Lord Rupert led me out and we began to dance. Bella, I do believe that I have never had a better partner for a waltz in my life; his lead was confident but considerate, and we fairly flew across the floor. I have been told that Austrians excel at the waltz, but I now know it to be true.
“I am most obliged to you, Miss Stafford, for agreeing to dance with me,” Lord Rupert said as we waltzed. “I believe you noticed I was interested in joining the ball, and it was your sympathy that made me feel comfortable enough to ask Lady Rousseau to introduce us.” All this was said in French, and while he spoke beautifully, I could not help wanting to show off a little.
“You did look as though you would rather be dancing than playing cards,” I replied in German. His blue eyes lit up with appreciation and surprise.
“You speak German?” he asked, also switching. His voice, a warm baritone, had all the fluidity of a natural speaker, but his accent was less harsh than that of men like Baron Wilhelm. The Austrian dialect is much more lyrical than that of Germany, and it is simply delightful.
“My father is a man of linguistics and made sure to include your beautiful language in my studies as a girl.”
“You speak it very well. I have not often heard such a genuine accent outside of my own country. It really is quite Austrian, in fact. Was your tutor perhaps an Austrian?”
“Indeed yes. Herr Schellen was from Tyrol.” Lord Rupert nodded knowingly. “But I believe we were speaking of dancing a moment ago. I did notice that you wished to dance, and I am very glad to see that you have found time for it.”
“As am I; my uncle is not fond of balls, and he is rather annoyed that our visit to Lady Rousseau has fallen during such a time. I, however, am not sorry at all.” As if to prove it, he performed a rather complex turn that spun us around a great deal. Had it not been for his excellent leading, I do believe I might have tripped over myself most horridly. As it was, we sailed through with ease. “And I must be a fool indeed if I am not grateful to have my first partner be such an excellent dancer. I have watched you dance with great enjoyment throughout the evening. You are very skilled, Miss Stafford.” I blushed in spite of myself at his plain words. So he had been watching me on purpose. It was difficult to keep my countenance under the gaze of those eyes and with that smile directed down on me.
“The gentleman you were attending on is your uncle, I believe you said,” I said, changing the subject after thanking him quietly. “Are you visiting Paris on business?”
“Actually, we came because my uncle is interested in the Linguistic Society’s symposium. That is why we are attending the ball tonight as well, for my uncle wished to speak with several of the men present and could not pass up the opportunity to do so, even though it meant suffering through an evening of dancing.”
“Perhaps we shall see one another in the lecture halls. My father has several more presentations to give on his research, and I often attend his speeches.”
“That would be most enjoyable,” Lord Rupert said with another smile. We continued to talk about the symposium until the waltz ended and Lady Rousseau called the assembly to supper. Lord Rupert did indeed take me in and sat with me the entire time. It was simply marvelous, for we found we have much in common besides an interest in dancing and linguistics. He is an avid music lover, and he told me that he has been to the house where Mozart himself lived and worked! According to him, the opera house in Vienna is one of the finest on the Continent, even better than La Scala in Milan. We talked of music, books, and of his home city throughout the meal, and I was anticipating dancing with him again once more before the evening was over (for more than that, you know, would have been unseemly on such a short acquaintance). But there I was disappointed, for upon our entering the ballroom, his uncle (Count Hans Josef von Schönfeld, I found out later) approached us with a most annoyed air.
“And where have you been all this time, I may ask?” he said in German, without even a nod in my direction or an acknowledgement of my presence.
“At supper, Uncle, with Miss Eleanor Stafford,” Lord Rupert replied, smoothly inserting my name by way of a makeshift introduction. “Lady Rousseau was kind enough to introduce us after you joined the other gentlemen in the card room.” I bobbed a curtsey, not wishing to appear impolite.
“Hmph!” His uncle looked me up and down once before turning back to Lord Rupert. “I did not bring you to Paris so that you could waste your evenings frolicking about. It is time for us to leave. We would have left during the supper if you had been in the card room where you were supposed to be.”
