by Lucy Muir
“No matter,” Woodforde said as the groom brought his mount forward. “I am certain I shall be able to think of a young woman myself should I decide to heed your advice, Miss Trevor.” He mounted his horse with graceful ease, and with a last salutation to Catherine, rode down the avenue.
As Catherine looked after her neighbor, she suddenly wished she had not broached the last subject, even to goad him in return for his teasing. It struck her that should he truly develop an interest in another woman with marriage as his end, he would no longer enjoy so easy an intercourse with her own family, and the thought was surprisingly unpleasant. Until that moment, she had not realized how very much she depended upon his friendship.
“Lady Manning, good evening. Catherine, thank you for indulging the squire and taking the trouble of bringing your harp,” Sarah welcomed Lady Manning and Catherine when they entered the hall of Moreton Manor that evening.
“I am happy to bring it and I assure you I enjoy Squire Turner’s musical evenings quite as much as he,” Catherine assured her friend as two servants, who had managed to carry the harp from the carriage without mishap, placed the instrument on the drawing room floor.
Unlikely as it appeared to those who only knew him on the field, Squire Turner was not only extremely fond of music, but a skilled performer on his violin. Nothing relaxed him after a hard day’s ride to the hunt so much as an evening of music, and occasionally he would feel moved to gather his acquaintances with musical talent together at Moreton Manor for an evening of good food and well-performed music.
“I trust the Ellsworths and their guest were invited?” Catherine added, sure that her friend would have included them for her sake, although only Miss Louisa Ellsworth displayed any real musical talent.
“Yes, so you have not worn your ivory satin gown for naught,” Sarah laughed.
“I did think before wearing it again, since I wore it to the Ellsworth’s ball,” Catherine confessed shamefaced, “but knew none other would look as well on my figure, sitting behind my harp.”
“How do you fare in your efforts to attach the interest of the marquess thus far?” Sarah asked her friend as she surveyed the drawing room to see if all was ready for the evening.
“Well enough, I trust, although it is taking more time than I had hoped.”
“Time that might be better spent attending to household affairs or engaging the interest of a worthy gentleman such as Lord Woodforde,” Lady Manning observed tartly as she followed her niece into the Turner’s drawing room.
“My aunt has taken an unreasoning dislike to Lord Edgecombe,” Catherine explained to Sarah, “although I cannot collect why she has done so.”
“It is not that I have taken a dislike to Lord Edgecombe; it would be unjust of me to do so upon so short an acquaintance,” Lady Manning elucidated. “He has a fine enough figure and a courteous address. But I deplore my niece’s casual dismissal of a much finer eligible gentleman. Why is it that the young are so often tempted away by that which is novel and fail to recognize the value of that which has proven worth through time?”
Luckily for Catherine, Sarah’s mother, Lady Ashe, entered the room at that moment and bore her old friend away to read a story to Sarah’s children before they were settled for the night.
“Lady Manning will persist in feeling I should wed Lord Woodforde,” Catherine explained as her aunt left the room. “She thinks my efforts to gain Lord Edgecombe’s interest folly.”
“I am certain she only thinks that because she knows Lord Woodforde’s character, while Lord Edgecombe’s is yet unknown,” Sarah defended the older woman. “It is natural she should wish you to have an honorable gentleman as your husband.
“Not that Lord Edgecombe is not honorable,” she added quickly, “for I am certain he is. Have you seen him since the dinner at Rosemont?”
“No,” Catherine admitted. “But I am hopeful he will be attentive at the assembly rooms this week. He did ask me to partner him for that evening, although I have told myself not to depend upon it, given he is a guest at the Ellsworth’s.”
“With the master of the assembly rooms insisting on following the old custom of keeping the same dance partner for the entire evening, I would agree it is most likely he will choose Miss Ellsworth or Miss Louisa Ellsworth,” Sarah admitted. “Courtesy to his hosts would almost require it.”
“Yes, but I am hoping I may still attract his notice in the card rooms,” Catherine explained. “He and Louisa may choose to play, and if they do there is nothing to prevent my joining the game.”
