“Well, I’ll go,” agreed Charles, grudgingly, “since there’s no help for it. But I ain’t going to foot it round the ballroom with you, Mandy, so don’t look for it. Dance with my own sister, indeed! That would be too much of a good thing altogether.”
“I’m relieved to hear you say so,” replied Amanda, loftily, “since I shall be wearing a gown for which I have a particular regard, and to dance with you, one needs a suit of armour. Believe me, you have only to place me in the charge of Mrs. Veryan, who has kindly agreed to act as chaperone in Mama’s stead—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Mandy, stop talking in that missish way. It don’t sound natural from you! But tell me” — he seemed struck by a new thought — “will your friend Sue Veryan be there, then?”
“Of course. You don’t suppose her Mama would go otherwise, do you, clodpole? And Berenice and Georgie and even Lottie, I think, although she is not quite seventeen yet.”
Charles was understood to say that Miss Susan Veryan’s sisters were not of the slightest interest to him, being a dull set of girls and one or two of them spotty, into the bargain.
“But if Sue’s to be there, it mightn’t be so slow, after all,” he finished. “Tell you what — I might even stand up with her myself once or twice.”
“I’m sure Sue will be vastly obliged to you,” replied Amanda, “especially as you’re such an accomplished performer, and she is likely to be short of partners.”
He grinned. “You’re a little cat, aren’t you? But that’s the devil of it — she won’t be short of partners, if any girl is!”
The young lady in question was by way of being a local beauty. She was of Amanda’s age, with an oval, impish face framed by dark brown curls and a figure that was the envy of her sisters, all of whom were built on more generous lines. She was one of the many girls in the neighbourhood whom Amanda had known since childhood; and, next to Maria Cottesford, Amanda liked Susan best. Although she would not have admitted this to her brother without a struggle, Amanda privately shared his views on the other Veryan girls; but she believed firmly that females should present a united stand against male criticism.
They arrived at the ball a little late, owing to Charles’s insistence that the coachman should spring his horses. This resulted in an argument with a farmer who disliked having the side of his gig scraped by the Paxtons’ coach, and who took the best part of half an hour to express his views.
Charles eventually settled the matter by telling the injured party to send the bill for the repair in to Sir Robert Paxton, and they were able to go on their way again.
“I wouldn’t be in your shoes,” said Amanda severely, “when Papa receives that bill.”
“Lord, he’ll not raise too much of a dust about it,” replied her brother, airily. “Well, not for more than a few minutes, at any rate. Old Joseph’s past it, really, you know, Mandy. Should have been able to take that bend without getting over on his wrong side. Now if I’d been driving—”
“We’d have done even more damage, or else ended up in the ditch,” finished Amanda, unfairly, for her brother was a creditable whip. “It was all your fault for making him go so fast. He’s a very steady coachman, and you should allow him to go at his own pace. I only hope Papa won’t blame him too much.”
“Lud, no, what d’you think I am? I shall tell Father I made him spring ’em, of course. Don’t trouble your head over that.”
Knowing quite well that this was true, and that he was not at all the kind to shift blame on to another’s shoulders, she allowed the matter to rest.
In due course they presented themselves in the ballroom, to find that the dancing had already begun. Casting a quick but searching glance over the floor, Amanda discerned Mr. Somerby partnering Miss Merson, a tall, graceful young lady with dark hair and very soulful hazel eyes, of which she was at present making the maximum use. Forcing a negligent smile, Amanda went to sit by Mrs. Veryan and her elder daughter Berenice; seeing the latter unpartnered, Charles Paxton resourcefully removed himself to the other end of the room and fell into conversation with one or two of his acquaintances.
Towards the end of the dance, he sauntered back again and, contriving to detach his sister from the Veryan ladies, solicited her hand for the next one. She was surprised by this unlooked-for gallantry, but made it clear that she did not wish for the honour.
