by Vanessa Gray
Lady Rothwell and Lydia returned home, leaving Sophy behind. Lydia was silent most of the way home, her head filled with fancies triggered by the beautiful fabrics and fashionable patterns she had seen in the hands of Miss Sinclair. Lydia’s fancy, often given full sway without regard to the realities of life, now presented her with even more satisfying vistas ahead.
Lydia could even see herself dancing with Sir Richard. She had a clear picture of Sir Richard begging her to waltz with him, and whirling her away in the dance that was only now accepted in London. It was her ineffable beauty, Sir Richard told her, in her fancy, that made him quite ready to forget the London belles that so far had filled his mind. She sighed heavily in complete happiness, and shut her eyes, the better to see Sir Richard’s adoring face.
Lady Rothwell’s head, on the other hand, was full of the subject that had engaged the major portion of her attention since Chloe, through a stroke of good fortune scarcely deserved, had come into money.
It would be a shame to let Chloe’s money, and the country establishment of Highmoor, go out of the family. There was only one way she could secure Chloe’s fortune to her family’s advantage and that was through Francis Hensley. Lady Rothwell was not afflicted with any sense of modesty or of possible failure. She could influence Chloe herself, and also through Francis. She needed Chloe’s help to launch Lydia, and, in a couple of years, Sophy, in London society. Lady Rothwell, as any good mother would, had a strong wish to see both her daughters well married and in their own establishments. It was significant, although she did not recognize it, that she considered Chloe’s future as already settled. Chloe was to marry Francis, provide the means for the London adventures, and at the same time stay close at hand to run Lady Rothwell’s household and perform the myriad small details of living at Rothwell Manor that Lady Rothwell chose not to do.
The day of the ball dawned, to everyone’s satisfaction, clear and fair. It gave promise of being a perfect day, and the moon would be at its brightest around midnight, when the party would expect to return home from Lady Partridge’s.
Chloe had, to Cook’s dismay, fallen by the wayside in pursuit of her duties in regulating the household.
As soon as Richard had given Chloe Byron’s epic, she had begun to dip into it an hour a day, and under the guidance of a stern conscience had put the book aside at times to follow her household schedule. But the day before the ball, while Lady Rothwell and her girls were in town, Chloe had sat over the book for two hours. It was slow reading, for she stopped at every line and allowed herself to visualize the poet’s depictions. Now, the morning of the ball, Bess had pressed Chloe’s dress and it hung waiting for her in the wardrobe. Her slippers were laid out, her mother’s pearls were on the dresser, her gloves, her little slippers to match the dress, her shawl ready to hand, to the accompaniment of comments by Bess.
Chloe, seized at last by an urge stronger than her duty, was engrossed in the wanderings of Childe Harold. To all of Bess’s remarks, Chloe turned a deaf ear. At length, Mrs. Field, puffing, climbed the back stairs and invaded Chloe’s room.
Chloe, her fingers still marking her place in the book, turned blank eyes on Cook. Returning to earth with a thud, Chloe said, “Oh, Mrs. Field. Is there something wrong? Your tooth bad again?”
“No, Miss Chloe, and that’s the least of my worries. The tooth is gone and I don’t feel where it was any more. But I must ask you, Miss Chloe, to tell me this. How many sandwiches will I need to lay out? Will Miss Sophy be staying on, and will some of the gentlemen be returning here?”
Cook’s duty was to keep those who had been regaled at a generous dinner, followed by light refreshments during the dancing, and no doubt a supper before starting home, from starving during the night.
“Cook, I can’t tell you. You might ask Lady Rothwell what her plans are.”
She was too civil to return to her book until Mrs. Field left the room, but she made no secret of the fact that she was anxious for Cook to leave. Cook stared at her blankly, struggling to believe what she had just heard, and departed.
Chloe, pushing her clear duty out of sight, returned to the pages of George Gordon, Lord Byron.
She wept over some lines, sighed over even more, and the morning fled very pleasurably. The Rothwell Manor party was invited to dinner at Lady Partridge’s, and they must leave by two o’clock to arrive in good time.
