by Dorothy Eden
She was wholly wrapped up in herself, and certainly wasn’t sharing her mother’s fears that Fanny might spoil her evening.
‘You ought to go down,’ said Fanny. ‘It’s time.’
‘Yes, I know. Oh, dear, I’m so excited I could die. What about you, aren’t you coming down?’
‘In a little while, I’m bringing the children. We’ll wait until the dancing begins.’
‘Fanny! Aren’t you going to tell me I’m beautiful.’
‘Really, Amelia! You’re growing impossibly vain. You look very well, certainly.’
Amelia pouted and tossed her head.
‘I don’t look just “very well”. Already one man has told me I’m beautiful, so I don’t imagine it.’
Fanny watched her go down the stairs, her ringlets bobbing, her feet hardly able to resist breaking into a run. Certainly she did look pretty enough tonight, to turn any man’s head—whose head, like Adam Marsh’s, was not already turned. Fanny should have been more generous in her praise. She should have tried, for a moment, to forget her breaking heart.
The first dance was almost over when Fanny, with Nolly in her starched petticoats and Marcus looking pale and fragile in the rich scarlet velvet, came downstairs. The servants were in a huddle at the foot of the stairs, trying to see into the ballroom. They made way for Fanny, and cook said boldly, ‘The foreign gentleman was looking for you, Miss Fanny. Dora will keep the children if you want to dance.’
‘Cousin Fanny!’ whispered Nolly penetratingly. ‘You promised you would stay with us.’
‘And so I will. But do come and look at the lights and the fine dresses.’
Nolly stared into the brilliant room. All the windows were thrown wide open, but the hundreds of candles, swaying like yellow broom flowers, made the room already unbearably warm. The musicians on a raised dais played with verve and energy, and the dancers, the ladies with their great skirts ballooning, passed in small gales of wind. Uncle Edgar was dancing with Aunt Louisa, both of them looking flushed and triumphant, Amelia with, of course, Adam Marsh. Fanny made her eyes slip over those two, and sought for George and Hamish Barlow. Neither appeared to be on the floor. She sighed with resignation and led the children to chairs along the wall. She would have liked to stay in the anonymous darkness of the hall with the servants, but that wouldn’t have been fair to Nolly and Marcus. So let everyone see her sitting here, looking like a governess.
‘Cousin Fanny! Cousin Amelia’s dress is only white. It isn’t nearly as beautiful as yours.’ Nolly leaned smugly against her.
‘There’s Mr Marsh,’ cried Marcus, pointing.
‘He’s looking at us,’ said Nolly. ‘Mr Marsh! Stop dancing and come and talk to us.’
‘Nolly! What behaviour! People don’t stop in the middle of a dance to talk to children.’
‘Mr Marsh would to us.’
‘Yes, Mr Marsh likes us.’
‘Be quiet, both of you, and listen to the music.’
But their unobtrusive entrance had not gone unnoticed. They were not to be left in peace. Fanny had just noticed Lady Arabella sitting in her chair at the other end of the ballroom, and was pondering joining her, when Hamish Barlow stood over her, giving his exaggerated bow.
‘Miss Fanny! I have been looking for you. May I have the pleasure of the next dance?’
‘Cousin Fanny—’
Fanny shushed Nolly silent.
‘Thank you, Mr Barlow, but I have promised the children to sit with them for a little. This is a great event for them.’
‘I appreciate your kind heart, Miss Fanny, but surely their nursemaid—’
At that moment the music stopped, and the dancers began returning to their seats. Fanny was aware of Uncle Edgar, pompous and benign.
‘By George, it’s a warm night. This tells on an old fogey like me. Well, Barlow, are you persuading Fanny to dance. I promise myself one with her a little later if she will bear with me.’
‘Uncle Edgar, the children have never seen an English ball. I’ve promised to stay with them.’
‘And not dance! God bless my soul, what nonsense! Where’s that girl, Dora.’ He snapped his fingers. A servant came hurrying. ‘Tell Dora to come and take charge of these children. Your zeal, my dear Fanny, does you credit, but it’s quite unnecessary.’
Nolly aimed her little pointed boot at Uncle Edgar’s shin and administered a sharp kick.