“My apologies, Uncle; I shall just return Miss Stafford to her party, and then I shall join you directly.” Rupert bowed formally to his uncle, and I curtsied again, then allowed Rupert to steer me away before the Count could say anything else objectionable.
“I am very sorry for my uncle’s behavior, Miss Stafford. He is more than usually grumpy tonight and has forgotten his manners. I hope that you will not take offence.”
“No indeed. I am sorry to be the means of causing you any trouble, for I am sure he would not have minded your dancing had you returned to him instead of accompanying me.”
“Now you must tell me who I am to return you to, for I find I do not know which party you came with tonight,” he said, waving off my apology and continuing to lead me around the ballroom. I looked about for a bit and caught sight of Papa and Step-mamma standing just to the left of the door to the hall. We walked over to them, and I introduced Lord Rupert. He bowed respectfully to them both, and thanked me for the pleasure of my company, taking my hand in the European way and brushing his lips against my gloved fingers before leaving us. I felt a fluttering sensation when he looked up from his bow over my hand, for his eyes were quite sparkling in that moment, although it could easily have just been the light reflecting from the candles behind us. Not long afterward, he and his uncle said their goodbyes to Lady R. and quitted the room.
“Well Eleanor, you have been keeping some fine company this evening,” Papa said teasingly. “I would not be surprised to find that every girl in the room is envying you your partner at this moment. Who would have thought it?”
“Charles dear, do stop speaking in conundrums; you know how I detest such vague speeches,” Step-mamma said wearily as she fanned herself. She had smiled pleasantly enough when I introduced Lord Rupert to them, but now she was looking cross. Perhaps she was offended that he did not pay her more attention.
“Sylvia my dear, the young man you just met was none other than Baron Rupert von Schönfeld himself. His uncle is a count in the Hapsburg royal line and Rupert, by way of lineage, is very likely to be considered an heir to the throne should the immediate family fail to thrive. That young man is the reason this ball is so crowded tonight.”
Step-mamma’s expression of shock could only be matched by my own. Indeed, I would not have guessed that my partner was the highly eligible royal everyone had been longing to see even if he had been wearing a coronet. His manner was so open and friendly, nothing like I would have expected of one who could inherit a throne. And Lady Rousseau did not give me even a hint of warning when she introduced us! As for my stepmother, she could only gape at Papa for several minutes, and I was not able to hear what response she finally gave, because by then the dancing had started again and my hand was claimed.
I am afraid I was not quite as attentive as I should have been for the rest of the ball. Lord Rupert’s face kept coming back to my mind, with his thick dark hair and regular features serving to accent the brilliance of those blue eyes even in memory. It was the same on the carriage ride home, and even now as I sit recounting this story to you, it is as easy to remember his face as if he were standing in front of me.
And now I simply must end and go to bed, for it is quite late, and I have a music lesson with Madame Dubois in the morning. All my love to you and your papa, and do write soon.
Yours,
Eleanor
5 April, 1845
Copley Manor
, Kent
Dearest Eleanor,
You truly lead a charmed life, my dear cousin, in spite of your unfortunate relations. Baron von Schönfeld seems possessed of every virtue that could make a gentleman worthy of the name. I do hope you shall meet him again, and that you will not forget to write to me about your continuing acquaintance. Indeed, I will be very surprised if he does not take an early opportunity of seeking you out through his connection to Lady Rousseau. He seems rather enamored of you, from the details in your account of the evening. Depend upon his calling within the week.
Oh, how I envy you your choice in eligible men! And you of all people should know that I do not make such statements lightly. Of course I wish to one day wed and have a family of my own, but only after I find a man who satisfies my idea of true companionship; someone who shares my love of learning and literature; who is, in short, not intimidated by an intelligent woman. You know my dreams of educating my own children, rather than relying on the skills of tutors or governesses. (Your own experience with Mr. Lubbock and his self-conceit is one I particularly wish to avoid. How vexing to have one’s education hampered by the preening of one’s teacher!) What I desire above all in a husband is a mutual attachment to knowledge, and a willingness to help me educate our children in every subject. My own mother was dedicated to just such a plan, and though I was only nine when she passed away, her influence on me was profound. And my father has done his best to continue what she began.