“What’s more,” she finished, “I’d like very much to know why you have changed your mind. You made it clear on our way here that the last thing you wanted was to dance with me!”
“Well, so it is,” he answered, incurably frank. “But I thought it might be no bad thing to put in a bit of practice before I ask Sue Veryan. Not much in my line, dancing, as you well know.”
“Thank you very much! I have no intention of allowing you to practise on me!” retorted his sister indignantly.
“Oh, come on, Mandy, be a sport! Tell you what, I’ll let you tool my curricle tomorrow, if you do.”
“You will?” She was clearly tempted by this offer. The curricle had been recently bestowed on Charles by his father and was his most jealously guarded possession. “Oh, well, in that case, I’ll do my best to bear with you for just one dance. Will you let me take the curricle out on my own?”
“No, damme, that’s asking too much! You’re a pretty fair whip, or I wouldn’t risk it at all, but it’s no go unless I come out with you.”
Amanda accepted this meekly enough, and they stood together waiting for the band to strike up again. At that moment the Reverend Theodore Somerby approached them and, having spoken the usual greetings to both, requested the pleasure of Miss Paxton’s hand for the next dance.
Dismayed, Amanda tried to signal to Charles a postponement of their arrangement, but he seemed singularly obtuse. Meanwhile Mr. Somerby stood by, looking a trifle surprised at being obliged to wait for an answer.
“I’m — I’m so sorry,” she stammered, at last. “I’m — I’m promised to my brother for this dance.”
Mr. Somerby bowed. “Then may I perhaps hope that you will honour me by allowing me to partner you in the next?”
Amanda replied that she would be delighted; but there was a mixture of embarrassment and irritation in her manner which the gentleman sensed without being able to understand. He could not know that the irritation was for her brother, and withdrew wondering what he could possibly have done to give offence.
“Now see what you’ve done!” exclaimed Amanda, peevishly. “He thinks I don’t wish to dance with him!”
“What, is he one of your beaux?” asked Charles in a teasing tone. “How could I know that? It was Jack Merson during the long vac.”
“Jack Merson,” replied his sister, loftily, “is only a boy.”
He laughed. “I see. Well, don’t put yourself in a fidget. He’ll scarcely take a huff because you’re to partner your brother. Not as if it were some other man, what?”
He swept her into the set and for some time was occupied in watching his steps. Amanda, although a trifle upset still, grudgingly acknowledged to herself that he was performing quite creditably for one who professed to dislike the exercise. It was not until the dance was nearly ended that she had reason to revise this opinion. He allowed his attention to waver for one fatal second when Miss Susan Veryan drifted into view, with the result that he missed a step and trod upon his sister’s toe.
She let out an involuntary ejaculation of pain, and he stepped back hastily, apologising. Unfortunately, he caught his foot in the hem of her gown, which was finished with a flounce. At the same time Amanda moved too, tearing part of the flounce from its stitching so that it dangled on the floor.
“You clumsy wretch!” she exclaimed in vexation. “I must go and do my best to pin up my gown now, I suppose, for it’s impossible to continue with it like this! Oh, you are beyond anything stupid!”
She gathered up her skirts just as the final notes were being played and headed for the ladies’ retiring room. Her speedy exit went unnoticed by the
other dancers, who were too concerned with their own affairs to have noticed the mishap, while her brother dropped out with something of a hangdog air to seek consolation in the refreshment room.
Thus it was that when the orchestra began to tune up for the next dance and gentlemen were seeking out their partners, Mr. Somerby was unable to find Miss Paxton. He approached Mrs. Veryan to enquire for her, but that lady was unable to enlighten him.
“You say she was promised to you for this dance? Well, I’m sure I’ve no notion where she may be. I believe I saw her dancing the last one with her brother, but she’s not returned to me since. Quite likely the pair of them have gone off on one of their mad starts, for they are such droll creatures, those Paxtons, you must know! However, if you are lacking a partner, Mr. Somerby, perhaps you would care to lead out Berenice or Georgiana, for they are not promised to anyone else. Are you, my dears?”