‘I hate you!’ she said under her breath.
Uncle Edgar burst into a roar of laughter. It was loud enough to make many heads turn. The little group was the centre of attention.
‘So! You would bite the hand that feeds you, little girl? And you looking like an angel in that pretty white dress. Just like a woman, eh, Mr Barlow? You pamper and cosset them, and what happens? Something displeases them and they let you know it. By George, I love the dear creatures. Whims, pouts, tempers, and all.’
Marcus’s lip was trembling. Nolly prepared to outstare her uncle, her eyes glittering, but Dora had come and Uncle Edgar gave a sign of satisfaction, and moved away to his guests. The little incident was brushed-off as completely trivial, yet for all she had meant it otherwise, Nolly had played into Uncle Edgar’s hands. Once more he was able, in his jovial benevolent way, to show the assembled company his generous heart.
‘Do you dislike dancing with me so much?’
She was so thankful that he wore gloves. At least those freckles which gave her such a feeling of revulsion would not touch her. But his curved pale mouth beneath the sandy moustache, his narrowed eyes, his sharp alert face, were too close to her. She couldn’t escape his gaze while she danced with him.
‘I love to dance,’ she murmured non-committally.
‘And you do it beautifully. Those little feet are like birds flying. What’s wrong now? Don’t you like my choice of words?’
‘I would prefer you not to compliment me.’
He gave a short unamused laugh.
‘Really, Miss Fanny! For a woman not to care for compliments! I’ve scarcely seen you lately. I think you’ve been avoiding me.’
Fanny seemed to be intent on the dance. She looked beyond him to see who Amelia was dancing with. The Talbot boy. Then who was Adam with? She failed to see him.
‘Miss Fanny! I asked if you had been avoiding me?’
‘I have been busy.’
‘Oh, yes, I know about that. But I hoped also you were taking time to reflect on my proposition. Your uncle promised me that you were.’
‘Really!’ Fanny’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘It is wrong for one person to guarantee another’s thoughts. At least that is something one has in private.’
‘And these so private thoughts—have they been a little kind towards me?’
It was too late for mere politeness, too late to cover a rebuff in carefully chosen words. This man would understand only finality.
‘Mr Barlow, I gave you my answer on the lake. I am not the kind of person to change her mind.’
He returned her gaze. His eyes hardened, seemed to gleam with some curious kind of triumph, as if he were turning disappointment to something he almost enjoyed. But Mr Hamish Barlow had looked a self-centred man who would pamper rather than inflict hurt on himself.
‘Then I seem to have been wasting my time,’ he said stiffly. He added, almost under his breath. ‘I wonder if you realise what you have been doing. You are a fool. Your uncle will never forgive you.’
Fanny had a moment of remorse. Hamish Barlow had paid her the biggest compliment it was possible for a man to pay a woman. She should have been more appreciative. But at this moment she wanted only to escape from his gaze, and his touch on her arms. She wanted never to see him again. She scarcely paid any attention to his impertinent remark about Uncle Edgar’s feelings. She merely said, ‘That is scarcely your business. Besides, you exaggerate.’
‘Miss Fanny, what do you think I came to England for?’
‘To wind up Oliver Davenport’s affairs.’
‘Precis
ely.’
‘Perhaps it was to find a wife as well?’
‘Perhaps.’ He seemed to be reflecting with himself. ‘You will see. You will see.’ He added, almost with humility, ‘I wish you could have liked me a little. It would have been so much simpler for everybody.’
Fanny forced herself to say, ‘I am sorry. And now I can see that Marcus is crying. Will you excuse me?’
‘Certainly.’
They found they had stopped dancing immediately in front of Lady Arabella, ensconsed in her chair, her only concession to the grandeur of the occasion a jewelled comb in her hair.
She insisted that Fanny stay and talk to her, and Hamish Barlow bowed politely and left.
Lady Arabella smiled conspiratorially.
‘So I see you have got rid of the fox from China.’
‘How do you know?’
‘My dear child, too much gets written on your face. Learn to conceal your feelings. That is the beginning of power. Well, I thoroughly agree with you. The man is a poor little runt.’ She waved her fan impatiently at Uncle Edgar who was approaching. ‘Go away, go away! I am talking to Fanny.’