Sadly, I am not likely to find this combination of traits in our small village. I do not think my dreams are terribly newfangled, but the young men here seem to think that wives are only good for organizing card parties and ordering good dinners. It is a shame, for there are several young men here (as you know) who are gentlemanly and not unintelligent. But there is a lack of confidence in the ability of ladies to be intelligent, rational beings that disheartens me. They seem rather to expect us to be dull-witted and concerned only with the contents of our wardrobes. Dress is, of course, most important, but only if one is also focused on one’s abilities and accomplishments.
You must forgive me for rattling on about this subject; I have been longing for someone in which to confide these feelings in the aftermath of this week. And that brings me, rather belatedly, to my news. I fear your kind hints regarding Gilbert Cosgrove have proved accurate in a way I was doing my utmost to avoid. But let me start from the first, for there are other pieces of news that will be equally interesting to you, even though they are not technically connected.
The Duke of Stirling has been visiting regularly ever since he discovered that Papa is quite advanced in his understanding of chemical science. Something like a friendship has developed between them, and I have seen even more of the Duke than before. Thankfully, his discomfiting habit of staring at me seems to have a limit. Perhaps it is his respect for Papa that keeps his behavior civil when he takes tea with us after an afternoon spent in the laboratory.
I do believe I had begun to consider the Duke’s visits as a matter of course, when Agnes Duncan arrived for tea alone on Monday and announced that the Duke was to return to Scotland the very next day.
“I am quite relieved, I can assure you,” she added, sighing slightly as she accepted a macaroon from me. “His manners may have improved slightly, but he has still been a most tiresome houseguest. And our housekeeper is even more relieved than I am.”
“Why is that?”
“Mrs. Arden tells me that His Grace’s valet is a most annoying man. ‘Vain as a peacock and interested only in impressing the young ladies with his foreign manners,’ I believe were her words. Pierre is French, so I suppose it is no wonder she disapproves of him.”
I nodded solemnly and bit back a smile over imagining the usually cheerful Mrs. Arden chasing a young Frenchman away from the chambermaids with that ridiculous duster she usually carries about. “Well, he shall soon be gone, and we shall all settle back into our usual routines.”
But my prediction was not to be, for later that afternoon Papa received a letter from the Duke himself. It contained an actual invitation to join him on his journey and stay at his family castle for several weeks! Papa shared the news with me over dinner and I was naturally quite surprised. But Papa’s enthusiasm for the trip was perhaps even more incredible; you know how much he dislikes traveling. It seems, however, that the Duke is currently conducting experiments on enhancing crop production by applying chemistry principles to natural substances. I confess I do not know much about botany beyond what you have taught me during our walks through your mother’s rose garden, so I understand very little of the matter. But Papa is most intrigued, and he made up his mind at once to accept the Duke’s invitation.
The rest of the day was spent in preparations for Papa’s trip, including a hastily sent letter to my old governess, Miss Tanner, to invite her to join me at Copley Manor for the duration of Papa’s absence. Did you ever meet Miss Tanner? I have a notion that you were introduced once, (before Miss Harper replaced her), but I cannot be certain. She was married some five years ago to a sailor in the Royal Navy, a man by the name of Potter. Lieutenant Potter is currently on a tour in the West Indies while Mrs. Potter remains in England with their two little boys. I expect their arrival later this afternoon. It is unfortunate that they were unable to arrive sooner, for I would have had a much easier time in preventing the event which makes up the last piece of news from my rather interesting week.
Papa left the next day with the Duke, and I spent a rather dull week at home, in spite of half the village calling on me. By Friday afternoon I was quite bored. Deciding that I might as well be outdoors as in, I took a book and went out into the gardens. The weather was unusually warm for this time of year, and I determined to settle on the bench that runs around the large oak in the south lawn.
