‘Really, Jane, there are less obvious ways of drawing a gentleman’s attention,’ her mother had drawled when she reached her on top of the wall. Esther MacAndrews’ South Carolina accent tended to become more pronounced in proportion to the irony in her words. ‘Many would say that even showing an ankle is over-bold.’ If Jane was blushing now, at the time her face must have been bright scarlet.
‘And how is Mr Williams?’ her mother continued, and the pause was significant and quite deliberate. ‘And Captain Pringle as well, of course.’ Jane’s father had commanded the Grenadier Company of the 106th when Williams joined as a volunteer and Pringle and Hanley were subalterns. Both her parents liked the young men, and Mrs MacAndrews showed a particular benevolent amusement towards Williams, and was aware of much – if not quite all – of the volatile friendship between the Welshman and her daughter.
Jane’s mind wandered a little to this different cause for concern, but considerable uncertainty had always formed part of her feelings towards Williams and only rarely did that keep her from sleep. Her mother worried her far more at the moment.
Yesterday Mrs MacAndrews’ heart did not seem to be in the teasing, something in which she generally took such delight, and her manner as they walked was distant. Several times she repeated herself or answered a question different from the one her daughter had asked. It took concerted pressure to prise any explanation from her at all.
‘It is nothing, my dear, nothing at all. I had a shock, that is all.’ Very little in life ever disturbed Esther MacAndrews’ poise, and Jane could not remember anything shocking her mother.
‘Do not fret, Jane. It really is nothing,’ she said after further questioning. ‘I thought I saw someone I have not seen for many years.’ From the tone it was clearly not someone who evoked fond memories. ‘I was mistaken.’
Jane got no more, and by the evening her mother’s manner was closer to her usual ebullient self. Today she seemed fully recovered, and when Williams and Pringle called on them in the afternoon she joked with them and at their expense. Mrs MacAndrews was adept at baiting young men, and especially young officers, mixing boldness with pretended offence, always surprising them and keeping them off balance while narrowly remaining within the confines of polite society. Often incorrigible, she was also imperious.
‘We have invitations to a ball this evening and need escorts,’ she had announced suddenly. ‘As members of the regiment I shall expect you to fulfil the roles – and to do us proud.’ She subjected them to close scrutiny, even though Jane doubted she had missed anything about their appearance. Esther MacAndrews took a keen interest in clothes, without letting that interest rule her life, and Jane hoped that her own instincts were similar. ‘Sometimes the best of men can be derelict in the matter of applying polish to their boots.’
Both men had looked down, although in each case their Hessians were gleaming.
‘Not that that is a concern, since I trust you have shoes. However, Mr Williams, that jacket simply will not do. Do you have another?’
‘I regret to say no. At least none in better condition.’
‘You need a wife to look after you,’ Mrs MacAndrews said mischievously, darting a look at her daughter. ‘Well, that simply will not do if I am to be seen with you. You must borrow one of the major’s coats we have here in his trunk. What do you think, Jane, the blue one with the braid?’
Resistance was doomed, although the lieutenant made noises about not wanting to impose.
‘Nonsense, I shall not be disgraced.’ She eyed them both again. ‘Yes, I think you shall be my escort, Mr Williams. You are the taller of the two and I plan to wear my feathers.’
That had surprised Jane, which made her suspect that it was intended to do so. She was never quite sure whether her mother encouraged her to view Williams’ attempts to court her with kindness.
‘Good, that is settled,’ Esther said, not waiting for anyone to express a view. ‘Yes, and if memory serves, you dance as ill as the major, Mr Williams, so that will be all the more fitting. Unless you have had time for some lessons?’
‘I regret not.’
‘Hmm, as I suspected. MacAndrews has consistently found excuses. You soldiers are all alike.’
The gentlemen returned at seven, Williams obediently wearing the blue jacket produced earlier by their maid. Jane’s father was a tall, lanky man, less big about the shoulders and chest than the lieutenant. Williams had managed to fasten the top two brass buttons on the jacket, but given up all attempts at the remaining seven. Instead he had borrowed a respectable grey waistcoat from Hanley.
‘You will do, I suppose,’ Mrs MacAndrews decided, ‘and at least I shall not loom over you.’ Jane’s mother was five foot ten inches tall, and even in her forty-fifth year was a strikingly handsome woman, her hair still raven black, nature requiring only the slightest assistance to maintain the shade. Her gown was green, a deeper shade than the gloves and the turban topped with tall peacock feathers. Mrs MacAndrews would most certainly have loomed over a man even of average height.
It was something of a mystery how two such tall parents had produced their diminutive daughter. Jane sometimes wondered whether her siblings would have been more like her parents in stature, but neither of the brothers nor her sister had survived infancy. It was a sorrow which she knew hung over her parents’ lives, and yet they had never let it burden her, nor did she feel that they had indulged her. A life of following the drum gave little scope for indulgence.