‘I’m sorry, Mamma, you can’t monopolise Fanny at a ball. Come, Fanny. Dance with me.’
‘I was about to go to Marcus, Uncle Edgar. He is in tears.’
‘Then let the servants dry them. You’re spoiling those children. I’ll have to put my foot down. Come!’
He had taken her hands and drawn her towards him. She knew precisely why he was doing this. He had seen Mr Barlow leave her and had to know the outcome of their conversation. But she was saved the awkwardness of telling him, for Lady Arabella was waving her fan, and saying in her hoarse carrying voice, ‘You’ve been foiled, Edgar. Ha, ha, ha! But if Fanny hadn’t had the courage, I should have come to her rescue, you know.’
‘What does she mean, Uncle Edgar?’ Fanny asked.
Uncle Edgar didn’t answer for a moment. He seemed to be finding dancing too agile an occupation for a man of his years and weight. His face was almost the colour of Aunt Louisa’s dress.
‘Your Great-aunt Arabella,’ he said at last, ‘I am sorry to say, is a mischief-maker. I suppose it is a danger that threatens all old ladies with too little to do. So am I to understand that you’ve dismissed Mr Barlow, Fanny?’
‘Yes.’
‘That was very foolish. Very foolish indeed.’ Uncle Edgar’s voice had gone soft with what seemed like sincere regret and even sympathy.
‘Uncle Edgar, my future at present is with the children.’
She hated having to plead. But supposing he took Nolly and Marcus away from her.
‘Yes, yes.’ He dismissed that subject as if it were of little importance. His eyes were rather persistently on her throat. ‘Do you know, you look extremely well tonight. You remind me of—’
‘Of whom, Uncle Edgar?’
‘Eh? Oh, of someone I knew a long time ago. The long white throat…’ The inward look in his eyes was strange, it seemed to hold more loathing than admiration. Who was the woman he was thinking of? Someone who had hurt him as she had just hurt Hamish Barlow?
‘Well,’ he said, and he seemed to be speaking to someone else, ‘let us be friends in spite of all. Now I will release you to go to those pampered children.’
But Dora had taken the children out, and Fanny, still affected by Uncle Edgar’s oddness which she would not admit had frightened her, suddenly had to escape from the hot ballroom. She slipped into the conservatory hoping no one would be there. It was such a mild still night that most people seeking air would go on to the terrace.
She was unlucky, of course. There was someone there already. She knew him instantly from the set of his shoulders. And in the same moment he must have sensed her approach for he turned.
‘Well, Miss Fanny!’ said Adam Marsh. ‘You look distressed. I realise some of us are not expert dancers.’
‘I have more than sore feet,’ Fanny burst out, and then was angry that the temptation to confide in him was so great. What did he care for her and her problems?
He came towards her, his eyes twinkling maddeningly.
‘You are looking very charming. Has someone been telling you so too pointedly? Mr Barlow perhaps?’
‘They can’t make me marry him?’
‘They?’
Uncle Edgar’s strange look, a mixture of love and hate it had seemed, was still with her. She couldn’t understand why the shiver of fear had gone over her.
‘I would marry you,’ said Adam Marsh, in an undertone, as if speaking to himself.
She flung round on him furiously. ‘Don’t joke with me. Go back to Amelia. She will be missing you.’
He didn’t move. His eyes, too, were on her throat. But not in the way Uncle Edgar’s had been.
‘That’s a very valuable jewel you are wearing for someone who says she is penniless.’
‘If you imagine I have a jewel box overflowing with these things, Mr Marsh, you are mistaken.’
Their eyes met in a hard unflinching stare.
It was Adam who spoke first.
‘I wasn’t imagining anything of the kind. I expect your uncle gave it to you.’
Fanny’s hand was over the sapphire pendant. Why did he have to make his harmless words suggest that the gift had been some kind of bribe? The unreasonable fear caught at her again.
‘What is the matter?’ she heard him asking in concern.
‘I have tried,’ she said intensely, ‘I have tried to get away from here. But the children came to stop me, and now—’
‘I beg you not to go.’
