Elena didn’t think Miss Morgan would object to marrying if Ben were her suitor. Oh dear, she acknowledged to herself a tiny prick of jealousy. That was not good, for she had no wish to marry a man whose greatest ambition was to make a map of the sky.
Aloud, she said, “Mr. Morgan, I was somewhat acquainted with the duke in New York, and his last words to me were of his engagement to an heiress. Is your New York associate quite sure he’s still single?”
Morgan shrugged. “This is what he wrote me, my dear. I’ve never met the gentleman myself.”
Mathilda swished the wine in her glass and glanced at Elena. “Perhaps the heiress thought better of devoting her life to producing scions for the house of Simsbury.”
“Perhaps,” Elena replied. “But he was considered the catch of the season. Every girl was after him.”
After the gentlemen had taken their port and the ladies rested, the dancing commenced. Ben and Elena waited politely until Mathilda Morgan and her partner had begun, and then they swirled onto the floor with the other dancers. Elena felt her soft blue gown turn and float as she danced, and she suddenly felt prettier and happier than she had ever felt during her New York life of endless debutante soirees. Her smile reflected her sense of well-being, and Ben smiled in return.
“I hope your happy expression displays your satisfaction with your partner.”
Elena suddenly remembered Megan’s words of warning. She suppressed her delight and answered only, “Of course.”
The evening’s festivities continued, and Elena was never without a partner, although Ben did not ask her again. Willa was doing very well, dancing with young Mr. John Pratt, among others, and talking with his two sisters. Elena smiled; it was unlikely Willa was giving much thought to the sailor James Scott tonight! She liked Mr. Scott and hoped he would do well, but a girl like Willa with her dark, expressive eyes and slender, graceful form—to say nothing of her intense training in the ways of a lady—must and could do better than to s
pend her life watching and worrying while her husband did daily battle with the cruel and uncaring sea.
All in all, Elena was fully satisfied with the evening. Ben seemed quiet and thoughtful on the drive home, and Willa was exhausted, but she and her aunt chatted softly about the event. Rosalie had danced several dances, and Elena was pleased to find she had enjoyed herself as much as her niece had.
“I wish, my dear,” Rosalie said in conclusion, “more such soirees were held here to provide you with a bit more amusement.”
“I assure you, Aunt Rosalie, that this evening was amusement enough to last me for quite a period. Now that I look back on my debutante days, I wonder how I managed such a continuous round of social events. It’s interesting, is it not, that ‘amusement’ is amusing only if it does not take place too often.”
“Well said,” Ben commented.
Elena was startled to find he had been listening. She had thought he was engaged in his own private thoughts.
Her aunt felt the same, as indicated by her next words. “A penny for your thoughts, Ben. You seem quite distracted, and I’m surprised you heard Elena’s comment.”
“Distracted, yes,” he replied vaguely. “My mind is on the heavens.”
“I do hope you won’t stay up all night at the telescope.”
“No, I have too much scotch and port wine circulating in my blood to be an accurate observer. And perhaps…”
“Yes? Perhaps what?”
“Perhaps my mind was occupied by a different sort of heaven.”
Elena’s buried jealousy came to the surface, and before she could stop herself, she said, “I imagine you refer to the heaven of dancing with Mathilda Morgan. Do not despair. Her vow of remaining single would not hold up against your proposal, I’m certain.”
Ben turned full around from the driver’s seat and stared at her. “Mathilda Morgan!”
Elena blushed. She had taken a liberty and was now to pay the price. “I was not serious, I assure you…”
They arrived at the Book & Candle. Elena covered her embarrassment by gently shaking Willa awake. Ben escorted them silently to the door, bowed, and immediately left.