A Sapphire Season

by Lynn Morris

  “Mirabella!”

  “You know it as well as do I, admit it.”

  Wryly Josephine said, “All right, I admit that pleasing physical features are nicer than looking like a troll. Are we finished with Lord Trevor?”

  “Hm, yes, I believe we are. On to Mr. Aldington. The heading is ‘The Honourable Denys Aldington.’ He is the heir to Baron Aldington, and so one day will be Lord Aldington. My children will be ‘the Honourables,’ and my eldest son will one day be Lord Aldington. The Aldington estate, I believe, is around ten or twelve thousand pounds per annum, perfectly adequate. In fact, I’ve visited Harpendon House, and it’s a gracious, sizable manor house. Oh, and also put down as a pro that they have generous succession greenhouses, five I believe, and a lovely conservatory that could easily be expanded.”

  With amusement Josephine said, “And so we like Mr. Aldington for his conservatory? I’m not at all surprised, about that at least. But Mirabella, I am a little puzzled, for Mr. Aldington doesn’t seem to me to be the kind of man who would attract you. His air is, I don’t know, somewhat withdrawn and even melancholy.”

  “I’ve seen that in the last weeks. I can assure you that he wasn’t always so somber. In fact, even last Season he was actually a jolly, easygoing gentleman. But I think that there may be a reason for his change of countenance. You see, his only sibling is a sister, and I think now she must be about twelve years old. She was born mentally defective, and she has severe fits. It’s so tragic, they have a terrible time trying to feed her and get her to drink. But the family has never put her in an asylum, they’ve always taken excellent care of her, Denys included. They had always even brought her to London during the Season, along with her nurses. But I’ve noticed this year that Lady Aldington didn’t come to Town, and it may be that little Charlotte’s condition has worsened. I’ve wondered if that might account for Denys’s somberness this Season.”

  “I see, it’s always so heartbreaking to see afflicted children, or adults, for that matter. The Aldingtons have made great sacrifices, and I admire them for it. So you’ve met the girl? Charlotte?”

  A dreamy, pensive sort of look came over Mirabella’s face. “Yes, I have, last summer when we were invited to Harpendon House for two weeks. Normally they keep her hidden away, she’s quite pitiful. But I noted that Denys would often disappear in the afternoons, and one day as I was walking in their gardens I came upon them. He took her for walks in her wheeled chair, you see. He wasn’t at all upset that I saw them, in fact he said that he was glad to introduce her to me. After that I often went with them.”

  Quietly Josephine said, “I had no idea that you knew him so well. Now I can see exactly what is in your mind. To be sure, such a man would make a fine husband and father.”

  “Precisely. And also, were you aware that he, along with Lord Trevor Brydges, was with Giles on their Grand Tour? Yes, the three of them were so close that they decided to tour together. When Giles received word of his father’s death, Denys insisted on returning home with him. He did return to Florence after Sir Edwin’s funeral, but still, it shows a devotion and loyalty to a friend that is rare.”

  “That is so true, and admirable. I know now that I must add Giles’s approval to Mr. Aldington’s pros, perhaps doubled.”

  Mirabella smiled. “Certainly. Now for the physical attraction component. Denys is handsome, in that sort of sensitive, expressive manner of some men. His features are, perhaps, unremarkable in themselves, but you must admit that his eyes are so eloquent, not to mention well shaped. And he does have such divine eyelashes, any woman would envy him.”

  “‘Eloquent, well-shaped, divine eyelashes,’” Josephine murmured. “And his physique is admirable, too. He doesn’t have the rakish air of a sportsman, but he must exercise in some manner.”

  “As I said, this rather doleful, distant air isn’t like him at all. He is a sportsman, and he boxes and fences. He’s also known as a fine horseman, and a good whip hand.”

  Josephine said ruefully, “So my impartial judgment of Mr. Aldington was utterly incorrect. I thought my instincts were infallible.”

  “You did no such thing, you’re one of the most level-headed, insightful persons I’ve ever known. Now, I think we’ve finished our charts, as you so impertinently named them, for this evening at least. I can hardly believe it, but I’m feeling sleepy. We have another week to do further assessments. As I said, I’ve come to a decision to make a decision, and I intend, at my birthday ball, to decide which of the three I shall consider most seriously.”