Chloe had no sense of time. Not until Lady Rothwell’s maid Ford, Chloe’s own maid Bess, and Lydia herself descended upon her, did she start guiltily and close the book. While Bess and Ford wrangled amiably over getting Chloe dressed, Lydia pirouetted before her half-sister and demanded admiration.
Chloe gave it ungrudgingly, for Lydia did look lovely. The cut of the blue gown was a little old for Lydia, but it did set off her beauty.
Lydia’s words came muffled as Bess dropped the gray gown over Chloe’s head and smoothed it around her shoulders. When Chloe emerged and Bess was settling the folds of the skirt, Lydia crossed to the dresser. “What are you going to wear, Chloe? Not your mother’s pearls?”
Chloe, her mind still with Lord Byron, said, “I don’t know what you mean?”
“I’d like to borrow them, for Mama has said no jewels for a country ball. She hasn’t anything that would go with this anyway, and I know that the pearls would be just right. They would give me something —” Lydia made a motion around her throat, which was in fact noticeably unadorned. The dress had been cut low enough to provide for a necklace — and at length, Chloe gave in. It did not matter — so Chloe thought — whether or not she made any kind of impression at the ball on people that she had known for a long time.
She helped Lydia fasten the pearls around her neck and agreed that they were just what the gown needed.
“Remember now, Lydia, these belonged to my mother, and I should not like anything to happen to them.”
Lydia said, lightly, “What could happen? They are around my neck, and that’s where they’ll stay.”
She dropped a butterfly kiss on Chloe’s cheek, and said, “Thanks, sister,” and hurried out.
Chloe looked up to find Bess’s disapproving regard on her, and said, “What else could I do?”
Bess said, “You could say you were going to wear them yourself, Miss Chloe, for now you have nothing to set off your own gown.”
Chloe said, “It doesn’t matter to me,” and then, mischievously, added, “As a matter of fact, I don’t want to appear too attractive to the gentlemen down from London.”
To herself she added, My legacy will provide all the attraction that they need.
The party from Rothwell Manor set out in mid-afternoon. Francis and Edward rode and the ladies traveled in the coach. There were coachmen and two grooms, all armed, and pistols in the saddles were ready at hand for Francis and Edward. Edward, making haste to dress, did not perfectly understand where Sophy was, but he saw that she was not traveling in the coach and dismissed her from his mind. His orders had been obeyed, and Sophy was not to appear at the ball. This was all that concerned him, and the carriage and its outriders set off down the drive and turned left at the gate. Passing Sir Richard’s gates, Lady Rothwell commented that they must beg Sir Richard’s company on the way home “lest highway men attack such a small party as we are,” she pointed out, and having thoroughly alarmed Lydia and the maid, sank back on the squabs and closed her eyes in sleep.
At length they arrived, and Lady Partridge greeted them warmly. As they entered the wide hall, they saw that other guests were before them. Sir Richard was already there, Squire Oswell and his lady, and Vicar Wakeley and his wife. Lady Partridge announced, “We’re going to partake of a joint before the fiddlers come. I suppose you ladies would like to go upstairs and freshen up after the ride, and you all know the way ...”
After dinner, and before the fiddlers had set up and the guests for the ball arrived, Francis asked Chloe to show him the conservatory. Chloe eyed him with dismay, and said, “Francis, I will not listen to a
nother offer.”
Francis, stiffly, said, “I shall not mention the question.”
Smiling sunnily on him, Chloe took his arm and together they moved across the salon into the conservatory.
It was quite a large construction. The thriving plants were newly watered and gave off a pleasant smell of fresh, wet earth. The sun came in at a slant, for it was late in the afternoon. Unfortunately, the rays emphasized the two figures at the far end of the conservatory.
Francis stiffened and allowed an exclamation of horror to pass his lips. At the far end he saw his young cousin Sophy, who everyone thought was back at the manor, and Emma, the daughter of the house. Chloe of course was not surprised, for she had understood Lady Rothwell’s ploy and truly saw no harm in it. Certainly it was not a great matter to have Sophy and Emma watch the ball. Even if Emma did attend, it was in her own house, and Sophy was planning — so Chloe understood — to watch from the first landing of the stairs.
