Father and Mr. Graham did not share the source of immediate camaraderie that their wives enjoyed – that of having attended the same school – for Papa had gone to Oxford and Mr. Graham was a Cambridge man. With a little exertion, however, that substantial obstacle was successfully surmounted. It seemed they were prepared to be friends, and, with their wives and daughters so determined that they should be, they really had little choice but to find by the end of the meal that they got on remarkably well indeed.
After dinner, the men furthered their friendship over a glass of port whilst we ladies withdrew to the sitting room for conversation.
“Have you been to the ballrooms yet?” Mrs. Graham inquired of my mother. “Susan has talked of nothing else since we arrived in town, and we have consented to take her at the first opportunity. I thought you might advise us.”
“No, I can offer you no first-hand account as we have never been there. Mr. Walker’s health has not allowed for it thus far. Still, I have managed to glean some information that might be of use. I understand that the Upper Rooms, the newer ballrooms farther up the hill, are very fine. However, I would still recommend the Lower Rooms, especially if you have no other acquaintance in town. The master of ceremonies there is reputed to be most accommodating. He will make introductions, so Miss Graham will have a dance partner. And I believe there is to be a ball there tomorrow night.”
“An excellent suggestion. But what a shame it is for Miss Walker to have been in town so long without a ball. If you and your husband would permit it, Mr. Graham and I should be happy to convey her to the dance tomorrow. I can serve as her chaperone, and she will be a companion for Susan.”
The men returned just in time for Mr. Graham to second the invitation and for Papa to give his consent. Being now absolved from any guilt for going by my father’s own insistence that I should, I certainly made no objection. Susan and I soon had our heads together making plans for the ball and speculating at length about the gratification it was sure to bring. At parting, we agreed to continue the subject on the morrow, the topic being far too consequential to canvass adequately in only one afternoon.
The next day, when we reconvened at the Pump-room, Susan and I were excused from the monotony of walking up and down indoors in favor of the fresh occupation of walking up and down outdoors. So, with umbrellas in hand as a precaution against the real possibility of inclement weather, we ventured onto Stall Street and set off with no particular destination in mind.
“My dear, I could hardly sleep for thinking about tonight,” said Susan. “It has been ever so long since I have had a dance. In our small village, there are rarely enough young people together in one place to support the idea of a ball. And you? Do you often go to balls and parties, Jo?”
“They are not so very rare in Wallerton. Still, what I long for, what I dare to hope this evening will supply, is a more agreeable choice of partners.”
“Have you met any young men since you have been in Bath?”
“Not yet, but I have seen one or two that I should very much like to meet,” I said, giving my new friend, by the inflection of my voice and the smallest inclination of my head, the hint to glance across the street. There she and I discretely observed a relatively tall, well-dressed gentleman of about five- or six-and-twenty advancing with a self-assured gait, apparently totally oblivious to our existence. We were equally careful not to betray any consciousness of him.
“He is fearful handsome. Perhaps he will be at the ball tonight.” Susan said a little too loudly for my comfort.
At that very moment, a violent rain commenced causing us to exclaim in alarm, deploy our umbrellas in unison, and reverse our course to return to the Pump-room. This flurry of activity inadvertently brought us at last to the notice of the gentleman across the street. And, when a sudden gust of wind tore my umbrella from my grasp, he was there in three strides to retrieve it. He placed it back into my hand without a word, leaving me flustered by being brought so unexpectedly face to face with such a fine-looking stranger.
“Thank you, sir,” I managed to say despite my not inconsiderable degree of perturbation.
“I am honored to be of service, madam,” he answered, fixing my gaze for a moment with his formidable dark eyes. Then he dropped me an elegant bow and departed as quickly as he had arrived.
The brief encounter left me surprisingly shaken. Never before had I found any man capable of so thoroughly discomposing me by his aspect and proximity. Miss Graham gave me a quizzical look, evidently expecting some kind of coherent remark but finding me dumbstruck instead.
“What an impressive gentleman – so fine a figure and so gallant,” prompted Susan.
Still in a bit of a daze, I mused, “How extraordinary that he should have been brought to us just as we were… just as I was…”
“…wishing to meet him?” Susan volunteered. “Yes, what an amazing coincidence. One might be tempted to think you lost hold of your umbrella for precisely that purpose,” she teased.
This roused me from my earnest reflections, and I laughed. “I will forgive your impertinence this time, Miss Graham. We are not yet well-enough acquainted for you to know that such a scheme would never occur to me. Since it did to you, however, I shall remember where to go for that sort of assistance in future.”
“Yes, I possess an untapped wealth of scathingly brilliant ideas. I shall put them completely at your disposal. Yet you may not need a one of them, for I think you have already made your first conquest in Bath without my help.”
“Do not be ridiculous! My dear Susan, you make far too much of this. The gentleman was merely being polite. I’m sure he would have done the same for my mother or any other woman.”
