The Bumblebroth

by Patricia Wynn

  "But, of course. Why not? It is danced everywhere now, except at Bath, and I know you would not wish for Pamela to appear to disadvantage." He knew he was using Pamela shamefully, but he did not intend to leave Mattie's house without feeling her once in his arms.

  "Oh, no!" Mattie responded precisely as he had expected. "She must never appear to be a country bumpkin! That would not do at all!"

  Her distress made William wince inwardly with guilt. He had guessed that there must have been some episode in her past to make her uncomfortable with society. Nothing he had seen had convinced him that she had a natural aversion to entertainment.

  Her fascination with the theatre was so palpable that he could almost feel her disappointment at the performances she had missed. Today alone, he had watched her dance and seen how much she would enjoy a ball. Something, or someone, he decided, had done something to spoil society for Mattie.

  Vowing to himself to make it up to her, he started to take her in his arms, but she pulled back in confusion.

  "Oh, but I couldn't!" she protested breathlessly. "I don't know how to waltz!"

  William gave her a teasing grin. "That is the most remarkable thing about dancing lessons. One doesn't need to know the steps. I am sure Monsieur Le Gros will teach them to you, but if he will not, I will."

  While she was laughing in response, he took her into his arms, and they stayed in that agreeable position while Monsieur Le Gros showed Gerald how to tame Pamela.

  Chapter Seven

  While they waited— in order to keep Mattie from drawing away from him— William began to show her the basic steps.

  "You must keep your feet always on the floor," he said before starting his count. "The object is to glide about the floor with your partner as your guide."

  "Which partner?" Mattie looked up at him shyly.

  The sight of those blue eyes so close to his dulled his wits for a moment. "I beg your pardon?" William said.

  "Which partner is to do the guiding? You or me?"

  "Ahhhh." William nodded and smiled to himself.

  Having never danced the waltz, Mattie naturally had not learned its conventions, which were unlike any other dance.

  "I see the source of your confusion. The privilege of leading, however, is strictly the male's, and I am afraid that my feelings will be gravely injured if you do not follow me."

  Mattie dimpled. She still looked flustered by the unaccustomed contact. The roses in her cheeks were in full bloom, and her blush extended down to her décolletage, which was unfashionably low.

  William could only be grateful for the peculiar circumstances that kept her gowned as she was, rather than in the current, more modest mode. He suspected that Mattie was too soft-hearted either to demand more dresses from her aged dresser or too timid to hire a younger woman to do the work. The result of her inexperience spurred his senses. He would be sorry to have it rectified, though he knew it soon would be.

  He cleared his throat and began his lesson, dropping his gaze to the floor between them. "We will be moving to the count of three. Please do not be either offended or alarmed if I push you backwards, for that is how the dance is done."

  He moved slowly against her before Mattie hastened backwards to avoid brushing his limbs. She fixed her eyes to the floor, and William watched her steps until she had mastered the basic pattern. Once that was accomplished, his gaze was free to roam at will.

  Golden streaks sparkled through her hair, which shone like satin. Although his mother would not have approved of Mattie's long hours in the sun, they had left only a radiant glow to her cheeks.

  If he had met her in any other place, he would have been drawn to her, but William could only be thankful he had found her untouched as she was.

  A sound intruded upon his thoughts, but it was a moment before he realized that Monsieur Le Gros was attempting to claim their attention. They had been so intent, she on her steps and he on her, they had not noticed.

  "The music, please, Miss Fotheringill."

  Gerald and Pamela had squared off like two boxers in a clench, their heads firmly directed to the floor between them. William stifled a laugh, though the sight of these two determined horsemen in a ballroom would be enough to send his mother into a spasm of nerves.

  The music started, and he and Mattie waltzed about the room. She had a gift for dancing. Only her shyness kept her gaze to the floor, for he was sure the steps did not.

  "It is thought a useful practice to converse with one's partner while simultaneously keeping up the steps. Shall we try it?"