This evening Jane had decided to adopt some of the local fashions. It began with shoes, higher heeled than would be fashionable in England and just made for her a few days ago. She hoped that the leather was as soft as it appeared and that they would not prove too stiff over the course of the evening. Her gown was from London, short sleeved and made from turquoise silk. It had a high waist, something that did not seem to be common here, and a generous, even daring neckline. The sun had nearly gone down, and she relied on gloves reaching above her elbow for protection from its last rays. She had spent some time practising with a newly bought black mantilla, trying to perfect the graceful gestures of the women of Cadiz as they adjusted this combination of head covering and shawl. Unlike her mother, she had taken the unusual step of wearing her hair down, since this again seemed the Spanish preference. The maid they had hired in the city had proved a great help.
‘You see that we have among us the perfect Iberian contessa,’ her mother said. ‘There, is our ‘Juanita MacAndrews’ not magnificent? Or is that too stiff a question for you gentlemen?’
Pringle looked surprised, and Williams guilty at that, while Jane struggled not to show that she thought she understood her mother’s meaning. She worried that some witticism would follow concerning her embarrassing misfortune yesterday, so that it was a great relief that instead Esther hurried them out.
‘I do not care to be later than politeness demands,’ she said.
The ball was a grand affair given by a member of the Regency Council, and the hundreds of guests were packed into a great hall and surrounding rooms. It quickly became stuffy in the extreme, and they all drank a good deal of the iced lime juice proffered by the liveried servants. The hall was a blaze of colour, lit by thousands of candles in heavy chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Whites, reds, blues, yellows and greens all stood out, almost in highlight from the black of the ladies’ dresses. Within minutes of arriving Jane counted eight Spanish generals resplendent in gold-laced blue uniforms, two bishops in black and red, and a good few splendidly dressed fellows surrounded by such obvious deference to mark them out as some of the Regency Council or other men aspiring to power.
Lieutenant General Graham was there, and came to pay his respects as soon as he was free. It was he who had provided Jane’s mother with the invitations.
‘I first met this lady when she rode with General Moore’s staff in Spain,’ the general explained to one of his ADCs as the introductions were made. ‘You would not have believed it, cool as anythin
g, elegant as anything, calming her horse as French shot ploughed up the ground. I tell you this, if the world knew that such beauty could be seen in battle, then we would no longer struggle to recruit for the army!’
The general had a long face and a forceful nose. At sixty-one he remained full of vigour, and only hair more grey than brown, some slight thickening around the neck and chin, and an increased prominence of his ears betrayed any signs of age.
‘And Miss MacAndrews, this is truly a great delight. Scottish father,’ he confided to the staff officer, ‘do you see, and so such radiance is understandable. To meet such ladies makes me regret that I am not a good deal younger.’
‘I am sure that if you were, then both our hearts would be in peril, General,’ Mrs MacAndrews said. ‘Is that not so, Jane?’
‘Indeed, Mama.’ Jane curtsied, prompting Graham to bow. The general showed obvious pleasure at the compliment, and the flirtation continued for a while, before he recognised Williams.
‘I believe we have met before, Mr …?’ Unable to discern rank since there were no insignia on the blue jacket, the general turned the statement into a question.
‘Lieutenant Williams, sir. One Hundred and Sixth. And may I present Captain Pringle.’
Lieutenant General Graham broke into a smile. ‘Of course, of course. Though I believe you were Ensign Williams when we met.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Yes, indeed. That was back with Moore as well,’ Graham explained to his staff. ‘This young fellow gathered a few dozen stragglers and stopped the French from taking the one bridge leading around our flank. That was fine soldiering, sir, fine soldiering indeed. Moore thought so, and you cannot give higher praise than that. Aye,’ he added, the memories returning. ‘Of course, you were with him when he fell.’ It may have been the flickering candlelight, but Jane thought the general’s eyes were moist.
‘Are you officers on your way to join your regiment at Gibraltar?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Pringle said. ‘Although we have lately been sent to Granada.’
‘Oh.’ Graham nodded. ‘Keats has got his claws into you, has he? Well then, we shall have to see what we can do. And you too, madam? Have you had any more luck in finding passage to Gibraltar and your husband?’
‘Regretfully not, General.’
General Graham’s gaze flicked past the ladies. ‘Ah, then I believe here is someone who may be able to help. May I present to you Major General Lord Turney, who is soon to return to Gibraltar. Lord Turney, may I name …’ Graham began his introduction with the ladies.
Jane turned to see the dignified if distant smile of the major general grow swiftly into something far warmer. Lord Turney was finely dressed, his red coat and white breeches exquisitely cut to flatter his graceful frame. His back could have been no straighter without danger of snapping, his stride was determined and manly, and yet still with a delicacy appropriate for the ballroom.
‘An honour, my dear ladies, a great honour indeed. Such fine English beauty shines out all the more in this company.’
Jane thought that a strange compliment, offensive surely to the Spanish ladies, several of whom and their escorts were within earshot even over the hubbub of conversation. It also carried an implication that she and her mother would be less conspicuous in London.
‘I believe that Lord Turney and I have met before.’ Jane was surprised at her mother’s tone. This was not banter or flirtation, but had a genuine hard edge.
