Curricle & Chaise

by Church, Lizzie

  Much to her relief Charles disappeared immediately on leaving the carriage and Lydia and Julia were able to take their places in the set with a couple of officers of Julia’s acquaintance who were stationed nearby. The dance was one that Lydia knew well and she was able to converse quite happily with Captain Briggs without fear that she would lose her place. Her partner was witty and amusing enough and it seemed no time at all before their two dances were over and she was back with her party again.

  It was unfortunate that, just at this time, Charles returned from having renewed his acquaintance with some of the locals over a few ales and immediately claimed her hand for the next two dances. She would rather have stood out on her own than dance with him but she felt under some obligation to him for actually being at the ball at all. So she swallowed her dislike sufficiently to give him her hand with seeming goodwill and took her place at the bottom of the set opposite him. It was even more unfortunate that their dances immediately preceded supper. There was no chance of escaping him – she must allow him to take his refreshment at her side.

  ‘Thank you for all your kind attention, cousin,’ she said, as she finished her meal, in a desperate attempt to rid herself of him for a while. ‘But please don’t feel obliged to stay with me all night. There are plenty of pretty girls here who must be desperate to have you as a partner. I must not keep your attentions all to myself.’

  ‘Do you think that I want any of them when I already have the prettiest woman in the room at my side?’ he demanded, rather thickly. She hoped he had not drunk too much. It seemed a distinct possibility.

  ‘You flatter me, Charles,’ she laughed, trying to sweep the compliment aside. ‘But maybe if there is none so pretty there are many who will be richer, or more amusing. I am persuaded that your mama would rather you dance with them than with me.’

  It was completely the wrong thing for her to say. She realised it at once.

  ‘Damn my mother,’ he shouted, trying to lead her out once more by the simple expedient of tugging at her sleeve. ‘I dance to please myself, not my wretched mama.’

  Julia had been a little more in luck than her unfortunate cousin in that Edward Churchman, entering the room towards the end of the second dance, was able neatly to appropriate her and take her in to supper. Seeing Lydia and Charles they joined them at their table.

  ‘How are you enjoying yourself, Miss Barrington?’ asked Edward, directing an admiring glance towards the wondrous folds of Charles’ white cravat. ‘You must find our small-town balls quite provincial after the much more splendid events you will have been used to at home.’

  ‘Not at all,’ smiled Lydia, grateful for this opportunity to put off her next engagement with Charles. ‘You are quite mistaken, Captain Churchman. I was not often able to go to the assemblies at Bradbury, but they were nothing out of the ordinary, I can assure you. This ball is quite fine enough for me.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so. Certainly,’ with a smile for Julia, ‘I can find nothing amiss with it.’

  ‘Then your opinion shall hold sway on the matter.’

  ‘A natural decision – and a wise one. I am always pleased to hear my views seconded – it says a great deal for the intelligence of my acquaintance! Perhaps you would care to partner me in the next dance?’

  ‘I should be delighted, especially as you hold me in such high esteem. I am sure my cousin will excuse me – he has been stuck with me for most of the evening, I fear.’

  Even Charles was unable to hinder her from taking her place with Edward and it was with some relief that she spotted him disappearing into another room for a while. Lydia noticed a glimmer of satisfaction on the somewhat sharp face of Mrs Abdale as they passed her on the way into the ballroom. She could not deny herself a wicked sense of triumph at that good lady’s total misreading of the situation.

  ‘Branton is quite a favourite with me,’ Edward was saying. ‘I consider there to be a lot to be said for a local event – there is not the crush that you find in Town.’

  ‘I expect it is much more fun to meet up with all your acquaintance and enjoy a gossip than to be in a crowd of strangers and on your best behaviour all the time.’

  ‘Gossip? I shouldn’t have thought you a gossip, Miss Barrington. Surely you are quite above that sort of thing?’

  ‘And why should I not gossip? Neighbours are, after all, the most interesting creatures in the world after oneself, and if you are not to gossip about them how ever are you to find out what is going on?’

