“I promise.” Suddenly Calista did not feel so happy in her new dress. Had the colonel been offering her his protection? She was not so sheltered that she did not know of the actresses and women of lower birth who enjoyed the protection of the King or other noblemen. They were spoken of in hushed tones amongst the gentry, with the gossips repeating the details in tones that managed to sound both outraged and excited at the same time.
It did not make sense. If the colonel did not think it suitable for her to be a paid companion, he was hardly likely to offer her his protection. Was he? Men and the way their minds worked was something of a mystery to Calista. Especially men like the colonel, who were older and much more experienced than the insipid and hesitant young men whom she met at dances in her own village. And he were offering his protection in that way, would he really be introducing her to the king? Part of her was still concerned that his only reason for doing so was to repay Blanche for almost involving him in a duel. Perhaps Blanche had been right all along, and he was in love with her. Was it possible that he wanted to marry her step-sister, whilst keeping Calista as his mistress?
Given that Blanche had overshadowed her for so many years, it was all too easy for her to think herself into the lesser role. Blanche got what she wanted. Blanche had men lining up to dance with her, only dancing with Calista whilst they waited for her step-sister to be free. Was it possible that the colonel only intended to amuse himself with Calista until Blanche accepted his offer of marriage?
It will not happen, she told herself silently as she went downstairs to join Lady Bedlington and the colonel. As much as she loved him, she would not become his mistress under any terms. She would much rather starve in the gutter. If he mentioned giving her his protection again, she would tell him in no uncertain terms that she did not need it. How could she have been so naïve as to think he meant anything else by his offer?
She was halfway down the staircase before she realized he was waiting at the bottom, watching her descend. He was frowning slightly, but she barely registered that. Dressed in his uniform, with its tight fitting red jacket, white breeches and highly polished knee-high boots, he took her breath away. Never had she seen any man look so powerful and magnificent. All her previous affirmations dissipated under a rush of desire.
It was only after she noticed the way he looked that she really took note of his frown. She wondered if he did not like what she wore. Or perhaps it was because she was not Blanche.
“You look breathtaking,” he said, his eyes watching her intently as she walked down the last few steps.
“Thank you.”
“But you also look sad, Calista. May I ask why?”
“I am not sad,” she said. It was not exactly a lie. She was not sad. Only confused, conflicted and overwhelmed with longing for him. “I am just a little nervous about tonight. I’ve never seen the King before so I hope I will not do anything to disgrace myself. Or you and Lady Bedlington.”
“I am sure you will not.”
Lady Bedlington came from the salon into the hallway. She stopped and looked Calista up and down, but not in an unpleasant way. “Oh yes, Calista. You do look charming. The King likes pretty girls, so I am sure he will take to you. You look very handsome, Brook. Now if someone does not say something nice about my looks, I’ll be inclined to sulk all evening.”
Lady Bedlington wore a gown of black satin and lace, decorated with hundreds of shiny black pearls. Calista had no idea if they were real pearls, but they were certainly spectacular. “You look lovely,” she said.
“A picture,” said the colonel, kissing his aunt on the cheek.
“Is the right answer.”
They travelled across London in a fine carriage, and as they drew nearer to the palace, Calista’s earlier fears melted away to be replaced by abject fear. She was going to meet the King. What if he hated her? What if she did say or do the wrong thing? Exactly what did one say to the King? She knew that one did not speak unless one were spoken to. So that part should be easy. Only she had a habit, when she was nervous, of needing to fill silences. She made a mental note not to do that tonight.
They reached St. James Palace around nine o’clock, approaching it from Pall Mall. The gate house was lit up and it was thrilling when the carriage drove through the gates. She was going to visit the Court of St. James!
“It’s hard to believe this used to be a leper hospital,” said the colonel.
“Did it?”
“Yes, Henry the eighth built the palace, hence the Tudor style of the architecture. Daniel Dafoe considered it a bit ‘low and mean’ compared to other palaces in Europe.”
“I think it’s a wonderful building,” said Calista. “Dafoe clearly does not appreciate good architecture.”
The carriage came to a halt inside the courtyard, which was brightly lit. Some guests were standing outside waiting for their name to be called. They waved a greeting to the colonel and Lady Bedlington. The colonel helped his great aunt, then Calista down from the coach. The pressure of his hand on Calista’s told her that he knew just how nervous she was feeling. She hesitated slightly.
“Come,” he said gently. “Let me present you to the King.”
Had he not been wearing all his finery, Calista might not have realized that the rather portly, out-of-breath man standing next to a matronly woman was the King. He reminded her of the grocer in her town, who always had something amusing to say whilst he packaged up the vegetables. Thinking of the King in such a light made him seem less frightening. He was after all just a man, like any other man. The years of pleasure, whilst his father refused to let him take any part in State affairs, had taken their toll, leaving George the Fourth looking like a tired, old man. The lady next to him, and his constant companion since she ousted his last mistress from his affections, was Marchioness Conyngham. It was said that the Marchioness was the only one who could deal with the King’s ever changing moods.