Both Veryan girls confirmed this eagerly; and Mr. Somerby, finding himself in an awkward situation, was constrained to lead out Berenice, who was the elder and therefore had the prior claim. As he guided her into the set that was forming, he did his best to suppress what he judged to be a somewhat unworthy thought that she was a poor exchange for the young lady he had expected to partner. He speculated a little on Amanda’s behaviour. When he had first asked her to dance, she had hesitated as though unwilling and then told him that she had promised the dance to her brother. He had thought at the time that an engagement to a brother was of all arrangements the easiest to revoke, and wondered if perhaps she was making an excuse. Her manner as she accepted his application for the honour of the next dance had also seemed reluctant. And now she had absented herself before she could redeem her promise. Did this mean that she wished to avoid his company?
He could think of no cause he might have given her to act in this way. When they had parted a few days ago, after he had taken her home in his gig, it had been on an extremely amicable note. What could possibly have occurred in the meantime to give her a dislike of him? He stifled a sigh as he bent his head to pay attention to Miss Veryan’s conversation so that he might make suitable replies to the young lady. Females were strange creatures, after all; but he had thought Miss Paxton more direct in her dealings and less subject to attacks of temperament than most. Either he was mistaken in her, or else he had unwittingly given offence. All he could do now was to keep out of her way until she was disposed to forgive him for he knew not what.
When Amanda finally returned to the ballroom after a protracted tussle with her torn gown, she was extremely taken aback to discover that her partner had not had the grace to wait even a quarter hour for the pleasure of her company. She determined to teach him a lesson by refusing should he have the temerity to ask her to dance again. As the evening wore on and she realised that she was not to have the opportunity of making this gesture, since Mr. Somerby never once approached her, she became by turns depressed and annoyed. She found no shortage of other partners, since she was a popular girl and knew almost everyone in the ballroom; so she danced for the remainder of the evening with a great deal of verve and vivacity, particularly when Mr. Somerby happened to be close at hand.
The only benefit gained by the misunderstanding was that those young ladies who had greeted Miss Paxton coolly on her arrival became noticeably more cordial as the evening wore on and they observed that she had no intention of monopolising the curate. But as Amanda cared nothing for their opinion, it was an advantage which she did not feel.
CHAPTER IX
During the next few weeks, she saw the Reverend Theodore Somerby only at church, when nothing but a formal greeting between them was possible. She felt regretful that what had seemed to be such a promising friendship should have petered out in this unsatisfactory way, more particularly as she was at a loss to account for the sudden change in the gentlemen’s demeanour towards her.
It was at this point that she received a further letter from Maria, asking if she would be willing to act as bridesmaid at the forthcoming nuptials in July.
And if you could only manage to come and stay with me for a few weeks at present, dearest Amanda, I think it would perhaps assist me in preserving my tottering sanity! I had no notion at all of the prodigious fuss attendant on a wedding! Mama surrounds me with a positive army of milliners, mantua makers, dressmakers, and the like; and I am daily required to inspect yards of material or make a choice from among so many fashion plates that I see them in my sleep. Only your calm good sense can preserve me from being carried off to Bedlam in a straitjacket — which I must own would be a most unbecoming garment for a wedding, besides setting all poor Mama’s exertions at naught. So pray do come at once, if you are able, and help me to survive it all unscathed.
Amanda was very much amused by her friend’s account of the wedding preparations, and knew Lady Cottesford well enough to realise that it was only a trifle exaggerated. But all the same she wondered at being asked to pay a visit at such a time. Surely lovers would prefer to spend their time together without the encumbrance of a visitor?
For her own part, she was glad enough to go at present, and wrote back to accept both invitations. This time she did not go out to post the letter herself, so there was no chance of again being taken up by Mr. Somerby in his gig.