‘You? Why?’
He came closer, not answering. His eyes had that deep strange glitter she had noticed once before.
‘Because I would hate you to go.’
Her voice had lost all its assurance.
‘Go back to Amelia.’
‘You said that before. I have no intention of doing so’—his arms were actually about her waist and she was weakly letting herself be drawn towards him—‘until I have kissed you.’
She felt the hardness of his body against hers. She knew she should struggle, but her lips were parting, her eyes closing. Very well, he would kiss her. What was a kiss? Surely not this strange bewildering ecstasy that made her so dizzy. She had to lean against him, waiting for the touch of his lips which never came.
For a moment later she was snatched back so roughly that she almost fell.
‘Don’t do that, Marsh,’ came George’s voice.
His grip on Fanny’s shoulder was so firm that she would have had to struggle ignominiously to get away. She said furiously, ‘George, you are a devil!’
George laughed with pleasure and triumph. His eyes were too bright with what seemed to be an uncontainable excitement.
‘Fanny is mine, Mr Marsh, as you must have observed. I’ve had to make that clear to Mr Barlow, too.’
Adam was very pale, his mouth angry.
‘Don’t you think you are taking too much on yourself, Davenport? I fancy your cousin isn’t a person who can be dictated to. I suggest you take your hands off her?’
‘So you can kiss her in a dark corner! Not a chance!’
No one had heard Aunt Louisa come. Suddenly she was standing there, like a great crimson peony, visibly palpitating with annoyance.
‘Fanny! What’s going on here? Are you letting these foolish men quarrel over you? George! Mr Marsh! I’m surprised. Is Mr Barlow here, too?’
‘Mr Barlow isn’t here, Mamma,’ George said smugly. ‘Fanny and I have sent him packing. And I’ve just had to explain to Mr Marsh here the lie of the land. Now Fanny is coming to dance with me. You don’t need to worry, Mamma. I have the situation under control.’
Fanny wrenched her arm away from George. She was blazing with anger.
‘I’m not going to dance with you, George. Now or ever! I’m not going to dance with anybody. I have a headache. I ask to be excused.’
‘But, Fanny—’
‘No,
George! The situation isn’t under control after all.’
‘But, Fanny—’
‘Fanny!’ Aunt Louisa exclaimed. ‘You can’t leave the ball!’
‘Would you have me faint at your feet, Aunt Louisa?’
‘What nonsense! You have never fainted in your life.’
Fanny was already at the door. George, flushed and perplexed, made an impulsive movement towards her. Adam stood perfectly still, his face composed and expressionless. He might have opposed George, but he was too gentlemanly (or too cowardly?) to oppose Aunt Louisa. Once again she faced her disillusionment. As George had said, he had wanted only a snatched kiss in the dark.
So her beautiful dress, her pleasure in the dancing, her eternal optimism that perhaps tonight something wonderful would happen to her, were all wasted. She had not had the opportunity to dance with Adam once. She had only quarrelled with him, and then weakly surrendered to him. Now she despised him only slightly less than herself.
It was true that she felt dizzy and faint, and for the first time without hope.
She turned and ran up the stairs before anything more could be said.
Hannah came to her room to see if she would have a soothing drink, or needed help to undress. Fanny sent her away. She only wanted to be alone.
She had let her ball dress slip to the floor, and lay on the bed in her petticoats. She could hear the violins and the sound of voices and laughter. They were distant, because her room was at the opposite end of the house, facing the yew garden and beyond it the copse. She supposed it would be almost daylight before the carriages rolled away and the guests who were staying overnight came upstairs.
Her head ached badly, and it was a long time before she could fall asleep. When she did she was woken with shattering suddenness by a hoarse scream.
She started up in terror, the nightmare darkness pressing on her.
Oh, but it was the peacock, she realised, almost but not quite able to laugh at her foolish imagination. Although it still seemed so dark it must be nearly dawn.
17
AMELIA ALREADY DRESSED IN her morning gown of lavender muslin stood at the door.
‘How are you feeling now, Fanny? Wasn’t it sad that you had to leave the ball? Mamma said you were feeling faint.’