“You have never liked cards,” Sarah objected, “and whist players can be very impatient with those who do not play as well as themselves, especially if they are partnered with them.”
“I intend to play vingt-un. I had some knowledge of it before, and Lord Woodforde has since explained some of the finer points of play to me.”
“Take care you do not get in too deep,” Sarah warned.
“I shall withdraw if the play goes beyond my means,” Catherine assured her friend.
“Catherine,” Sarah said slowly. “Are you still certain Lord Edgecombe is the gentleman you wish to marry? Do you find him a person you can admire, now that you have met him and spent some time conversing with him?”
“To admire?” Catherine thought a moment, considering her friend’s question seriously. “He is courteous and dresses well. One may admire courtesy and neatness. He dances well and knows about roses. One may also admire skill and knowledge. But in truth I do not know him well enough yet to know if I admire him or not.
“He is not,” Catherine admitted, “a person of truly open character, although his manners seem frank enough.”
“Is that admirable, Catherine?” Sarah persisted. “I have always been of the mind that you preferred an open character, such as my husband, Squire Turner, or your neighbor, Lord Woodforde.”
“You are most importunate in quizzing me tonight,” Catherine said with an edge of irritation in her voice. She wished her aunt and friend would cease pushing Lord Woodforde as a better match.
“I am sorry,” Sarah said, placing her hand over her friend’s. “Let us not quarrel. It is only that I would wish you to be as happy in marriage as I am.
“Now I shall please you by turning the subject. I have informed my mother that Mr. Cowper is to speak at the next meeting of the Blue Stocking Society and she plans to attend. She has admired Mr. Cowper’s essays and poems and is most anxious to hear him speak. And Mrs. Stone has asked if she might bring the vicar.”
The two friends discussed their plans for the next Blue Stocking Society meeting until the other guests began to arrive at Moreton Manor, at which time Catherine left Sarah to her duties as hostess and went to her harp. Asking another guest to aid her, she endeavoured to tune her instrument as best she could by the small spinet in the manor drawing room. She then took her seat upon a straight-backed chair, spread her skirts out carefully, tipped the harp into her shoulder, and began to limber up her fingers by running though scales. By the time she had finished, most of the other musicians were present, as well as their audience, who sat on the chairs that ranged along the walls of the drawing room. Catherine could not yet see the Ellsworths, but trusted they would arrive before long, since Louisa often accompanied the musicians upon the spinet. Catherine posed herself carefully, conscious of the graceful figure she must present in her ivory satin gown, the tall gilt-ornamented harp pulled back and resting lightly against her breast.
The squire, nearly unrecognizable out of riding clothes and clad in an embroidered evening coat, approached Catherine and asked if she would begin playing as a soloist that evening because of the light tones of the harp. Catherine acquiesced, knowing that although later her music would be more of an accompaniment to the other musicians, here at the beginning of the evening was her opportunity to draw the marquess’ notice to her playing. Catherine placed her hands at the strings, elbows out and little fingers extended, paused a moment, and then began play
ing a prelude by Bach that she had adapted to her instrument, followed by the andante of a harp concerto by Handel. About halfway through the andante she became aware of Lord Edgecombe, who had taken a chair directly in front of her and was watching her performance with most flattering attention. Accustomed as she was to playing for an audience, the presence of the marquess did not cause Catherine to stumble in her performance, but his attention did cause her to become more aware of the picture she presented and she shifted slightly that her profile might be presented to greater advantage.
When Catherine finished the andante and lowered her arms, Squire Turner took his violin and began to play excerpts from sonatas by Leclair and Locatelli. When the squire relinquished the floor with a bow, Catherine knew it was a signal that the serious part of the evening was over, and she began a sprightly country air, luring the squire to once again raise his violin and stand by her, taking the melody. Sarah joined in with her soprano, as did Lady Manning with her fine contralto. The squire then switched to old ballads, coaxing more guests to join in until it was time for them to break for supper.
