by Bess McBride
“I still fail to understand how Miss Hickstrom can allow or disallow such things.”
“No, I fear you do not. You are aware of her great power, but you do not know how she may control Rachel...or even your future. I cannot interfere in this matter, and I leave that up to you and Rachel to resolve.”
St. John tipped his hat. “Good day, Halwell. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening.”
Halwell bid St. John good day as the earl remounted his horse and rode through the gates of Alvord Castle. Halwell held his horse’s reins and watched St. John trot down the lane. He found himself wishing that St. John might have invited him in for a cup of tea or a drink or some other social nicety, such that he might encounter Miss Lee.
He had not thought to see her again and certainly did not imagine that he would stand at the gates of Alvord Castle, at one with St. John and with every intention of attending the ball.
Chapter Seventeen
Mary tucked an ivory silk rose into Rachel’s hair the following evening, declaring herself satisfied.
“You look beautiful!” she said.
Rachel stared at her reflection in the dressing table mirror and blushed. Her hair was piled into a fluff of curls at the crown of her head. Mary had pulled some tendrils loose to drape down the back of her neck. The color in her cheeks actually matched the rose lace overskirt of her ivory silk gown. Her gray eyes glittered. She rose and turned to look at Mary, stunning in a turquoise satin gown.
“So do you,” Rachel said. “Thank you so much for the loan of this dress.”
“You’re welcome. I wish I had some other shoes that fit you. I didn’t know it would rain yesterday, and I forgot to tell you the slippers just about fall apart in the rain. No ready-to-wear shoe stores around here! Are your athletic shoes going to be all right? You’ll have to be careful about sitting so they don’t show. Just make sure your skirts cover them.”
Rachel grinned. “I’m just happy to be back in them and thankful my things were delivered. They have great arch support. Those slippers don’t.” She eyed Mary’s small slippers.
“I know. Here, I brought some gloves. We have to wear gloves.”
Mary crossed over to the bed and picked up two pairs of white gloves. She handed a pair to Rachel before slipping into her own. Rachel pulled them up to her elbows, splaying her fingers.
“Are you ready to go downstairs?” Mary asked. “The guests will arrive soon.”
“As ready as I can be. You know I haven’t met anyone other than Lady Georgianna and Halwell...and the servants here. I’m a wreck! I think I’ll hang out with Roger while you and St. John do the hostess thing.”
“Roger! Rachel, you’re not...developing a thing for Roger, are you? I mean, I guess there’s nothing wrong with that—not to me—but, well, I don’t know what I’m saying. I thought...Halwell?”
“I like Roger. He’s a good listener, and he’s got this dry sense of humor that makes me chuckle. The Halwell thing, I think that’s OBE, don’t you?”
“Overcome by events?” Mary smiled. “If Hickstrom comes tonight, are you going to ask her to let you go, to send you back?”
“I think so.
“St. John saw Halwell yesterday. They had quite a meeting of the minds.”
“In solidarity? Against Hickstrom’s meddling ways?”
“I guess.” Mary pressed her lips together, and Rachel had the impression that she held something back.
“What is it?”
“I can’t really say. St. John thinks it’s best if he and I stay out of your and Halwell’s business.”
“Halwell and I don’t have any business, Mary. It’s okay. I’m over it. Well, I’m going to be over it. And I’m still going to hang out with Roger.”
“Well, don’t go breaking the estate manager’s heart!” Mary said with a broad smile. “We need him to work!”
“Oh, no chance of that! He’s another confirmed bachelor, remember?”
“Yeah, I’m not sure what his deal is.”
“Me either, but I can’t forget how he just about panicked at the thought that he was Hickstrom’s target.”
“Target, yes, that’s a good description. Normally, an estate manager wouldn’t necessarily be invited to a ball, but he and St. John are like family.”
“Yes, I know.”
Mary drew in a sharp breath. “I’m scared, Rachel! I’ve never faced this many nineteenth-century people before. Our wedding was a very small thing. I feel like I’m going to be exposed at any time!”