  “I, too, am feeling fatigued, and I must say that the plum ratafia has definite soporific qualities,” Josephine said, stifling a yawn. “But please, may I ask you one last question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you—how are you envisioning, in your mind, what your marriage to these men would be like?”

  Lightly Mirabella replied, “I’ve been envisioning marriage for at least a year now. I see a comfortable home, extensive gardens, and children, two boys and two girls.”

  “And you are going to arrange that, also? In what order, pray?”

  “Josephine, I think I’ve had a bad effect on you, you’re much more satiric than you used to be. Boy-girl-boy-girl, if you must know. As for my devoted husband, he has never had a face. Soon I hope to supply one.”

  “You will let me know, will you not? Naturally I’m curious.”

  Mirabella hugged her. “Of course, darling. We shall convene another assessment meeting. When I’ll know who will be the first to be judged.”

  Chapter Eleven

  On the morning of her birthday, Mirabella awoke early and couldn’t go back to sleep, she was so excited. Refusing her usual tea and toast in bed, she dressed and went down to have breakfast with her parents in the garden loggia.

  “Good morning, Mamma, Pappa,” she said cheerily, going to the sideboard to see the delectable breakfast dishes. “A very happy birthday to me, and I wish myself many happy returns of the day. I’m now officially twenty-two years old, and I don’t feel any older than I did yesterday.”

  “You don’t behave much older than you did four years ago,” Lord Camarden said affectionately. “Before you breakfast, Mirabella, please sit down. Your mother and I have a gift for you.”

  Mirabella smiled. “I thought you might, but I didn’t like to ask.”

  “Whyever not?” Lady Camarden said. “You don’t mind asking at Christmas.”

  Lord Camarden said, “Matthew, bring Lady Mirabella’s gift.”

  The footman went into the house and returned with Mirabella’s gift on a silver platter. As soon as she saw the sky-blue velvet box, Mirabella knew what it was, and she gasped. Matthew set it down in front of her. Slowly Mirabella opened the box. It was the sapphire-and-diamond parure. “Oh, Mamma, Pappa, how could you? It’s—I would never think of a gift that is so costly.”

  “So it was,” Lord Camarden said. “Audrey told me you said I’d have an apoplexy, and I very nearly did. But when I saw it, I could see how it suited you, and that it would make you happy. That’s exactly what we want.”

  “I am happy, I’m so fortunate, I’m so grateful,” she said in a low voice. A small card was in the box, and Mirabella unfolded it. In her mother’s beautiful hand was written the text of Proverbs 31:29. “Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.”

  Every year her parents gave her a card with this verse, and every year it brought her to tears. She looked up, her eyes luminous and shimmering. “I thank God for you every day,” she said softly. “If there is any virtue in me, it’s because of the Lord, and because of you and the godly home you’ve given me. Thank you, with all of my love.”

  “You’re very welcome, Mirabella,” her father said, smiling. “Now that’s done, you may have breakfast and I shall return to the Times.”

  “No, there’s something I must do first,” she said as she half-ran back into the house. Soon she returned wearing the necklace, the earrings, and e
ven the tiara. She looked absurdly childlike with her simply braided hair and her plain white morning dress. “I’m going to wear them all day!” she said gleefully.

  “Yes, they’re so appropriate for day wear,” Lady Camarden said caustically. “The servants are going to be scandalized.”

  “Colette already said that I’m fou comme un lièvre Mars,” Mirabella said. At the puzzled look on her mother’s face, she translated, “As mad as a March hare. She thought I didn’t hear her, but I did. I always do. But I don’t care in the least, I’m going to wear these all day and all night, for my ball. I may even sleep in them.”

  “That will assuredly guarantee insomnia,” Lady Camarden said.

  Soon Lord Camarden took his leave. Josephine came down before Mirabella had finished her breakfast. When she saw Mirabella, she stopped and her eyes widened. “Well, good morning, Your Majesty. I perceive you’re already having a happy birthday.”

  “Indeed I am. Oh, we’ve so much to do, Josephine, you simply must hurry your breakfast. The flowers will be here any time now, and the floral experts.”