Calista curtseyed low, as Lady Bedlington had been teaching her for the past few days. “Charming, charming,” said the King, smiling at Calista. “Do we not think so, Lady Conyngham?”
“Yes, a most pretty girl.”
To Calista’s great relief, the King did not say any more to her. “Good to see you again, Colonel Windebank. Lady Bedlington. Perhaps you will join us in a game of cards later.”
“I would be delighted your majesty.”
They moved further into the ante room. Through a set of double doors, Calista could see that people were already dancing.
“There,” said the colonel, “that was not so awful, was it?”
“No. I was afraid he would ask me something complicated and I would not be able to answer.”
The colonel laughed and said in a low voice, “The King would be afraid to ask anything complicated in case he did not understand the answer. Would you like some champagne?” Without waiting for a reply the colonel stopped one of the attendants and handed a glass of champagne each to his aunt and Calista.
“One thing I like about the palace is that drinking is not forbidden,” said Lady Bedlington.
“Have you ever drunk champagne before, Calista?” asked the colonel.
“No, but I believe I am expected to make a comment about the bubbles going up my nose.”
“I will be extremely disappointed if you do not.”
Calista took a sip of her drink, and her first thought was to wonder what all the fuss was about. The champagne was certainly not as nice as the wine they had drunk at dinner. It seemed rather heavy and gassy to her.
“An acquired taste perhaps,” said the colonel, when she wrinkled up her nose.
“Yes, perhaps.”
She looked around to see who else was at the ball, not that she knew many people in London. She recognized a few who had attended Almacks. Everyone was dressed even more elegantly than before, but she also noticed that the atmosphere less relaxed. One did not let one’s guard down in the Court of St. James even if there was champagne on offer.
<
br /> The King was still greeting guests, and Calista almost dropped her glass when she saw that not only was he talking to the Earl of Garton but that they were looking in her direction.
Chapter Nine
“Shall we dance, Calista?” said the colonel. He too seemed interested in the discussion going on at the entrance, and the frown Calista had seen on his face earlier returned.
“Yes, thank you.”
He took her hand and led her to the ballroom. The dancers were waltzing. “I’ve never waltzed,” she said.
“Then let me be the first to teach you. It is not too difficult.”
It was not difficult, but it was exciting, not least because unlike most of the quadrilles and jigs that Calista had danced, the colonel was touching her the whole time. She was acutely aware of the heat of his hands on her waist, through the thin material of her gown. Her own hand fluttered against his shoulder, almost afraid to touch him, because of the sensations he evoked in her. She knew that the waltz had been considered scandalous, and was only recently becoming popular in Britain. She could understand why. The waltz created an intimacy between a man and woman that no other dance ever had.
She felt as though she were being swept along on the air, and by the time the dance finished, she was flushed with excitement.
Another dance, a jig, started straight away.
“Shall we?” said the colonel, his eyes looking as heavy as when he had kissed her hand earlier that day.
“Yes. Unless you would prefer to dance with one of the other ladies.”
“I would not.”
“Don’t keep the girl all to yourself, Windebank,” a voice said. It was Garton. “I wish to dance with her.”
Calista understood that to refuse would create a scene, but nevertheless she appealed to the colonel with her eyes not to leave her with the Earl.
“Come along, Windebank.” It was the King, and he was laughing. “You cannot keep the prettiest girl in the room all to yourself.”
It had the manner of being a command, and one which neither Calista or the colonel could ignore. She nodded to the Earl shyly, and they began to dance. She could only feel relief that it was not a waltz. The idea of the awful Garton touching her as the colonel had was horrendous to her. Nevertheless she felt as if he leered over her during the times when he did have to take her hand in his.
“Need to talk to you later,” he said in staccato tones whenever they were close enough.
“I am afraid I will be attending Lady Bedlington most of the evening,” said Calista. It was a lame excuse, but the only one she could think of at the time.
“Need to talk to her too. Clear this thing up once and for all. Realise I came on a bit strong. You’re young and need to be guided by a man. Will do right by you. Don’t worry.”
If it was an apology, it did nothing to stem her fears. Nothing that the Earl could do would be right by Calista. It was not just her love for the colonel that prevented her from liking him. It was a deep and abiding distaste for the Earl that had nothing to do with her feelings for any other man.
She was extremely grateful when the dance ended and another man asked her to dance. She said yes without really caring who he was. As long as he was not the Earl.
Once or twice during the next few dances, she glanced across and saw Lady Bedlington and the Earl involved in intense discussions. He would walk away, then return, seeming to berate Her Ladyship about something. The colonel danced with a couple of other women, but he too kept looking towards his great aunt and Garton were talking.
Eventually, and with great relief, Calista found herself dancing with the colonel again. “I am afraid,” she said. They were dancing a quadrille, so there was not much chance to speak more than a few words.
“Do not be.”
The Earl of Garton had moved away from Lady Bedlington and was involved in deep discussions with the King.
“He will not take no for an answer.”
“He will have to eventually. I have told you, I will protect you.”
Calista stiffened, and almost lost where she was in the dance. Nothing more was said until it ended, at which point both she and the colonel were summoned by the King. Lady Bedlington was also called over.