Catherine tipped her harp forward with relief and joined the other women as they entered the dining room. The men soon followed in a noisy group, and Catherine waited in some anxiety, hoping Lord Edgecombe would take one of the chairs beside her before Mr. Ellsworth or another less desirable dinner partner. She had not seen Lord Woodforde among the players or audience, so did not worry about his taking one of the chairs next to her.
“I see there is no end to your abilities, Miss Trevor,” Lord Edgecombe said, slipping into the seat to her left.
“You flatter me, Lord Edgecombe,” Catherine replied demurely, pleased he had chosen to sit next to her. “I fear I am lacking in many of the accomplishments owned by others of my sex.”
“And those deficiencies are…?” Lord Edgecombe asked as the other guests filled the remaining seats and began to help themselves from the array of dishes on the table.
“I fear I speak no Italian, little French, and am unable to use my drawing pencil to take the most rudimentary likeness.”
“Serious deficiencies indeed,” Lord Edgecombe said in a mock concern as he reached for a dish of venison. “Do you ride well?”
“Well enough, but not to the hounds,” Catherine admitted, wondering if this would be a detriment to a sportsman such as the marquess. But Lord Edgecombe surprised her.
“I do not find that a disadvantage. Riding with the hunt is not a pastime in which I care to see women take part, although I do not object to their riding out to the meet and following at a more sedate pace by the roads.”
Catherine, feeling immensely pleased with what she felt certain was a further sign that she was in favour with the marquess, smiled charmingly. Her right-hand neighbor then claimed her attention, and Catherine was unable to enjoy further private conversation with the marquess. Noting the amount of spirits consumed by the guests, Catherine knew that when the music began again after the supper the songs would become loud and bawdy. Grateful that the squire did not object to the lady musicians choosing not to stay for the second half of his musical evenings, Catherine directed the removal of her harp to her carriage. As the servants carried the harp through the door, Lord Edgecombe approached.
“Do you not stay for the remainder of the evening, Miss Trevor?”
“No, my playing is not required for the second half of the evening and my father prefers that Lady Manning and I return by midnight,” Catherine explained.
“I shall take my leave of you then, Miss Trevor. But you will be at Wednesday’s assembly room ball this week I trust? I seem to recall you promised to partner me for the minuet.”
“I shall indeed, Lord Edgecombe, and I also recall that promise,” Catherine assured him. “I wish you a good night.”
Catherine was silent as she rode home with her aunt, although exulting in her heart. Lord Edgecombe had remembered that he had engaged her for the minuet at the assembly rooms this week, and had reminded her of that promise. Surely that meant he had a most serious interest in her!
The night of the assembly room ball Catherine chose to wear another of her new gowns, a leaf-green confection of silk and exquisite blonde lace. As Flora adjusted the folds of the skirts over the full petticoats, Catherine viewed herself critically in the cheval glass.
“Do you think that the skirts stand out far enough for me to be allowed to dance the minuet by the master of the assembly rooms, Flora?” she asked her maid. “The master of the rooms is so very particular.”
“One more petticoat, I think, miss,” Flora responded, going to take a third petticoat from the wardrobe shelf and assisting her mistress into it.
“Yes, they are full enough now,” Catherine agreed, viewing the result in the glass. The silk skirts belled out from the fitted waist, contrasting with the close-fitting bodice. Lace edged the low-cut neckline, and additional lace spilled from the wrists of the three-quarter sleeves, falling over the backs of her hands. Ear drops accentuated the elegant line of her throat, and a neck chain of gold with an amber pendant completed her toilette. Unless one looked very closely, one would not know she was all of nine-and-twenty, Catherine thought with satisfaction. She selected a fan and shoes to complement the gown and was ready to leave for the ball.
The streets before the assembly room were crowded with arriving carriages, and by the time Catherine and Lady Manning were able to alight and ascend the stairs to the rooms there were few empty seats left in the room. As Catherine searched for any empty chairs, her attention was caught by Sarah Turner, who was waving her fan and gesturing.