‘Surely not, ma’am,’ Turney said, offering another slight bow. ‘It is impossible that I could ever forget so fair a lady.’
‘Only a fool could do that,’ General Graham agreed. ‘Still, are you a fool, Lord Turney?’ His tone was light, though a little forced. Jane wondered whether the older man had any high opinion of the other. The difference in age between the two was less than she had thought. Turney must at least be as old as her own father. That made his close inspection of her somewhat less flattering. He did not cross the bounds of convention, but Lord Turney’s steady consideration of her face and figure was not so discreet that she – or indeed any woman of sense – would not be aware of it. That was surely deliberate, but then the thought was driven from her head.
Mrs MacAndrews was biting her lip. It was a gesture Jane had worked hard to stop herself from doing when worried, and she had never before seen her mother do it. Williams looked uncomfortable, and she noticed that his arm was being squeezed with considerable ferocity.
‘Indeed, sir.’ Esther spoke with a hard edge to her voice. ‘Indeed, and I recollect that it is not the first time your memory has failed.’ She took a deep breath. Jane watched Lord Turney closely, baffled by the scene and her mother’s cold anger. Did his eyes flicker, recognition and perhaps something else betrayed for an instant before the elegant calm was restored?
‘If so, then you have my sincere apologies.’ Lord Turney bowed very low this time, and reached out his hand to confirm the apology.
Esther MacAndrews did not even glance at it. ‘Jane, I am not feeling well. It is the heat. We must retire to somewhere cooler and more open. Will you excuse us, General,’ she made a slight knee to Graham, ‘gentlemen?’
‘Of course, of course.’ The general sounded a little confused, but more concerned for their health. ‘Of course, you must go. Goodnight, Mrs MacAndrews, Miss MacAndrews.’
Her mother led the way, Williams’ arm still held in a vice-like grip, half dragging the big man through the crowd. They went through a long side room and out into one of the gardens, where lanterns hung from the branches of trees to light the tables and pavilions. There were plenty of people there, but the press was less close, even though no breeze stirred the night air. The gentlemen were sent to fetch drinks. ‘I need something stronger than juice,’ her mother said. ‘So let Pringle choose it as I believe he is the better judge.’
Jane tried without success to draw her mother into discussion of the hanging baskets of flowers. The matter of the silk drapes on the pavilions similarly failed to excite her interest.
‘Damn him, damn him for making me angry.’ The words were whispered so softly that Jane barely heard them. She doubted her mother was aware that she had spoken aloud.
Hoping to lighten the mood she instead considered the passers-by. ‘That is an uncommonly tall lady over there with the scarlet gloves,’ she said, ‘and especially since her escort is so small.’ The gentleman wore a yellow velvet coat and high powdered wig, but still was dwarfed by his companion.
‘The one in the dress is a man, Jane,’ her mother said flatly. ‘It is the lady in the wig.’
‘Lady seems over-generous,’ she replied, and now could not understand how she had missed the signs.
‘Festivals here are a curious affair.’ Esther MacAndrews did not sound interested, and when the gentlemen returned she emptied the glass quickly and then announced that Pringle must escort her home. The latter was flustered before this, and Jane had the malicious thought that the captain may have begun to attend a ‘lady’ only to discover that it was in fact a man. Billy Pringle was very ready in his affections towards the fair sex, and Jane did not think less of him for that.
‘We should all leave,’ Jane declared.
‘No, we should not. I do not feel well, but you should enjoy yourself, my dear, and take the chance to dance.’ Her mother was adamant and not to be shifted. The deft exchange of escorts was equally irresistible. ‘Williams will take good care of you. If he does not, then I shall have him shot!’ The joke was weak and not delivered with any enthusiasm.
Williams and she wandered, heading towards the sounds of music. Nowhere could they find any sets being danced, and the boleros and fandangos were certainly beyond Williams’ capacities. Jane wanted to learn these dances, but had only had the chance for some basic tuition, and at present was more eager to practise her singing and playing. Both had come on considerably during the year they had spent in England.
In one of the bigger pavilions they found an orchestra playi
ng waltzes. There were considerably more British and other foreigners there, and although many Spanish ladies were drawn on to the floor, over time Jane noticed that few returned more than once. A dance where the partners held each other so closely was no doubt scandalous to those unused to such innovations. She danced twice with Williams, who had declared that he knew the steps. This was true, at least of the essentials, and he seemed less awkward than when they had first stepped out together two years before. Yet there was also a reserve about him, not she felt from shyness, but something else that was new. Both his conversation and his manner stopped a little short of the intimacy she had come to expect.
Jane also danced with a captain of the Foot Guards who had travelled out with them on the same vessel, and through him two of his fellow officers. They were all competent and charming, although none showed any unusual wit. Williams said something about that being only to be expected when she mentioned this to him.
‘If you are not already engaged, then may I crave the honour of a dance, Miss MacAndrews.’ Lord Turney appeared from nowhere, his manner so courteous that she had accepted before realising who it was. It was still an honour to be asked by such a senior guest, but she could not help wishing that it had been General Graham instead.
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