I had not been seated there long when I heard the sound of hooves crunching on the gravel drive in front of the house. For a moment I contemplated returning to the house, but the day was so pleasant, and I was out of temper for yet another social call. It seemed more than reasonable that it could be a gentleman calling for Papa, not knowing him to be away, in which case the servants could manage perfectly well without my presence. It did not occur to me to think that it could be a lady, for my female acquaintances do not ride much, and I had heard only one horse. For good measure, I moved my seat to the opposite side of the tree so that I might be better obscured from view, and quickly became lost again in my reading.
You may imagine my great surprise, therefore, when a voice sounded from behind me, startling me to no small degree. “Miss Copley, it is a pleasure to find you home this afternoon.” It was none other than Gilbert Cosgrove. He held the reins of his horse in one hand, a clear indication that he had not waited for the servants to attend him before seeking me out. Indeed, the question of whether he had passed over the ceremony of inquiring at the door shot through my mind at the sight of him standing there, appearing far more comfortable than I felt.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Cosgrove,” I said, striving to keep my tone neutral. I did not offer him the courtesy of standing to curtsey and only just managed to incline my head slightly by way of a greeting. Why he had come was beyond me, for he had been present when I had taken tea with the Bartletts on Tuesday and had there heard of my father’s absence. I decided that ignorance might best suit the situation. “If you have come to call upon Papa, I am afraid he is not at home. He has gone to stay with the Duke of Stirling at his residence in Scotland.”
“Oh yes, I am aware of your father’s intended travel plans. Devilish lucky, too, for they shall no doubt enjoy some jolly good sport. I hear the Duke has some fine woods about that old pile of his that would put the woods in this part of the country to shame.”
I nodded, uncertain what reply to make. The silence stretched between us for several moments before I determined to break it. “Did you have business with my father? I am certain that Mr. Fulton would be more than happy to discuss such matters with you.”
“No, thank you, I do not yet require the services of Mr. Copley’s steward. But I am certain that will change shortly.” Another pause followed this incomprehensible statement as Gilbert looked first at me, then around the park, and then back at me.
“Then forgive me, Mr. Cosgrove, but why have you come?” My annoyance was not very well concealed, but I was tired of being made to guess at the reason for his visit.
“I have come to see you, of course. Is it not obvious?”
“Indeed, I am surprised, for I cannot think why you should have come to see me when I can provide no more than common conversation.” (You will be shocked at my lack of civility, but I know you will do me the justice of seeing how little civility Gilbert deserved.)
“Then I will explain my reason for coming, if you will permit me.” He suddenly became somewhat nervous, taking his hat into his hand and pacing slightly before me. Just as suddenly he stopped and stood looking down on me. “I come to ask you to make me the happiest man in the world, Miss Copley. In short, I come to ask you to consent to be my wife.”
My shock deprived me of my voice for several moments before I managed to say “Mr. Cosgrove, this is quite untoward. Have you spoken with my father about this matter?”
“Why the devil should you think I have? He is away, is he not? I should not think it would signify much whether I ask his consent before yours, for he is sure to approve and it is not him I wish to marry.” Again my shock rendered me speechless, for though I have always known Gilbert to be a fool, I had not previously known the depth to which his folly extended.
“What say you, Isabella? Will you complete my happiness and give me your hand?” As speechless as I already was, the familiar use of my Christian name quite undid me. The Cosgroves cannot be considered more than neighborhood acquaintances to my family. They are never invited to dine with our smaller circle of friends, they never take tea with us in our home unless a formal call is being paid by the mother and father, and Mildred Cosgrove and I are not close companions. For Gilbert to use my Christian name in such a familiar fashion when we are not acknowledged friends, to say nothing of courting… well, my face must have shown instantly how much it disagreed with me.
Glass Roses: A Victorian Fairytale Page 6