“I can imagine. Me too, but I can skedaddle, if Hickstrom lives up to her word.”
“We’re not alone. St. John knows. Roger knows. Even Mrs. Green knows. I don’t think Halwell knows though.”
“St. John didn’t tell him in their newfound friendship?”
“No, he didn’t think he should violate your privacy.”
“He’s such a good man. You are so lucky that he loves you, Mary! Not that he shouldn’t love you!” Rachel rushed in. “Just that...you’re lucky, that’s all.”
“I know it. I know it. St. John still despises Hickstrom, but she did me a solid!”
Rachel laughed. “Wrong decade! You haven’t been gone that long!”
Mary gripped Rachel’s hand. “Come on. We’d better go. I’m sure St. John is probably as anxious as I am. It’s not like he’s been to a ball in years himself, much less thrown one.”
They left Rachel’s room and descended the stairs. St. John, stunning in black coattails and trousers, a brilliant white cravat and a black satin waistcoat, looked up at them. The admiration in his eyes for his wife was heartwarming.
Beyond him, footmen and maids scurried around making final preparations. Mrs. Green could be seen dashing down the hall.
“You ladies look splendid,” St. John said, taking his wife’s hand.
He kissed her cheek, and Rachel noted he paused to whisper something in Mary’s ear that made her blush. Outside, Rachel heard the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel drive.
“Whoa! Just in time!” Mary whispered. “I gotta run! Roger should be here soon.”
As if she summoned him, the estate agent slipped through the front door, handsome in black coattails and neatly combed blond hair.
“Roger, can you take care of Rachel?” Mary asked, moving to stand next to St. John in a semblance of a receiving line. “I don’t want her to have to stand here and answer questions from guests.”
“Certainly,” Roger answered. He offered Rachel his arm. “Let us go inspect the ballroom.”
“You look very handsome, Roger,” Rachel said. She grinned as his face reddened.
“And you look very fetching, Miss Lee.”
“Rachel,” she murmured.
“Yes, Rachel. I am doing better.”
“You are. You get it most of the time.”
They stepped through an open doorway leading off from the foyer and into a large ballroom. Beyond the ballroom was a connecting door that led to the dining room, where Mary had explained an al fresco supper would be laid out.
The oak floors shone. A small orchestra had set up on a dais at one end of the room. Rachel had peeked into the ballroom a few times during the preparations and loved the elegant ivory patina of the wallpaper, the matching satin on chairs lined along the walls.
Brilliantly lit chandeliers glowed golden over the room. Floor-to-ceiling oval windows graced several walls. Large gilt-edged mirrors reflected the footmen still scurrying around. Mrs. Green adjusted the flowers in one of many standing arrangements before nodding hastily in greeting and hurrying away toward the dining room.
“Superb,” Roger said. “This room was little used during the former earl’s time, as they did not care for the country. I am so pleased to see it in use again.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Rachel agreed. She heard voices near the door in the foyer and gripped Roger’s arm tightly. “Here we go! I’m a nervous wreck.”
“May I ask why?”
�
��Because I don’t belong here, and they’re going to know.”
“I respectfully disagree, Rachel. You do belong here. You are a breath of fresh air in a very stuffy society.”
“Oh!” Rachel blushed. “Roger! How nice of you to say.”
“I speak only the truth.”
“Phelps, are you here?”
Behind them, a medium-statured stout man approached with an equally sized lady on his arm. The gentleman in black coattails nodded his head. His companion in royal-blue satin stared at Rachel. Roger bowed, and Rachel followed his lead with a curtsey.
“Yes, Lord Fairchild. Good evening, Lady Fairchild. Lord St. John requested my presence.”
“Of course,” Lord Fairchild said. “I meant no offense...estate agent as you are. And this is your lovely wife? I did not know you had married? But why should I? We are naught but neighbors.”
“No, your lordship. This is Miss Rachel Lee. Miss Lee, Lord and Lady Fairchild. Miss Lee is a friend to Lady St. John.”