Then, on closer examination, Chloe realized it was not Sophy’s presence that upset Francis to the point of rigidity.
Emma and Sophy were rehearsing their dance steps. Here in the conservatory, far from any watchful eye, they practiced the waltz — Francis was horrified.
Feeling his position as a member of the family, Francis strode purposefully toward them. “Stop it at once!” he cried out. “That’s indecent — you’re too young — never heard of such a thing!”
Francis’s usual inarticulateness came over him and his speech dissolved into mumbles. Sophy wailed, “Francis, you are so old-fashioned! The waltz is all the thing, you know!”
But Francis closed his ears. “It’s only the most daring that dance it now in London, and to see a child already so lost to propriety that she would sneak away and practice the waltz steps — it’s outside of enough!”
“What harm is there?”
Francis said, “All kinds of harm! You don’t want to be blackballed in society, do you? You’re just a child, and who knows what you’ll do by the time you get to London! My mother would have a spasm!”
Francis really looked alarmingly as though he were himself about to indulge in a spasm, for his cheeks were flushed and his eyes bulged.
But to Chloe’s surprise, Sophy burst into tears. She ran off, followed by Emma, leaving Francis and Chloe alone. “She’s only a child,” soothed Chloe, “and it is a childish prank. She is not going to do anything to ruin her chances in London ...” Chloe continued in this vein for some time, and finally persuaded him to re-enter the salon. Francis was now much calmer in his mind, and in fact felt that he had upheld the honor of the family. He was gratified at Sophy’s immediate capitulation. If Chloe could have read his mind, it would only have pointed out to her that Francis had not the slightest inkling of Sophy’s thoughts.
In the salon, she heard someone asking Richard about his recent trip to London. Richard, while perfectly civil, was somewhat evasive. Chloe refused to meet his eyes. She remembered the rumor that he was going to offer for Penelope Salton, and did not wish to hear Richard’s reply.
But the squire’s wife, Mrs. Oswell, cried, “May we hope to see a mistress at Davenant Hall soon?”
Richard, gravely said, “I shall not rule out that possibility.”
Chloe’s heart sank, and a pall fell over the evening for her.
The sound of carriage wheels came from without. The other guests were arriving, and soon the sound of fiddles tuning up announced the opening of the festivities. There was an air of excitement, stirring all the guests who had been there for dinner, and, with the arrival of the newcomers, the evening took on a gala air.
Richard, seeing Chloe and Francis return from the conservatory, eyed her carefully and was satisfied. Apparently Francis had not been a nuisance, or if he had, there was no trace of it on Chloe’s serene face.
Richard, as though drawn by a magnet that he could not resist, moved toward Chloe.
The arriving guests came up the stairs, and Thaddeus Invers was in the van. Edward, seeing him with relief, for he had the darkest opinion of Francis, hurried to greet him. After Thaddeus paid his respects to Lady Partridge, Edward, clearly impatient, led him toward Chloe. Richard, already near Chloe, saw her obvious distress. Richard, in Chloe’s ear, said, “Since Lady Partridge is not dancing, you are the lady of the first rank here, and therefore you have no choice but to accept me for the first dance.”
He smiled, that kind and winning smile that could turn her heart over, and often did, and she smiled gratefully back at him. Thaddeus Invers arrived too late.
20
Chloe’s dance with Richard was, she thought, as near heaven as she would ever reach. Their steps matched, and she could give herself up to sheer enjoyment.
Chloe danced well, as she was light on her feet and graceful as a willow.
Richard’s hand on her waist, leading her through the intricate steps, made her forget all but his nearness. She hardly noticed that she was not speaking until, gently, Richard teased, “One might think you had retreated in your thoughts to get through this dance.”
She smiled, then, but she could not recapture the joy of dancing with him. She recalled his successful trip to London. He had not denied that there would be a new mistress at Davenant Hall before long. The magic had gone out of the dance, and her steps faltered.
Just then, Julian Stoddard appeared in the doorway. He was late. While he looked around for his hostess, he was approached purposefully by Francis. From where Chloe stood she could see Francis arguing with Stoddard. It was clear that Francis’s words, however serious, had no effect on Stoddard.