“Perhaps, but I daresay he would not have been so eager nor enjoyed it half so much. I saw the way he looked at you, the way you looked at each other. I wonder who he is… and if he has a friend for me.”
We laughed, and I continued to make light of the incident. Yet the memory of it held me tightly in its grip for the rest of the afternoon. I could not stop thinking about the stranger, nor could I resist hoping that he would not remain unknown to me much longer.
8
The Lower Rooms
Upon returning to the house, my parents and I found that the post had come in our absence bringing a letter from Agnes at Wallerton and another from Tom at Oxford. On a single sheet, Tom reported that he had already settled back into the hospitable embrace of his college, and he pledged – as indeed he did every term – to apply himself to his studies with renewed vigor and devotion. The brief, perfunctory note hardly seemed to merit the tender reverence with which Mama handled it. Apparently, she alone could discern the fonder sentiments and more noble aspirations concealed beneath and between the words so carelessly scrawled upon the page.
My letter from Agnes was not intended for general consumption and held no fascination for anyone but myself. Accordingly, I carried it off to my room for a private perusal. The thick folds of paper promised well for its being a more generous and edifying correspondence than the other. However, even though Agnes was very liberal with her words and far more candid expressing her sensibilities, she ultimately related little information. That very lack of news figured prominently in the theme of her discourse.
“I declare that nothing interesting ever happens in Wallerton,” she wrote, “and I am convinced that I shall never enjoy so much as one ounce of excitement as long as I remain here. My dearest friend, I depend on your letters so. Let me hear from you very often, so that I may sample vicariously that which I hope will soon be mine to savor in person. The prospect of joining you in Bath is what sustains me.”
“Poor Agnes,” I thought aloud, “I do pity you. Well, I shall write you a good, long letter tomorrow, I promise. By then I hope to have some news worth telling, some experience truly deserving of your envy.”
After dinner, I began the delightful ritual of dressing for the ball. As I did so, I pictured the scene in my imagination and wondere
d who my dance partner would be. In answer, the face of the intriguing gentleman I had encountered earlier that day once again sprang unbidden to my mind. He had made quite an impression on me. One minute I fervently prayed that he would come to the ball and procure an introduction, and the next I reproached myself for allowing such an idle fancy to dominate my thoughts. I was not accustomed to this sort of emotional agitation.
Mama, coming in to check on me, discovered me fully ready to go and impatiently pacing the length of my room.
“My dear, how well you look,” she said. “That gown is so becoming. I am glad you chose it for tonight. Green has always been your best color. But why so anxious? It is not like you to become overexcited by the prospect of a ball.”
“This is no ordinary ball, Mama. At a dance in Wallerton, one knows exactly what to expect – who will be there, how they will behave, what dances we will have and in what order they will be played. Tonight, everything is different – new people, a new place. Anything could happen.”
“And you are hoping that something does, I suppose.”
“What?”
“I was once your age, you know, and it does not seem so long ago either. Believe it or not, I can still remember how nervous I felt before a ball. That was always the way with me, but I have never seen you like this before.”
“I am sorry, Mama. I do not know what is wrong with me.”
“No need to apologize; I rather like it. It makes me feel as if we have a little more in common. I never thought that I had much to teach you. Perhaps now, at this juncture, you may find that you need a mother’s advice after all.” Taking my hand, she continued, “I will never force a confidence from you, but I want you to know that you can come to me with your problems at any time. I have some knowledge and experience with affairs of the heart. I was quite admired in my day, and your father was not the first to notice me.”
“Mama!”
“Why so shocked, my dear? Did you never consider the possibility that your mother might know what it is like to be pursued by a man, or even more than one?”
No, I had never given it an instant’s thought in the whole course of my existence.
She went on. “I do not suppose that you have, any more than I did at your age. Well, nevertheless, it is true. So remember, you can talk to me about such things if and when you have the need.”
I promised to bear it in mind.
At length, my party arrived and Mr. Graham came to the door to collect me. The afternoon rain had left behind a pattern of puddles of various sizes, scattered at random like so many mushrooms sprung up across the forest floor. Lest my carefully arranged dancing clothes be spoilt at the very outset of the evening, I held my skirt and carefully picked my way to the carriage. Mrs. Graham and Susan waited therein. One glance at my friend’s face was sufficient to convince me that she felt the same exhilaration of spirits that I myself could hardly contain.
The brief ride to our destination had no very soothing effect upon either of us, and we arrived with nerves still on edge. As Susan and I entered the crowded ballroom, arm in arm for mutual support, Mr. Graham had a word with the master of ceremonies. An august personage with a fitting appellation, Mr. King reigned over the dance, directing decorum and introductions as he saw fit. In his hands rested the power to dash or delight the hopes of all the young ladies in the room, including my friend and myself.