  Mirabella always insisted on having fresh flower arrangements on the day of her ball. She was so obsessive about the flowers, it had frustrated her no end to try to attend to all of them in one day. Three years previously, when she was visiting the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts, it had occurred to her to question the president and acclaimed artist Benjamin West. She asked who did the floral and fruit arrangements that the artists used for their models. He told her that the Academy always had three or four talented student artists who were skilled in landscaping the backgrounds and creating the model floral arrangements. Since then Mirabella had hired these artists to do the arrangements for her ball.

  Lady Camarden said, “Mirabella, don’t be selfish. Josephine may not want to spend her entire day harassing those poor young men who try to please you with their arrangements. Josephine, I’m going shopping with Lady Sefton. Would you like to accompany me?”

  Josephine glanced at Mirabella, who promptly said, “Of course it’s all right, Josephine, I’m perfectly capable of persecuting the florists all by myself. I’d likely forget about you anyway.”

  Irby came out to the loggia to somberly announce, “My lady, the flowers have arrived. They are bringing them in now. Would your ladyship prefer to supervise how they are to be distributed?”

  “Good heavens, no, Lady Mirabella will attend to it,” Lady Camarden said. “My intention is to stay out of her way.”

  “Mamma, may I—” Mirabella said, hurriedly rising from her chair.

  “You’re excused.”

  She ran into the house.

  Two enormous cartloads of flowers of every description were being taken into the dining room by porters. Mirabella inspected virtually every blossom and leaf, and found them acceptable. The three young men from the Royal Academy arrived, and Mirabella did indeed spend the next several hours supervising them so minutely that the poor beleaguered artists often simply stood by and handed the flowers and greenery to Mirabella to arrange them as she pleased.

  Twelve dining tables, each big enough for ten people, had been placed in the dining room. Just as they were finishing the floral arrangements, the footmen came in to place the cloths and set the tables with fine Sèvres china, gleaming polished silver, and crystal wineglasses. The fruit centerpieces for the dining tables still had to be done, but Mirabella realized that she was fatigued. Reluctantly she left the fruits for the artists and went out to the garden to have tea. Seven wrought iron tables, each seating two, surrounded the fountain, and wearily Mirabella sat down at one of them, grateful for the warm afternoon sun. In her excitement she had forgotten to put on an apron, and the front of her dress had gotten damp, as was inevitable when one was arranging flowers in water. She was slightly chilled.

  A footman brought her tea, and it was scanty, with only one plate of biscuits. Mirabella wasn’t at all surprised. She knew the kitchen must be absolute bedlam. Six cooks had been hired to assist Monsieur and Madame Danton. Mirabella smiled as she thought to herself that her harassment of the florists had likely been mild indeed compared to what those unfortunate cooks must be enduring.

  Giles came into the garden, holding a parcel, and sat down with her. He eyed her fine jewels and her damp soiled dress and grinned. “You look just like when you were five years old and played costumes with your mother’s jewelry. It’s really adorable.”

  “Thank you so much, sir, every woman loves to hear that she looks like a cute little puppy. Tea? Thomas, bring another teacup.”

  “I have a gift for you,” he said, and handed her the parcel.

  Mirabella unwrapped it and said with delight, “Pride and Prejudice, thank you, Giles. I’m certain we’ll love it, we enjoyed Sense and Sensibility so much.”

  “I haven’t read it yet, so I’ll ask you to return it to me when you’ve finished it.”

  “I most certainly will not. Get your own copy, I have no intention of giving my birthday gift back to you. I never ask you to return books I give you.”

  “That’s because you only give me the ones you despise. And so, it’s your birthday. I like your birthday, because it means you’re an older woman, and I find older women intriguing.”

  “Silly man, you know I’m only older than you for three months. And I do not see that you find older women at all intriguing, I’ve noted that you’ve been paying particular attentions to Lady Margaret FitzGeorge, and she’s barely seventeen, for shame.”

  “I’m not such a doddering ancient that I can’t dance with seventeen-year-old girls. Are you jealous?” he asked slyly.

  “What! Certainly not!” she indignantly exclaimed.

  “I meant of her youth, since you’re now an older woman.”