“Ah! Lady St. John! Very nice to meet you, my dear,” Lord Fairchild said. That time he did bow in Rachel’s direction. “Are you visiting?”
“Yes, I am,” Rachel said, thinking she should keep information to a minimum.
“Are you American like Lady St. John?” Lady Fairchild asked.
“Yes, I am,” Rachel said again.
“How delightful,” the lady said. “A very fetching gown. Is that from America?”
“No, I don’t think so. Lady St. John lent it to me. I think she said it was from Paris.”
“Quite nice,” Lord Fairchild said.
The foursome stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.
“What a lovely ballroom!” Lady Fairchild finally said. “I have only seen it once before when I was a young girl. Very lovely.”
Roger and Rachel nodded.
Another couple moved into the room, and the Fairchilds turned in some relief.
“Ah! Dunsbar! There you are!” Lord Fairchild called out. He nodded in Rachel and Roger’s direction and moved toward the new arrivals, who appeared similar in age.
“This has to get easier, or I’m heading upstairs!” Rachel muttered under her breath.
“I think Lady St. John would be most distressed if you left, Rachel.”
“You’re right. I know she’s nervous too.”
The room began to fill then, slowly but surely, and Rachel started to relax. The newcomers tended to move toward the gathering crowd around the Fairchilds, whom Rachel assumed were social leaders in the neighborhood.
“Would you care for a glass of ratafia?” Roger asked. “I believe that is appropriate to offer a lady.”
“You believe? Wait! Roger, you’ve never been to a ball either, have you?”
“I have not, and I do not know how to dance. I hope you will forgive me.”
“Why didn’t that occur to me? So what is this ratafia?”
“I have never tasted it myself, but I believe it is a bit like a fruit punch mixed with something stronger, perhaps brandy?”
“Wow! I’m not sure I should be drinking.”
“Perhaps not. You must keep your wits about you. I shall abstain as well.”
The ballroom continued to fill, thankfully, and the musicians struck up the music. Roger led Rachel to a chair along a wall that was out of the way of several lines of dancers. Rachel watched in fascination as the couples danced their way gracefully through intricate steps that she could never hope to memorize. She looked at up Roger, who had chosen to stand.
“No one is going to ask me to dance, right, Roger? Not if you stand there, right?”
“I do see some bachelors in the room, Rachel. There is no reason why they would not ask you to dance.”
“What do I say? Just no thank you?”
“No, that is not considered polite. If you truly do not wish to dance, I suppose you could say that you have hurt your foot or something similar.”
“Oh, that’s good! That’s what I’ll do!”
Despite her dismissive talk of Halwell, Rachel couldn’t help but look for him. She hadn’t seen him since he’d told her he couldn’t ever fall in love with her, but she wanted to see him nonetheless.
Halwell finally arrived along with his mother and a tall gentleman who seemed to be the spitting image of Halwell. St. John and Mary followed them into the room, so Rachel assumed they were among the last guests to arrive. They must have been, for the room was filled to capacity.
“Is that Halwell’s father?” Rachel asked.
“Indeed it is,” Roger replied. “Lord Robert Alton! I had not heard he was coming home. He is rarely in the country, preferring city life.”
“What an odd marriage!” Rachel said. She stared so hard at Lord Alton and Lady Georgianna that she didn’t realize Halwell was looking directly at her. She blinked, and her heart thudded.
“It is not so unusual as one might think. Many times arranged marriages do not succeed, and the couple lives apart.”
“Oh, was their marriage arranged?” She pulled her eyes from Halwell and looked up at Roger, who bent near.
“Most aristocratic marriages are. Customs dictate that they marry within their class, and circumstances dictate that they marry for financial advantage. I believe the countess came with a fortune as well as a title in her own right. She often refers to herself as Lady Howard, though she is also Lady Alton.”
“I see,” Rachel said.
Roger straightened, and she saw Halwell had departed his parents’ side and was headed straight for her.
“Roger! Roger! Halwell is coming this way!”