  She dimpled rosily again as she dared to glance upward. "I am perfectly willing, but I cannot speak for my feet. If they tread on yours, you must blame them and not me."

  "Agreed. It will be infinitely worth it to see your face instead of the top of your head . . . . charming though that is," he hastened to assure her.

  "Lord Westbury— " Mattie chuckled and shook her head— "I am sure you are what Gerald would call 'a most complete hand.' With you as my partner, I shall learn everything, right down to the ballroom flattery."

  "You wound me, Duchess. There is no need for flattery in present company. My compliment was sincere, but if Gerald has been saying anything behind my back to ruin my reputation, I shall have to speak to him firmly."

  "Gerald would be far too well-mannered to do anything of the kind, and besides, he seems to be sincerely attached to you."

  William felt a warm smile stealing across his features. "And I to him, in spite of his social shortcomings."

  They both glanced Gerald's way at that moment and discovered the younger couple bounding about the room. Monsieur Le Gros was holding his hands to his head in despair.

  "Gerald," William called, bringing his own steps to a halt, "this is a glide, not a Fandango."

  "What's the difference?" Gerald shrugged and glanced backwards, nearly careening into a chair.

  Mattie suppressed a giggle, and William winced visibly for her benefit. "I might have known you would say something to put me to the blush."

  "That's poppycock." Gerald kept right on with his bounding, and Lady Pamela laughed riotously as they twirled about the room. "Lady Pam and I are happy enough, and that's what counts."

  "Well said, sprigling." William caught Mattie's eye and smiled at her understanding look. "At least he knows that pleasing one's partner is of the greatest importance."

  A hint of sadness flickered in her eyes, which confused, then dismayed him. "You are kind to think that way," she said.

  William felt the muscles in his jaw twitch. He could not respond as he would have liked in front of everyone else, so instead he swept her into his arms and said, "Let's give Gerald's method a try, shall we?"

  Without waiting for Mattie's reply, he spun her in a wide circle until she was laughing, her head thrown back in delight. Monsieur Le Gros clapped his hands in reprimand, and the prevailing atmosphere in the small saloon matched the utter chaos in William's heart.

  * * * *

  When the lesson was over, and the gentlemen long departed, Mattie wandered about the small saloon in a deep reverie. She hummed the tune of the waltz, and every now and then executed a whirl to the beat.

  Soon, Gilly joined her and saw her waltzing by herself. She paused at the door and a frown began to weigh her brow.

  "Are you alone, Your Grace?"

  Mattie spun and gave a startled laugh. "Oh, yes," she stammered. "I must appear quite ridiculous, which makes it good it was you who discovered me and not Barlow. I should never keep his respect if he caught me out in such a foolish posture."

  Gilly smiled, but her brow remained furrowed. "You enjoyed the dancing?"

  "Yes. It was quite delightful. I had not realized how much fun it could be."

  Sadness shadowed Mattie's features, and a sudden pang smote Gilly's heart. "I think that Pamela enjoyed it, too," she said, to redirect the subject.

  Mattie laughed. "Of course she did. It is just the sort of romp that would please her. And Ge
rald was so charming, was he not? He is such a dear boy."

  Her smile faded then. Gilly could see that she was troubled.

  "Is there anything else you wish to tell me?"

  Mattie's eyes flew to hers. "Yes, Gilly. I have been thinking about Wil. . . about Lord Westbury."

  She stumbled over his name, and again Gilly's heart felt a stab of worry. She had watched them dance, had seen his lordship's smooth performance and Mattie's glow, and a frightening possibility had leapt into her mind.

  "What about his lordship, my dear?"

  "It's— about Pamela." Mattie wrung her hands. "Oh, Gilly, what if I've been wrong? What if he would make the perfect husband for Pammy?"

  Gilly hid her surprise as a measure of relief filled her chest. "What made you change your mind so suddenly?"