  ‘I’m sure you must be right. You must find Abdale very tedious, then, with just my family as neighbours.’

  ‘I hope you are not fishing for a compliment, sir. And what am I to say? Do I find you tedious, and not worthy of consideration, or do I find you interesting, and feed your evident vanity?’

  Edward had to acknowledge her dilemma. His own family, he conceded, was the most worthy of neighbourly interest of any he was acquainted with, with the exception of the residents of Abdale House. Whether or not he could approve of gossip, though, remained a little uncertain. Lydia was ready to tease him further about it but the dance took them apart for a while and the conversation dwindled until the music stopped. It was odd, but knowing that Edward had no serious intentions towards her made her feel a good deal easier in his company than she had done before. Despite her disapproval she decided to enjoy his friendship for what it was. After all, he was personable and amusing and she was not above enjoying the attention he paid her, even if it was designed for the benefit of somebody else. Why ruin what she had when there was no real harm being done?

  The dance over, and Edward returning to Julia’s side (Mrs Abdale having safely disappeared into the card room once again) Lydia was unable to put off her next dance with Charles. At a break in the set she took the opportunity to scan the room for the remainder of the Churchman party. At first she could see nothing of them but then, accompanied by a most pleasurable quickening of the heart which she did not care to comprehend, she saw Henry Churchman looking as immaculate and untouchable as ever, attending his partner at the far end of the room. She watched him for a moment. He was conversing easily with the young lady at his side, resting his hand on the back of her chair and bending forward slightly to hear her words better. His partner was very slim and very blonde, in a pale blue, almost transparent muslin gown. She was sipping a glass of lemonade, delicately, by the fire. Lydia screwed up her face. Delicate young ladies always incurred her scorn. It was disappointing that Mr Churchman seemed so totally absorbed by her.

  Her partner was alternating a somewhat laboured conversation with periods of concentration, the demands of the dance proving to be rather more than he had bargained for.

  ‘Lord, Lydia,’ he was complaining as she dragged her attention back to him. ‘Will this bit never end? I am all for dancing, god knows, but this set is so damned complicated I’ll be beggared if I can work out what to do.’

  ‘You need to concentrate a little more, Charles,’ was her reply. ‘You need only follow the couple ahead and all will be well.’

  ‘That’s easy enough for you to say. You are as good at dancing as you are at everything. I don’t know that there’s anything that you can’t do. Mind you, I shall beat you at something in my own good time – and when that time comes be certain I shall succeed. I shall enjoy beating you, damn you, and watching you squirm.’

  ‘But that is what you will never do. I should never be such a simpleton as to attempt to spar with you.’

  ‘I wish you would. I could get the better of you then.’

  The rest of the evening dragged on. She danced again with Edward Churchman, and once more with Captain Briggs, but she was already feeling tired, not being used to sitting up late at Abdale. Henry Churchman remained with his party the whole evening and Julia was in such demand that she was left dancing alone with Charles for much of the time. All she received was a somewhat formal, distant bow from him when he happened to look in her direction at the same moment that she was
looking in his. She berated herself for having expected far too much from the ball. What had she expected, after all? Certainly the whole affair had been sadly over-rated. She heard the clock strike midnight at last and on the whole she was not sorry to see Mrs Abdale emerging from the card room, happy to have won herself five shillings from an old adversary, and announcing that it was time to go home.

  Once back in the security of the carriage Lydia was able to muse in silence as her cousin chattered incessantly about the evening’s happenings. All had held a fascination for her. No detail had been missed.

  ‘Was not Miss Tyler-Jones in poor looks tonight, mama? I declare I scarcely recognised her. And what made her wear that lemon tulle gown with such huge feathers? I really cannot imagine what she was at. And as for Mrs Wright – did you notice Mrs Wright, mama? – she was seated at the fireside for the whole evening. I never saw her move all the time, apart from when she went for a dish of tea and then she wrapped herself around so much with that ugly great shawl of hers. I cannot abide that particular shade of green...’