Rachel wasn’t sure what she expected Roger to do about it. Before she knew it, Halwell bowed before her, resplendent in black coattails and a Delft-blue brocade waistcoat that matched his eyes.
“Miss Lee, you look very fine tonight. Phelps.” Halwell nodded at Roger.
“Thank you,” Rachel responded, certain her cheeks were as rosy as the lace on her dress.
“Good evening, Lord Halwell. I see that your father has come from London.”
Halwell turned to look at his parents greeting others.
“Yes, most unusual,” he said. Halwell turned back to look at Rachel. He bowed, and she held her breath. Was he leaving already?
“May I have the next dance?”
Rachel glanced up at Roger. He stared into the distance, as if he wasn’t there. She was on her own.
“I have hurt my foot,” she said.
Halwell bent near.
“How? Have you seen a doctor? Was anything done? Phelps? Has she been attended to?”
Halwell’s concern was palpable, and Rachel felt dishonest. Roger cleared his throat and shook his head weakly. With a sensation of being trapped by the standing men, Rachel stood. As short as she was, standing didn’t resolve her feelings of entrapment. She looked up at Halwell.
“Okay, I lied. I didn’t hurt my foot. That’s what I was going to tell strangers.”
“I believe I shall fetch some lemonade,” Roger said, leaving.
“I can’t dance,” Rachel said. “I never have.”
“Ah! I understand,” Halwell said with a return of his old smile. “You could have told me that. Are the dances in America so very different?”
“I’m not...we don’t... Oh, Halwell, there are things you just don’t know about me. It’s too hard to explain, and it doesn’t really matter anyway.”
Halwell’s smile evaporated, to be replaced by an intent look.
“It matters to me, Miss Lee. What should I know about you? I would like to know more about you. Everything, in fact.”
Rachel drew in a sharp breath and dropped her eyes to the floor. She noted that the tip of one of her shoes stuck out, and she pulled it back under the hem, but not before Halwell followed her eyes.
“I see that you received your clothing. I think there is a tale to be told regarding your style of clothing, Miss Lee. Is this one of the things that I should know about you?”
“Tell me then.”
“Not here, not now.”
Halwell followed her eyes as she looked around the room.
“If not now, when? I fear you plan to leave soon. You have said as much.”
“Yes, if I can.”
“I am saddened to hear that but puzzled by your response. Do you not have the means to leave if you want? Perhaps that is too impertinent of me to ask. If you are in need of assistance, though, I would be happy to oblige.”
“Oh, no, Halwell. Thank you, but it’s between me and someone else.”
He drew his brows together. “But if it is a question of money, you have no need to ask them. I presume you refer to Lady St. John or Lord St. John?”
“What? Money? Oh, no, no, it’s not that! Halwell, were you offering me money? How sweet!”
Halwell’s face reddened. He cast a glance toward the dining room, and Rachel followed his eyes. Roger was on his way back with a drink in his hand.
“If not money, then who or what prevents you from leaving? Miss Lee! I cannot believe I even ask this, because I do not wish you to go. I apologize for my impertinent questions, but I am forced to speak quickly given that Phelps returns.”
Rachel turned to look at Roger again.
“But wait! It is not Phelps, is it? The estate manager? Do not tell me that he has anything to do with your desire or ability to leave or remain!”
“Roger?” Rachel asked in confusion.
Roger arrived and handed her a glass of lemonade. Halwell turned on him as if angry.
“You! You allowed me to pour my heart out, and all the while, you!”
“I beg your pardon, your lordship,” Roger said, taking a step back. “I? What did I do?”
“I think it is very clear what you did and what you have done, not the least of which is allow me to confide in you like a lovestruck schoolboy. You, the ‘confirmed bachelor’ indeed! Your behavior was underhanded, and now I must recollect all of your words to determine which you used to influence me.”
“Your lordship, I fear you misunderstand.”
“I think not!” Halwell bowed and raised darkened blue eyes to Rachel as he straightened. “I wish you both every happiness.”