by Lucy Muir
“Good day, Miss Stillington-Fyfe,” Catherine bade her guest. As the young woman hurried through the misty rain to her carriage, Catherine mused over the additional information she had learned about the Marquess of Edgecombe. His interest in gardens was specific to roses—that was fortunate. He had many fine paintings in addition to his collections of porcelain and glass—her knowledge of artists and art was limited but she could repair her deficiency of knowledge. But although she was learning a little about the marquess through gossip, she would have to wait for his arrival to learn specifics about Lord Edgecombe’s character.
Chapter Four
“You must forgive my coming at such a time, Catherine, but I knew you would wish me to inform you at once: I have seen the Marquess of Edgecombe!” Sarah gushed in breathless apology as she entered Catherine’s dressing room without ceremony early one mid-August afternoon.
Catherine, who was in the process of dressing with her maid Flora’s help, turned abruptly to face her visitor, pulling the stay strings from the maid’s hands. “When? Where?” she demanded of her friend.
“In town late this morning, as I was coming out of the haberdashers. He was in company with Lord Ellsworth, who performed the introduction.”
“Tell me at once, Sarah,” Catherine commanded as her maid recaptured the stay strings and finished lacing the stays over Catherine’s pink chemise. “What is his appearance? His manner?”
“In appearance he is of a good height, as tall as Lord Woodforde I believe, and his eyes brown. I could not discern the color of his hair as it was powdered fairly heavily, but I would suspect dark. He was wearing a frock coat, plain waistcoat of the new style cut straight across at waist-length, and riding breeches; all as one might expect for the country, but very fine.”
“His manner?” Catherine pressed. “It is most important I know his manner.”
“Gentlemanly,” Sarah replied, “but although courteous, I found it a bit lacking in warmth. In truth, I had the feeling that had I been more than a mere squire’s wife it might have been warmer. But I may be misjudging him,” she allowed.
“Did you learn anything more? Anything of his likes and dislikes?” Catherine pressed her friend as Flora helped her into her bodice and skirt. “The information you heard before was useful, but gossip may be in error. Did he appear all he is rumoured to be?”
“It was only a chance meeting on the street,” Sarah protested, taking a chair while the maid finished dressing Catherine. “But I did learn he will be attending the ball at the assembly rooms in Moreton three days hence.”
“That is of all things wonderful!” Catherine responded. “I cannot fail to be presented to him there, and if my appearance is pleasing he may take notice of me, at least. How fortunate I ordered my new gowns in June when I first read of his intended visit!
“It is a pity the master of the Moreton assembly rooms continues the custom of requiring a person to retain the same partner for the whole evening,” Catherine continued, sighing, as the maid brushed her mistress’s hair. “For no doubt it will be Miss Louisa Ellsworth who will be his partner for the entire evening. I wish the master would allow changes of dance partner as is the new French custom.”
“Now that the marquess has arrived there will be many dinners and other entertainments where you may have the opportunity to be his partner, or at least to converse,” Sarah consoled her friend as the last touches were made to Catherine’s toilette. “You will be able to decide upon his character for yourself.”
“Yes, but the sooner I know his character the sooner I may know how to attach his interest,” Catherine pointed out as she rose and checked her reflection in the cheval glass. “You must stay to dinner, Sarah,” Catherine urged. “Papa is always pleased when you are able to dine with us.”
“Thank you, but I must hurry home,” Sarah refused, rising from her chair. “The squire is expecting me for dinner. I only came to tell you the news, as I knew you would be desirous of hearing it as soon as possible.”
“I was indeed,” Catherine said, embracing her friend. “Thank you for bringing me the news so quickly.”
“How is your hare?” Sarah asked as she and Catherine descended the stairs together.
“He has mended quite well. I am keeping him in the walled garden for now, although when it becomes cold I shall move him inside. Lord Woodforde is constructing a wooden dwelling for him.”
“Has he become tame?”
“Not entirely, but he comes up to take carrots and fruits from my hand. Woodforde sends fruit from his conservatory and the hare loves them so I am able to tempt him to approach me. He enjoys eating all the fruits I have offered, but peaches and grapes are his favourites.”