  ‘I daresay she was feeling the cold, Julia. I have every sympathy with those who feel the cold, as I do. I am persuaded that no-one fully understands those who are ill as well as those of us who are perpetually ill ourselves.’

  A snore broke the silence in the carriage. Mrs Abdale prodded her first-born with the handle of her reticule.

  ‘And what partners did you have, Julia?’ she enquired, turning back to her daughter again and peering at her through the darkness.

  Julia hesitated.

  ‘I danced mainly with the officers, mama – there was a great number from the barracks tonight.’

  ‘And what of Mr Churchman – did he dance with you?’

  ‘Mr Churchman was with his own party all evening, I believe. He scarcely came near us all night.’

  ‘What is the good of all these visits and dinners if you are not to make an effort, Julia?’ snapped her mama in a most exasperated tone. ‘I thank the lord we are not to go to the expense of a London Season this year if you have not the sense to attach our nearest neighbour when he is there for the asking. I have warned you a number of times – young men are not to be had for nothing you know, Julia. You must really make more of an effort to secure his attention.’

  ‘It seemed that Mr Churchman had formed quite a large party, ma’am,’ put in Lydia, as the unfortunate Julia seemed (for once) at a loss for words. ‘He was scarcely able to acknowledge his other acquaintance in the room, being so taken up with his guests.’

  ‘And what is he doing, inviting young females to Grantham with my Julia available next door? Really, young people today – they exasperate me sometimes. Why, had Mr Abdale and I gone on in such a way we should never have got together at all – and then where should we be?’

  Fortunately Mrs Abdale appeared not to expect an answer to this observation and the journey home continued in peace, save for the rather noisy snores emanating from Charles’ corner of the landau (prompting some further vicious jabs from his gentle mama’s reticule) and Julia was able to breathe more easily again the nearer they got to Abdale House, and safety.

  Chapter 7Mrs Churchman had not been of the party at the ball but a little note arrived at Abdale the next day wishing them the compliments of the season and requesting the company of the whole family, including Lydia, at dinner on Christmas day. Other than the fact that Lydia was expressly included in the invitation Mrs Abdale was delighted, and penned her acceptance immediately. Invitations to Grantham were infrequent, and therefore valued. There was nothing Mrs Abdale liked better than to show off her finery, and her daughter, to her friends.

  Christmas morning arrived, cold and frosty, and the whole family drove across to Upnall church. Even Charles went with them, riding his black stallion alongside the carriage, although in Lydia’s mind it would have been better for him to have stayed in bed. Mrs Abdale, indeed, seemed less inclined to say her prayers than to show off her magnificent feathered bonnet and velvet cloak to the admiring locals, and nodding and smiling at the few favoured neighbours considered worthy of such attention (it was Christmas, after all) from her place in the Abdale family pew. By early afternoon they were out in the sunshine again, stamping their feet to wake them up after the chill of the church and waiting for the carriage to be brought back round.

  It was not long before it was time to start preparing for dinner. Mrs Abdale retired to her room immediately on returning to the house and Julia followed soon after. Charles, however, held back a little and by means of some successful manoeuvring managed to detain Lydia for a moment in the hall.

  ‘I will give you this, Miss Lydia,’ he muttered, thrusting an unexceptionable silver chain holding a single pink pearl into her hand. ‘I hope you will take it. I have had it this age – it is no good to me. I had thoughts that it would go with your hair. I am sure it will suit you...’

  His own embarrassment was matched only by that of his cousin. She scarcely knew where to look and for an instant had half a mind to return the pearl forthwith. But her hands had accepted it unwittingly and the pearl lay innocently enough in her palms. So decorum prevailed. After all, it would be best to accept the gift with as little fuss as possible rather than risk a squabble in front of the intrigued servants in the hall.

  ‘You are too kind, Charles,’ she murmured, wondering whatever could have induced him to offer her such an unexceptionable gift. ‘It will suit me perfectly, I am certain of it. I shall try it on this instant.’