  "I can't be sure. It may not even be changed. But I cannot help thinking— " Mattie took an agitated tour about the room and came to a halt in front of her. "He is so gentle, you see. So kind and considerate. To hear him speak— he spoke of making one's partner happy— which convinced me, you see, that he would be a thoughtful husband. The way he taught me how to waltz— I could tell that everything he said was meant to put me at ease. Which it did! Oh, Gilly, surely a man like that would make the greatest husband for any girl."

  The seed of worry was growing bigger now, making Gilly feel weak at the knees. She could not bear to see her favourite's heart broken, which it would be if Mattie ever perceived that she'd fallen in love.

  "If what you say is true— " Gilly thought rapidly— "then, yes, I can see why you would want Pamela to consider him. His age is not so much greater than hers that she would be unhappy as his wife."

  A look of relief lightened Mattie's face, though a touch of sadness still remained. "It is so hard to know what is best."

  Gilly put an arm about her. "True. We cannot always know. But, if you think Lord Westbury might, after all, be a proper candidate for Pamela's hand, then perhaps you should not put yourself so much in his way. You should let me act as their chaperon and give them time to know each other better."

  "Of course, that would be the right thing to do."

  Gilly thought, If it would be right, then why does the thought of seeing him less make you look so sad?

  She hoped she had made the most constructive suggestion under the circumstances. She still believed Lord Westbury to be the wrong man for Pamela, but it was clear that Mattie should spend less time in his hypnotic company.

  Her heart had never been touched before, never been given a chance to bloom as other girls' had. Gilly did not want to see it open, only to be crushed by unrequited feelings. Lord Westbury was her junior by many years, and whatever his intent, it was not likely to be directed towards Mattie.

  "Then you may leave his lordship to me," Gilly said, "and not give him a second thought."

  * * * *

  Plans for the rout continued, and soon Mattie was surprised to find herself caught up in the excitement. Now that Lord Westbury had been admitted to the house, he often found the time to call, and offered his help as well. This made it difficult for Mattie to leave him entirely to Gilly, as Gilly had suggested, for she no sooner mentioned in William's hearing the need to engage extra servants for the party, than girls from the village began showing up on her doorstep. Soon thereafter, a caterer knocked on the door, giving by way of introduction, a recommendation from his lordship.

  Before she quite knew how it had happened, Mattie had started saving all her most pressing questions for William. If he did not always know the answer, he did know the quickest way to find it out. When asked, he could tell her what games had been played at the most fashionable London parties this season, which dances would be most proper to play for a group this age, and just which decorations would be needed in the saloon.

  Under his tutelage, Mattie began to think that her rout would be as fashionable as any party in London.

  Caught up in the novel preoccupations of entertainments and refreshments, Mattie forgot until the last moment to order herself a new gown. She might not have remembered this at all, if William had not broached the subject himself.

  They were sitting in the morning room. William, as he had several times before, had made the mistake of calling when Pamela and Gerald were on their ride. Mattie had invited him to wait until the others returned, knowing how disappointed he would be to miss seeing Pamela.

  When the subject of the rout was raised, he desired to know which colours she and Pamela would be wearing so that he and Gerald might send flowers to match their gowns.

  His request threw Mattie into a fluster, which was heightened even more by the rush of pleasure she instantly felt.

  No other man had ever offered to send her flowers, especially not flowers to match her gown. Mattie was groping for a composed response when she suddenly remembered that she had made no plans at all for her dress, and the confidence which had been slowly building inside her at the ease with which all the arrangements were being made exploded in a gasp.

  "Our gowns! Oh, good Lord, I forgot all about them!"

  William's lips twitched, and she felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She had been so pleased with her efficiency, and for William to see what a dunderhead she really was . . . .

  "If you have forgotten to pick them up from the modiste, I should be only too happy to fetch them for you. Just give me her address, and it will be done."

  "You are most obliging— but I— It was very foolish of me, but— " His kind expression prompted her to confess, "I am afraid I forgot to order a new gown either for Pamela or for myself. I don't know how I could have been such a dolt."