““That is kind of Lord Woodforde. I do believe your hare dines more sumptuously than Squire Turner and I,” Sarah laughed.
“Catherine,” she continued as the friends neared the front hall. “Do you not think that Lady Woodforde’s passing was long enough ago that Lord Woodforde might truly consider you as a possible wife? I know you believe his offers to be jests, but are you certain that they are? If you are indeed determined upon having your own establishment, it would be simpler, I would think, to accept a man you know well than to attempt to engage the interest of a man about whom you truly know nothing.”
“You and Lady Manning are of the same mind,” Catherine sighed, coming to a halt in the black and white tiled entrance hall. “I do sometimes feel that Woodforde might marry that his daughter need not be away at boarding school most of the year, but I would not wish to marry any man simply to be a mother to his daughter. And even should Woodforde’s offers be sincere, I should find it impossible to live up to Lady Woodforde’s memory. If you recall, even Mr. Ellsworth commented upon the marquess’ continuing devotion to her. She had so excellent a character and was far more accomplished than I.”
“Say rather she was accomplished in different things,” Sarah countered. “I asked because Lord Woodforde’s kindnesses to you—and even to your hare—are so very marked. And there has always been, well, a general expectation of you and Woodforde making a match of it someday, given the number of times he escorts you and Lady Manning to assemblies and other gatherings.”
“Sarah, you are making much out of nothing,” Catherine scolded her friend. “You know Woodforde has been our neighbor all our lives, as you have been. He is kind to us all, and escorts Lady Manning and myself because my father has so little interest in most social events. I hope there is not gossip of an attachment between us in Moreton. If you hear such talk please counter it; Lord Woodforde sees me as a sister, no more, and at times a rather plaguey one at that.”
The Moreton assembly rooms were especially crowded that Thursday night, for all the inhabitants in and around the town wished to meet Lord Edgecombe and pronounce their verdicts upon him. Lord Trevor, who preferred not to leave the comforts of his home unless it was unavoidable, was the exception, remaining at Rosemont and leaving Lady Manning and his daughter to the care and escort of Lord Woodforde.
Catherine had dressed with particular care for the assembly, knowing the first impression she made upon the marquess would be the most important and lasting. She had chosen one of her new gowns, a pale peach silk that billowed, shimmering, over several petticoats, for although the master of the rooms no longer required wearing hoops, he did require that skirts be exceedingly full and had been known to refuse admittance to those ladies whose skirts did not meet his approval. Fine ivory lace fell over Catherine’s hands from the three-quarter sleeves and more spilled over her light-fitting bodice. A light sprinkling of powder dusted her hair, and Catherine’s favorite fan hung at her wrist, completing the look of stylish elegance. Surely the marquess must take notice her, Catherine thought as they entered the assembly hall.
As Catherine and Lady Manning searched for three empty chairs, Catherine’s eyes scanned the crowded rooms for the Ellsworths, hoping she would be noticed and presented to the marquess before the dancing began.
She did not see Lord and Lady Ellsworth, but as Catherine moved slowly through the crowded room toward the opposite wall, she spied young Mr. Ellsworth coming toward her party and gave an inward groan. Why did Mr. Ellsworth persist in his attentions to her when she gave him no encouragement? Being seen with a macaroni such as Mr. Ellsworth would not enhance her own reputation! As usual, the young gentleman was dressed in the exaggerated Italian fashion with rouged cheeks, ornate waistcoat, and brightly-colored silk coat and knee breeches. He sported an elaborately-tied cravat around his neck rather than the simpler stock favoured by most gentlemen, and carried a large ornately-decorated fan. Large bows topped with paste diamonds adorned his shoe buckles.
“Demme if it an’t Woodforde,” the exquisite gentleman drawled, coming up to Catherine’s party and making an elegant bow. “Lud! How is it you always have the luck of escorting the most attractive ladies, Woodforde? Lady Manning, Miss Trevor, I am enchanted to see you in such health and looks this evening.”