“Thank you for saving us chairs,” Catherine said as she and Lady Manning took the two empty seats by Sarah and Squire Turner. “I see it is going to be another crowded assembly. The interest surrounding Lord Edgecombe must not have waned yet.”
“You are most welcome,” Sarah said, looking her friend’s choice of dress over. “You are looking very well this evening, Catherine. You have a fortunate figure for the current fashion.”
“You are looking far too attractive yourself for an old married lady,” Catherine teased her friend. “No doubt you shall persuade my beaus to desert me,” she added, admiring her friend’s choice of a fine blue silk gown with falls of white lace at the wrists and neckline. Sarah’s brown hair was pulled into a cascade of curls at the back and adorned with a simple headdress, and she appeared quite young and delectable.
“I should be quite satisfied if I should be able to keep the attentions of my husband,” Sarah said with a sigh as the squire left his wife to her friends and made for the card room.
“Rarely am I so fortunate as to dance with my own husband anymore. At least there are other gentlemen willing to dance with me.
“Do you think the marquess will keep his engagement to dance the minuet with you tonight, Catherine?” Sarah asked her friend as the Ellsworths and their guest entered the assembly rooms.
“He reminded me of it himself at your supper but two nights ago,” Catherine informed Sarah, “although I have doubts even so. Given that Lord Ellsworth has three daughters, two of whom are out, for him to choose me as his partner would be nigh to a declaration of interest.”
“Mrs. Turner, Miss Trevor, good evening,” a voice greeted them, and they turned to welcome Lord Woodforde. He was dressed for the evening in shining cream satin coat and knee breeches, his dark hair free of powder, fine lace at his neck and wrists, a flat chapeau-bras under his arm, and silver-buckled shoes on his feet. Almost, Catherine wished she might partner him again for the minuet instead of Lord Edgecombe.
“Would you do me the honour of dancing the minuet with me this evening, Miss Trevor?” he asked.
“I am sorry, but I am already engaged to dance with Lord Edgecombe,” Catherine said truthfully, although she feared not to dance at all should Edgecombe fail to partner her. “If he claims it,” she added honestly.
Woodforde’s eyebrows rose. “I must congratulate you, Miss Trevor
. That would appear to be a most promising sign for the success of your endeavors to attach his interest. And I think you need not fear he will not claim the dance, as I believe that is he approaching at this moment,” he added with a glance across the ballroom floor where the gentleman in question could be seen crossing the ballroom floor.
Lord Woodforde turned to Sarah. “Might I then ask the honour of your hand for the minuet, Mrs. Turner?”
Sarah accepted Lord Woodforde’s hand as Lord Edgecombe arrived to claim Catherine, and the four waited for the master of the assembly rooms to signal it was time for the first minuet to begin. As Catherine surveyed Lord Edgecombe’s appearance, she was again struck with the superficial resemblance between the two marquesses. Lord Edgecombe had chosen to wear a suit of gold cloth with a lace jabot and ruffles at the sleeves, fine white silk stockings, and patent shoes. Had the two tall gentlemen been viewed from the back, Catherine mused, one would have difficulty knowing who was who by their form or their elegance of dress. Idly she wondered if the physical resemblance contributed to her liking for Lord Edgecombe, giving him a feeling of familiarity despite their recent acquaintance.
The master of the assembly rooms signaled for the dancing to begin, and Catherine, holding her head high, walked proudly onto the floor with Lord Edgecombe. A feeling of excitement took hold, and she wondered why she had never bothered to learn all the intricacies that separated a truly fine performer of the minuet from the average before. As she and Lord Edgecombe began the series of postures and reciprocal bows and curtsies that preceded the minuet’s first offering of hands, Catherine once again focused on her partner that she might forget she had an audience and lose herself in the dance. Lord Edgecombe performed the small steps with elegant precision, and Catherine did the same. By the end of the minuet the room was still, and Catherine knew she had not imagined she was dancing well. The master of the assembly rooms himself came forward to congratulate them.