She remained with Maria for the better part of a month, returning home early in June. While she was there, it surprised her to find how little time the betrothed couple spent entirely alone. They met chiefly in the company of others, so that Amanda had no occasion to feel in the way. She could not help reflecting that these arrangements would not have satisfied her own notions, had she been betrothed; but Maria seemed to find no fault with them, and, indeed, looked so radiant that it was obvious she was happy. As for Viscount Shaldon, he seemed well enough suited, too. Watching him closely at times, however, Amanda would feel a twinge of uneasiness. He was everything that was pleasant and courteous, and he omitted no attention to Maria; yet to Amanda’s critical eye there was something lacking. Exactly what it was she found herself unable to decide until one day when she and Maria had been discussing Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s brilliant play The School for Scandal. And then it came to her in a flash that here was the explanation she sought — Viscount Shaldon’s behaviour to his betrothed was a performance, nothing more. She had failed to detect any sincerity in it. She hoped profoundly that she was mistaken, and took herself severely to task for being too harsh a critic of what might well be only company manners. Yet deep down, with an unreasoning presentiment that was often to visit her in later life on behalf of those she loved, she knew that all was not well.
Life at home was soon enlivened by the arrival on vacation of Charles and Frederick, bringing with them a constant stream of visitors, mostly young men of their own age and sporting tastes. Several of these cast a considering eye in Amanda’s direction; but although she was quite ready to accompany them on the less hearty of their outings and indulge in light badinage from time to time, she firmly repulsed anything in the way of what she thought of as sentimental nonsense.
As they considered themselves — in their own terms — complete to a shade, they would have been considerably mortified had they realised that to the charming Miss Paxton they appeared little more than pleasant schoolboys. Like her own brothers, she found them still immature. Perhaps it might be because she could not help comparing all the young gentlemen of her acquaintance with one whom she seldom saw nowadays, but of whom she thought more often than she wished to do.
She was assisting her mother in making welfare visits in the village when next she encountered Mr. Somerby alone. Lady Paxton took a compassionate interest in all the sick and needy of the neighbourhood, paying personal calls and conveying comforts to them at regular intervals. In this work she was frequently helped by Amanda; and although the mother’s sensible counsel was of great benefit to the sufferers, it was the daughter’s cheerful informality which they particularly welcomed. Lady Paxton knew this quite well; so on this occasion sh
e had deputed Amanda to call on Mrs. Joliffe, onetime kitchen maid at Oakley Park, who had recently given birth to her sixth child.
“With five children already, she will scarce require any advice from me on the rearing of this latest addition to the family,” said Lady Paxton. “But a visit from you will cheer her up, child, and Cook has packed several nourishing foodstuffs in this basket for her.”
Amanda took the basket and set off in the direction of Mrs. Joliffe’s cottage while her mother went the opposite way to pay another call. She was admitted to the house by a slightly grubby urchin of six or seven years, who grinned at her engagingly before being hastily adjured by his mother to go and wash himself at the pump before daring to come again into the presence of their distinguished visitor.
“Such a trial they be, these lads, Miss Amanda. There’s no keeping them clean for five minutes together! Now, Kitty,” addressing a skinny child of about eight-years-old, who seemed to be the eldest, “look alive and place a chair for Miss Paxton. Yes, the best one, with the cushion; that’s right. Pray be seated, Miss — ma’am, I should say, but I keep going back to the old days when I was at the Park and you was not much older than Kitty here.”
Amanda duly seated herself, made her enquiries as to mother and child’s health and delivered Lady Paxton’s gifts, which were received with genuine delight and a few tears for the kindness. But before long she was down on the floor playing with the children, having carelessly cast aside her bonnet. Intent on the game, which was causing much childish laughter, she paid no heed to a knock on the door which this time was answered by Mrs. Joliffe in person. She looked up startled at hearing herself addressed a few moments later in masculine tones, and saw that Mr. Somerby had entered and was looking down at her with an amused smile on his face.
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