“You are most gracious, Mr. Ellsworth,” Lady Manning replied.
“You are looking especially fine this evening, Miss Trevor,” Lord Ellsworth added, giving Catherine a searching look that took in every detail of her dress.
“Thank you, Mr. Ellsworth,” Catherine replied, not certain if the compliment from the young macaroni boded well for her appearance or not. “You are in exceptional looks yourself this evening.”
The young man preened at her comment, taking it for admiration. “But come, you must meet our guest,” he added, taking Lady Manning’s arm and leading them through the crowd to where his father, sisters, and the marquess stood in the center of a large group of people.
“Lord Edgecombe, may I present our neighbors Lord Woodforde of Woodforde Park, and Lady Manning and Miss Trevor of Rosemont.”
Catherine made her most graceful curtsey. As the marquess spoke of his pleasure in the introductions, Catherine was relieved to see that Lord Edgecombe had observed the rules of precedence in his choice of partner for the evening; his companion was Lord Ellsworth’s eldest daughter, Miss Ellsworth, and not the younger Miss Louisa Ellsworth. Miss Ellsworth had long indicated that she had no desire to marry after the death of her betrothed in the fighting during the revolt, and Catherine did not fear her competition for the marquess’ favours as she did that of Miss Ellsworth’s younger sister, Louisa.
“Miss Trevor,” the marquess addressed Catherine after making his compliments to Lady Manning, “I see by your headdress you will be dancing the minuet. It is of all dances the most elegant. I am convinced you perform it with great finesse, and I shall look forward to observing you this evening.”
Catherine’s euphoria vanished. Although she was skilled in the country dances, her competence at the minuet was only tolerable, just enough to get her through the steps, and she certainly lacked the elegance and assurance of those who performed the minuet in the most admired style.
“Thank you Lord Edgecombe,” she replied, unwilling to confess her lack of skill to the marquess when he had just told her of his admiration for a well-danced minuet. “I had indeed intended to dance, but I had the misfortune to turn my ankle while alighting from our carriage and will be unable to this evening,” she finished mendaciously, knowing she was condemning both herself and Lord Woodforde—as her partner—to an evening on the sidelines.
“Ah, I am sorry to hear of your mishap, Miss Trevor,” the marquess said sympathetically as he took an elegant snuffbox from his pocket and flicked it open with one hand while he took a pinch with the other. “But you may still enjoy the card rooms. Card playing is second only to dancing as an evening’s amusement, do you not find it so, Miss Trevor? I am a devotee of whist myself. One has so many opportunities to apply scientific principles to one’s play.”
Catherine’s mind raced. In truth she was as lackluster a card player as she was a minuet performer. She had never had the patience to learn the niceties of whist such as when to lead with small cards or when to allow one’s partner the opportunity of taking the first trick. Her mind raced through the other card games, trying to think of one she could claim competence in with some measure of truth.
“I am a devotee of vingt-un myself, Lord Edgecombe,” she essayed, uncomfortably aware of the rise of Miss Ellsworth’s eyebrows as she made the claim, and Catherine doubted Miss Ellsworth had forgotten her protest at Lord Woodforde’s dinner only days ago that she knew no card games well. “I find the subtleties of such a deceptively simple game most intriguing.”
Lord Edgecombe’s brown eyes gleamed with interest. “I am in most hearty agreement, Miss Trevor. It is not every player who appreciates those subtleties. I shall look forward to an opportunity of pitting my skill against yours.”
Fortunately for Catherine’s composure, other guests waiting to be introduced to the marquess demanded Lord Ellsworth’s attention, and as Lord Edgecombe attended to an introduction, the two parties separated.
“I know you are anxious to play vingt-un, Miss Trevor, but please allow me to settle Lady Manning before we repair to the card room,” Lord Woodforde said in an undertone to Catherine as they made their way to the plain wooden chairs lining the walls of the assembly ballroom.
“That is not necessary,” Catherine replied. “I shall sit with my aunt and watch the others dance.”