  She scurried away, deftly managing to avoid Charles’ efforts to clasp the pearl round her neck himself, and made her way to Julia’s room where she had engaged to help her cousin decide what to wear. This was no easy matter. Julia’s wardrobe seemed limitless and it took a great deal of deliberation finally to reduce the choice to two gowns. Julia was inclined to favour an orange crepe creation, richly embroidered at the hem and with a low décolletage, which her mama had kindly bestowed on her that very day. Lydia privately thought it hideous and totally unsuitable for a country house dinner, and steered her cousin towards a more modest but much more becoming apricot silk, with matching spencer and gloves. Even with the choice reduced to two, however, the deliberations continued, almost putting Julia’s maid out of patience with them. Julia was torn between her own preference and her cousin’s. Certainly the apricot silk was very fashionable just now, but the silk had been worn before and the orange crepe had the advantage of novelty. After several false starts involving much trying on and parading regally before the long mirror in her room, and several changes of mind, she finally agreed with Lydia, and her maid, that the silk was the more appropriate for the occasion. It was a pretty gown, to be sure, and she had a feeling that Edward Churchman had once admired it; certainly he had told her that he was particularly fond of apricot.

  ‘Then the matter is settled, Julia. After all, why is it that we take such pains over our appearance if not to please our friends? The apricot gown it must be, and if Sarah will press it only a very little it will look absolutely perfect on you, that I can guarantee.’

  ‘And what shall you wear, Lydia?’ asked Julia, giving one last, hesitant glance to the orange crepe as the long suffering Sarah consigned it to the wardrobe and took the silk away.

  Lydia smiled wryly.

  ‘I fear my choice is a little more constrained than yours. I really only have two decent gowns and as one needs some little repair after its appearance at our dinner the other week I must ring the changes and wear my burgundy silk. It is only a couple of years old – it was the last garment I made before mama passed away – and since I turned the material on coming out of mourning it looks almost as good as new.’

  ‘La, Lydia, I am glad I am not such a dowd as you – though I suppose you cannot expect anything more. I really couldn’t live without a wardrobe full of pretty gowns – even though it can be difficult to choose between them at times.’

  ‘But that is where I have the advantage over you, Julia. Having so
little choice the decision is made in an instant. I am able to press the creases out myself and am still dressed before you are begun.’

  The only factor to spoil the prospect of a glorious evening was the presence of Charles, even more wonderfully adorned than usual in high starched collar, wondrous cravat tied in cascade fashion, and striped satin waistcoat. He seemed well pleased with himself, having spent almost two hours on the manufacture of his cravat alone, and was scarcely able to refrain from asking his cousin what she thought of it. He had sufficient sense to quell the urge, however, and satisfied himself with complimenting her instead. Indeed, having never seen Lydia in her burgundy silk before, he could scarcely tear his eyes away from the lustre of the fabric, and the soft gleam of his pearl as it lay elegantly around her neck.

  Mr Abdale, too, was to accompany them tonight but he appeared, much to his children’s indignation, in a decidedly old-fashioned full-skirted coat and knee-breeches, with a collar which had hardly been starched at all.

  ‘Lord, papa,’ pouted Julia. ‘How can you appear so decidedly out of date? I declare I am heartily ashamed of you...’

  ‘But what of you, Julia?’ broke in her mama, entering the saloon and spotting her daughter in an instant. ‘Why are you not wearing your new crepe gown? There will be quite a party at the Churchmans’ and I will not have my daughter looking any less grand than the rest.’

  Julia looked distinctly unhappy.

  ‘I thought about it for ever, mama. Lydia and I must have spent half an hour at the least in looking through the gowns before deciding on this one ... we thought it more suitable for the country.’

  ‘Lydia thought, I daresay. Well, I do not know that Lydia has any more taste than your mama. I had the orange crepe made especially to make an impression, Julia, and I shall not be thwarted by anything Lydia has to say. Why,’ she continued, regarding her niece down the long point of her nose (but thankfully failing to spot the necklace, due to the sweeping folds of Charles’ cravat partially masking her vision) ‘I cannot say that Lydia looks all that fine herself. Go and change your gown this instant, child, or I shall never buy you another one again.’