Richard said, “What is the trouble? I did not step on your foot?”
“No, of course not.” But Richard had by his own actions put himself out of her reach, even as a Great Friend. She believed that life would never be the same after Richard brought his bride to Davenant Hall.
Richard cudgeled his brain to search out a reason for Chloe’s sudden distress, and asked whether or not Invers had been a nuisance. “For I know you have the same opinion of him as I do,” Richard commented.
Chloe said, almost snappishly, “At least he is eligible.”
Instantly she could have bitten her tongue. She had not intended to let her private feelings spill over.
Richard looked at her gravely, puzzled, and then turned to another partner.
The evening wore on, and she was more than popular. She never lacked for partners, and Edward, looking darkly at his half-sister, believed that the news of his sister’s legacy had spread.
Edward had a great affection for his sister and found no flaw in her, but it was clear she was experiencing an undue amount of attention this evening. Edward, intent upon keeping both Stoddard and Francis in their places, was moved reluctantly to sponsor Thaddeus Invers. He was the least of the evils.
Edward’s eyes strayed to Lydia. She moved from partner to partner, as fast as Chloe did, and with much apparent enjoyment. This was what life was all about, she thought. She was in a giddy whirl, knowing that she was pretty, and taking the compliments of her partners as only her due.
The music, with its steady rhythms, was intoxicating. The heady aroma of potted plants, brought in from the conservatory, perfumed the air. She paid no heed to any of the others on the floor, only looking at one faceless partner after another. But at length Julian Stoddard claimed her, and she knew the pinnacle of her evening had been reached. He was by far the most sophisticated man in the room, for he was well known in London. Lydia was aware that his reputation was not of the highest, but certainly he knew the best people, and he was wicked enough to be enticing. Lydia did not realize that Julian did nothing without purpose.
When he claimed her hand, her cup of self-esteem ran over. Julian gave her the compliment she demanded, and continued, “You would put all the London ladies to shame, for I vow I have never seen any one quite so enchanting as you.”
Lydia smiled upon him in the way that she fancied an acknowledged belle would d
o.
Julian was an accomplished flirt. “I marvel that any such attractive lady keeps herself hidden down here in Kent.”
“Oh, but we’re going to London!”
Julian allowed himself to exhibit pleasure. He gave Lydia the impression that she was his particular object in coming to Lady Partridge’s ball.
Soon he complimented her dancing and ventured upon a variation of a step, and was pleased to see that she followed him.
After a bit, he ventured, “Do you waltz?”
Lydia said, artlessly, “No, I’m not allowed to. But I long to learn the steps.”
Julian, pursuing his advantage, said, “Allow me to present an instructor. Myself.”
His eye began to rove, for his purpose went beyond flirting with Lydia. He tried to find the object of his quest, and hoped that he could soon take the next step in his campaign. Perhaps that would retrieve this incredibly dull party.
Lydia was aware that his attention had wandered and resented any diversion on his part. Julian, jerked back to the present, said, “When are you coming to London?”
“We’re going up in time for the Little Season. I swear I cannot wait.”
Julian smiled, allowing her to think that he too was anxious.
She said, “I so long to see the Prince Regent. You know him well, do you not?” Julian nodded. Feeling herself on the peak of the world, she added, daringly, “Will you dance with me at Almack’s?”
Ignoring the fact that he could not set foot inside the Wednesday assemblies at Almack’s, for he had been exiled by the sponsoring ladies, Stoddard promised lavishly, “You will not be able to get rid of me in London, I swear.” Then, he ventured, “Your sister will come to London, too?”
Lydia agreed that Chloe would in fact be with them.
Julian said, “I rather hoped she would not come.”
“Why?”
Julian explained. “She’ll keep you out of society until she has her fill of parties. That would be a great shame, for you are destined to be a great success. I had not thought your sister to be a jealous person, but I fear ...” he let his voice trail away, and Lydia anxious to reassure him, spoke on a note elevated above the music, “Oh no, Mama will not allow that! Mama says Chloe knows her duty to her family, and we do not need to fear that Chloe will be selfish. That’s how we can all go to London you know, because of Chloe’s fortune!”