  "You are not a dolt, and I should not worry at all if I were you. There is still plenty of time for someone to make you up something new."

  "But you don't understand! Turner— my dresser, that is— would find it impossible to sew that fast. Her joints are swollen, you see, and I could not ask it of her."

  Mattie sighed, and tried to think which of her gowns could serve the purpose with perhaps a change of trimming or some new ribbons.

  "Wouldn't it be possible," William suggested in a cautious tone, "to use the modiste in the village? She is quite good, from what my mother tells me. I don't know her name, but Mama could send you her card. I am certain she would be happy to do so."

  "Oh! But I couldn't impose upon Lady Westbury." The thought alone made her tremble.

  "Nonsense. It would increase her image enormously to have it known that the beautiful Duchess of Upavon and she use the same dressmaker. She would not hesitate for a minute to supply it."

  "But I don't even know what I want." William was so kind to call her beautiful, she told herself to keep from blushing. He always showed such consideration of ladies' feelings.

  William spoke in a patient voice, but his eyes danced. "I am not that familiar with the process of ordering feminine apparel, but from what I understand, the modiste will have pictures to choose from. She can advise you on the latest styles, and the most suitable colours."

  "Really?" Mattie began, almost, to feel hopeful. If ordering drinks and hors d'oeuvres were as easy as she had found, then buying a dress from someone other than Turner might not be as frightening an experience as she imagined.

  In fact, just the prospect of ordering a dress from a woman who, theoretically, would like to sell one, rather than coaxing another one out of Turner seemed very exciting. Mattie's heart picked up its pace as she contemplated the possibility of buying more than one.

  "But," William continued, "if I might make the suggestion, I should tell the dressmaker to make Pamela's in white. White is still generally considered most suitable for ingenues."

  "Yes, thank you for that advice. I certainly shall." Mattie peered up at him and shyly asked, "But what about me? I suppose that for a woman of my age appearing in white would seem quite foolish?"

  "Foolish? No. But it would be a terrible waste when you would look so much more fetching in colours.
For you— " William studied her and, as he looked, the lines of his face softened, making her pulse beat queerly— "either blue to match your eyes or a pale pink."

  "Pink?" Mattie heard her voice squeak and cleared it. She didn't know why it had chosen to desert her just then, but she was not used to such close scrutiny.

  "Yes." He smiled, and, with a pang, she thought again how lucky Pamela would be if this man loved her. "You must have pink to match your roses."

  This reference, as she supposed, to his Great Lie made her laugh, and her fluttering subsided. Then the others came in, and Mattie rose to let Pamela sit near William.

  She listened with one ear to Gerald's excited account of the fox cubs they had discovered on their ride and his and Pamela's plans for a hunt the next year, while she observed the other two as discreetly as she could. Her anxiety was mounting, for she had never yet seen any sign to suggest that William was in love with Pamela. He might be the most splendid catch for any girl, but she could not be happy unless he loved her daughter, too.

  The gentlemen departed soon after this, William giving as his excuse the fact that Gerald smelled of the stable and should change out of his riding clothes, but Mattie wished he had appeared more reluctant to leave Pamela. Pamela, too, had not seemed to care about William's departure. She was spending so much time with Gerald in all her favourite pursuits that she scarcely knew William any better than she had when they'd first met.

  Mattie tried not to let such worries disturb her. The date of her rout was approaching, and she could do nothing to stop it even though its original purpose no longer existed. She had hoped that it would show William that Pamela was too young to make him happy, but that was something she no longer desired.

  If William came to that conclusion as a result of the rout or of anything else, then he would surely return to London and stop calling on them. Mattie knew that for her own sake, as well as her daughter's, that would not make her happy. Since they had met him, their whole lives had changed. No two days were ever alike. Each morning had the promise that something exciting could happen, and Mattie had discovered that she liked surprises.