  “‘Oh! it gives me the hydrostatics to such a degree,’” Mirabella said, her eyes dancing.

  “‘Since you desire it, we will not anticipate the past,’” Giles quoted. “However, I shall precipitate the future for the ball tonight. I haven’t been able to waltz with you yet, so I demand a waltz. I know that you’d rather be publicly embracing other men, but you owe me for my masterful instruction.”

  “Perhaps I should simply pay you so that I’ll be free to embrace other men,” Mirabella said icily.

  Giles shook his head. “No, that will not do, I won’t accept filthy lucre for my dance tutelage.”

  “Very well, you may blackmail me for a waltz.”

  Giles’s expression grew thoughtful. “The custom is to wish you a happy birthday, and many happy returns of the day. And so, Bella—are you happy?”

  Mirabella was surprised. “Am I happy? Of course I’m happy. Why shouldn’t I be?”

  He searched her face carefully. “I was just asking. I want you to be happy, Bella.”

  “Well, you may rest assured that I am. Giles, is something amiss?” she asked with a hint of anxiety. “You sound, I don’t know, distant.”

  He rose, smiled down at her, and warmly said, “No, nothing’s wrong, at all. I’ll see you tonight. Don’t forget my waltz.”

  * * *

  Lord and Lady Camarden and Mirabella greeted their guests in the entrance hall. At first there was only a trickle of early arrivals, but precisely at nine o’clock the hall grew quite crowded. Still, it didn’t stop four young men, including Harry Smythe, from importuning Mirabella for dances; Lord Trevor Brydges and Denys Aldington had already strictly reminded her that they had precedence. Mirabella was chagrined to realize that all of her waltzes were taken and Lord Southam had not yet arrived. Even as she cordially greeted her guests, she reflected that Lord Southam rarely danced country dances, and she grew slightly anxious that he might not stand up with her tonight.

  Lady Caroline Lamb arrived with her husband, the Honourable William Lamb. Mr. Lamb was a fine-looking man, although these days he was always grave. Lady Caroline had once been accounted a great beauty, with lustrous dark eyes and a wealth of curly hair, but in the last year she
had deteriorated. She was so thin as to be skeletal, and her eyes were wide and staring, and darted about constantly. Mirabella had barely curtsied to her when Lady Caroline grabbed her shoulders, pulled her close, and in a desperate whisper asked, “Did you invite him?”

  Gently Mirabella said, “No, Caro, I’m sorry, but I don’t know him at all. I’ve only spoken to him once in my entire life.”

  Lady Caroline sighed, a trembling indrawn breath. Without another word she took her husband’s arm and they went up the staircase.

  Lord Southam was one of the last to arrive. Mirabella thought he looked extremely handsome in his finely tailored black coat and superbly tied white cravat, and of course his muscular legs were always shown to advantage in white stockings. His own dark eyes grew warm with appreciation as he greeted her. “Lady Mirabella, you are glowing with a beauty that even overshadows those exquisite sapphires. Every woman here will be envious.”

  “You grossly exaggerate, sir,” Mirabella said, blushing a little, “but I forgive you, and welcome you.”

  To her disappointment he merely smiled and went up the staircase.

  Mirabella did indeed look dazzling. When she had finished dressing, she realized that her sapphires were exactly the color of her dress, and in fact, both matched her eyes perfectly. On this night her eyes were almost as brilliant as her jewels.

  As soon as all the guests had arrived, Mirabella went upstairs. The ballroom was expansive, spanning the width of the house. It had a marble floor and delicate sage-green-and-white wallpaper, and double French doors at each end opened to balconies overlooking Grosvenor Square in the front and the garden at the back. Two large crystal-and-gold chandeliers lit the room, and along the walls all the sconces were backed by mirrors that added to the brilliance.

  Mirabella easily saw Lord Southam, as he was taller than most of the men in the room. He was talking to Lord and Lady Jersey, and Lady Jersey stopped in the middle of a sentence to greet Mirabella. “Darling, I’m absolutely livid with jealousy, you look so smashing tonight, and those jewels! Why, they must be worth a king’s ransom, wherever did you get them and more importantly, how much did they cost?”