“Now let us sort this out,” said the King. “We are aware that Garton here is very taken with this young lady, but that she has refused him.”
Everyone stopped to listen.
“That is true,” said Lady Bedlington, when no one else spoke.
“Then it is your job to make her see sense, Lady Bedlington. We approve the match. The Earl wants the match.”
“Surely,” said the colonel, “Miss Haywood’s own feelings on the matter should be taken into account.”
“She will be a countess. The girl would be silly to refuse. Now, Miss Haywood,” said the King. “I realize that it is the fashion for young women to appear reluctant, but the Earl is a good catch and we approve. You are not going to disagree with your King, are you?”
“I…” Calista felt as if the room swam around her. If the King were ordering her to marry the Earl and she refused, what might the consequences be? “I do not love him.”
The King laughed. “Such things come after marriage, child. Now, can we assume this is settled?”
“No,” said the colonel. “No, Your Majesty, we most certainly cannot assume it is settled.”
“You are disobeying me?” said the King.
“No, not at all, Your Majesty. You know that I trust your judgement in all things. But … I had not planned to announce this yet, but you have rather forced my hand.”
“Come on man, speak, speak. Announce what?”
“Miss Haywood has already agreed to become my wife. Is that not so, my love?”
The room really did spin then. Calista opened her mouth to speak then closed it again. She hardly knew how to reply. She could not denounce him as a liar in front of the entire Court, and yet she did not know how legally binding his announcement was. Did it mean they really had to get married? Or was it merely to buy time, so that Garton would lose interest? She wanted to be married to him, but he had effectively fallen on his sword for her, giving up his independence. How could she let him do that? Especially if he was not in love with her.
“Yes, that is correct,” said Lady Bedlington, when Calista did not say anything. “It was supposed to be a secret, for now at least. My great nephew has indeed asked for and received a promise of marriage. I tried to warn him that Miss Haywood is very young and should be allowed to have her first season in London. But what can one say when two people are so clearly in love and so clearly suited to each other?”
“Is this true, Miss Haywood?” asked the King. That was when Calista realized he was not nearly as stupid as people thought.
“Yes,” she said, somewhat breathlessly. She was lying to the King, and deep down she wondered if it were possible to be executed for such a lie. “Yes, it is true.”
“You love the colonel?”
“Yes.” That at least was not a lie, and judging by the King’s reaction he did not doubt her words.
“Well, this calls for a celebration! Hard luck, Garton, but a promise is a promise and I am sure you would not wish these young people to renege on it.”
“I can do no more than congratulate you,” said Garton. He smiled, but his eyes were hard and cold. It sent a shiver of apprehension down Calista’s spine, but that was as nothing compared to the momentous announcement the colonel had just made to save her from marriage to the Earl. She wanted to speak to him alone, to tell him that he need not keep his promise, but it was impossible. People flocked around them, urged on by the King, wishing them luck and happiness. Some men made risqué jokes to the colonel. All the time he was watching her face. She was supposed to look happy. She knew that. And under any other circumstances, the idea of being married to the colonel would be wonderful. Instead she felt as if her life had fallen apart.
She loved him with all her heart, but he did
not love her. She was still convinced that he had only intended to offer her such protection as was offered to women of low virtue. Yet in front of the King and the entire court he had announced his intention to marry her. She had to find a way to set him free, otherwise he would spend the rest of his life resenting her.
“Well,” said Lady Bedlington as they rode back home in the early hours of the morning. “That should give the whole of London something to talk about. You certainly know how to get everyone’s attention, Brook.”
“It will be a nine day wonder, I am sure,” said the colonel. He was looking at Calista, who had barely been able to speak since the announcement.
“They will expect a wedding,” his great aunt said pointedly.
“And they will get a wedding.”
“So when is the happy event to take place?”
“As soon as possible. Do you not think so, Calista?”
“Surely you did not really mean it,” she said. Her throat was so constricted she could barely say the words.
“On the contrary, I meant every word. One does not announce such a thing in front of the King then change one’s mind.”
“I know you only said it to be kind, so that I did not have to marry the Earl, but I am sure that if we just left it a while people would forget and…”
“I do not think anyone will forget. I most certainly shall not.”
“Perhaps we should talk about this tomorrow,” said Lady Bedlington. “I think Calista is very tired, Brook, and a little overwhelmed by everything that has happened. It is not every day that a young lady meets the King and is then proposed to in court.”
“Of course,” said the colonel. “Forgive me, Calista. We will discuss this in the morning when you are rested.”
Calista was tempted to protest that she had not actually been proposed to. The colonel had announced their engagement, Lady Bedlington had agreed it was already in place, and they had all lied to the King. It was not how she imagined a man would ask for her hand in marriage. And she had dreamed of the colonel asking her to marry him. Only in her dreams they were alone and he started by declaring his love for her in the most passionate terms, taking her in his arms and telling her that he would die without her. She could see now that it had been a childish fantasy and no doubt one drawn from reading far too many silly romantic novels.
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