“My apologies,” Woodforde replied, his countenance bland. “I had forgotten your ankle. Allow me to make haste and find you a seat as I am certain it is painful for you to stand. It has been most intrepid of you to make the effort to walk without a limp.”
“One must make sacrifices for one’s companions,” Catherine contented herself with responding as Lord Woodforde found empty chairs and settled his charges into them. “I would not draw attention to my discomfort.”
“Catherine!” Lady Manning admonished niece in low tones, “fibbing has not heretofore been one of your failings; I am ashamed of you!”
Catherine’s cheeks flushed delicately as Lord Woodforde added to the dressing-down.
“Your excuse was successful this evening, Miss Trevor, but what will you do the next assembly? You cannot claim a turned ankle at every ball for the next two or three months.”
“No. The next one I shall dance the minuet, and well,” Catherine responded as she settled onto the chair and gracefully spread her skirts. “You will teach me.”
“Catherine! Lord Woodforde is not a dancing master!” Lady Manning reproved her niece, her sharp hearing catching the words from her position on Catherine’s other side. She unfurled her fan to hide her frown at her niece from passers-by. “Do not impose so upon Lord Woodforde’s good nature and friendship.”
“You will instruct me, will you not, Lord Woodforde?” Catherine pleaded, disregarding her aunt’s chastisement. “You and Lady Woodforde were admired everywhere for the perfection of your minuet. You must teach me; for I must gain Lord Edgecombe’s interest and it is evident he admires the minuet. If only he were an admirer of country dances I might pass by my own skills, but I have never had the patience to learn the minuet well. You did promise to aid me in engaging Lord Edgecombe’s interest.”
Lord Woodforde looked at Catherine with an enigmatic expression. “I believe I engaged to pass along any information I heard about the marquess, not to act as your tutor and aid you in attaching Lord Edgecombe’s interest,” he corrected.
“But you will, nonetheless, will you not?” Catherine pleaded again. Lord Woodforde made no immediate response, and as the moments passed Catherine began to despair of his agreement.
“I suppose you also wish to learn the intricacies of vingt-un?” Woodforde enquired in resigned tones when Catherine’s suspense had reached an almost unbearable pitch.
Relief flooded through Catherine. “You do play, do you not?”
“Yes. Very well, I shall do as you wish. But only if you engage to meet my requirements,” Lord Woodforde qualified with a severe look.
“Of course I shall, what are they?” Catherine asked, re
ady to promise anything.
“The ball at Ellsworth Hall is only a sen’night away. You have one week in which to learn the niceties of a dance it usually takes six months to master. You will be at Woodforde Park every day for the next six days promptly at eleven, prepared for three hours instruction. Should you fail to attend to me properly, or fail to appear on even one of those days, I shall consider myself released from any obligation.”
“I accept,” Catherine agreed, her heart feeling light once again at the promise of Lord Woodforde’s tutelage in the minuet and vingt-un. With skill in a dance and a game Lord Edgecombe admired, she would soon be in a position to attract his notice!
Catherine arrived at Woodforde Park on her horse, Damask, a good half-hour early for her first lessons the next day, carrying her shoes in a cloth bag. A groom helped her down from her sidesaddle and Catherine ascended the wide steps leading to the entrance hall of Woodforde Park. A footman opened the doors and ushered her to the large drawing room where Lord Woodforde and his housekeeper, Mrs. Andrews, waited. The smaller drawing room carpet had already been rolled up and put to the side, and immediately upon Catherine’s entrance the housekeeper rose and walked to the harpsichord, seating herself before the keyboard of the instrument with assurance.
“Andrews has consented to be taken away from her usual duties and play for us during the lessons,” Woodforde elucidated.
Catherine nodded to the housekeeper. She had not thought of their need for music. “Thank you, Andrews,” she said aloud, wanting the housekeeper to know she appreciated that playing music was a favor outside her usual duties.
“First I shall wish to see you execute the basic steps,” Lord Woodforde said as Catherine sat down and exchanged her riding boots for her curved-heel evening slippers. “Andrews will play and you will go through the steps without a partner. We shall not concern ourselves with the beginning honours at this point.”