We counted ourselves fortunate to find seats where we could view the large company engaged in the spectacle of the dance. Once settled, I cast my eyes over the throng, looking for the gentleman I had encountered that afternoon on the street. I saw instead Mr. King approaching with quite a different person at his side. The young man had a pleasing countenance but was rather shorter than average, giving me one more reason to hope that he was intended for my petite friend instead of for me. Unfortunately, that was not the case, as I soon discovered. Mr. King, with proper formality, introduced Mr. George Ramsey to me as my partner for the next dance. I smiled as graciously as possible, and allowed him to lead me out onto the floor for a quadrille.
Had I not already been entertaining thoughts of someone else, I would no doubt have found Mr. Ramsey’s company completely acceptable, even agreeable. He was an excellent dancer, and he expressed himself well in conversation. After politely inquiring about my home and family, he in turn informed me that he lived in London, where he was a student of the law. If I could not have the partner I had envisioned – and he was nowhere to be seen – Mr. Ramsey would do as well as any other and probably better than most, I decided.
By the commencement of the next dance, Susan had been provided a partner as well. His name was Mr. Cox, as I later learned. The pair of them stood up together in the same set with Mr. Ramsey and myself. Soon the lively music and the animated scene captured my spirit completely. I set aside my reservations and threw myself altogether into the fray, feeling the satisfaction of exhausting my excess energy by means of the vigorous exercise. Thus we continued until the break.
At tea, Susan and I introduced our partners to the others in our group. Whilst Mr. and Mrs. Graham engaged the young men in conversation, I had opportunity for a few moments’ private discourse with my friend.
“What a lucky girl you are, my dear,” whispered Susan. “You have made another splendid conquest. Mr. Ramsey appears very agreeable, and oh so handsome too.”
“Do you really think so, Susan? He is pleasant enough, I agree, but hardly the man I had in mind, as you well know.”
“In that case, would you consider switching partners? Mr. Ramsey may not be your first choice, but I believe he will do very well for me.”
I had no very high hopes for finding Mr. Cox any more to my personal taste than my first partner. Still, seeing Susan’s excitement at the chance to further her acquaintance with Mr. Ramsey, I willingly acceded to her plan. Advancing my friend’s happiness seemed a worthwhile and more achievable goal for the evening than accomplishing my own. The gentlemen made no objection when changing partners was proposed, and Mrs. Graham firmly supported the idea.
“Yes, by all means, make the change. It would not do to start tongues wagging by keeping too long to one partner,” she reminded us stridently. “I cannot speak to what may be acceptable in other places, but where we come from, it simply is not done.”
So it was settled accordingly. When the orchestra struck up a fresh tune, we made our way back onto the floor, keeping side by side in the set for maximum companionship. Mr. Cox danced nearly as well as Mr. Ramsey, and his address was pleasing enough. Nevertheless, his society held no particular charm for me.
We had been about our business several minutes when Susan caught my attention with a small gesture toward the room’s main entrance. There the gentleman so earnestly sought before could be seen surveying the company. The dance presently carried me in his direction, and I felt my embarrassment increase as the distance between us narrowed. I attempted to keep my eyes averted. Yet, when I passed so near to where he stood that we could almost have shaken hands, I looked up to find his gaze fastened upon me. He smiled and gave me a nod of recognition before my partner and I were swept away again.
I caught only a glimpse or two more of the handsome stranger during the course of my obligation to Mr. Cox. When I was free to look about myself thereafter, he was nowhere to be seen.
“You are a little flushed, my dear,” said Mrs. Graham upon my return to our seats. “You must be fatigued from all this exertion. Do sit down and rest yourself. Mr. Graham has gone to the card room, so you shall keep me company for a little while, until you recover your strength.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Graham. I believe I shall,” I agreed, sitting down as instructed. “I am suddenly quite weary indeed.”
“I cannot catch Susan’s eye or I would direct her to do the same.”
“No. I believe Mr. Ramsey claims her full attention.”
“Well, he seems a nice young man, and I am glad Susan is enjoying herself.”
I sat o
ut the next two dances on the chance that the gentleman who had so thoroughly captured my interest might return with Mr. King to be introduced and claim my hand. He did not. In fact, I saw nothing more of him that night, rendering the evening sadly lackluster in my final estimation.
Mr. Graham returned from the card room to join us when the dance was almost over. “Well, Miss Walker,” said he directly, “I hope you have had an agreeable ball.”
“Very agreeable indeed,” I replied, vainly endeavoring to hide a great yawn.
9
An Introduction
I stayed behind from the daily pilgrimage to the Pump-room next morning for the purpose of fulfilling my sworn obligation to Agnes, that of sending her a long, newsy letter. Having written before about the town, the shops, the Pump-room, and our acquaintance with the Graham family, the body of this missive could be devoted to the proceedings of the previous night. I flatter myself that I waxed quite lyrical about the scene at the Lower Rooms, describing in detail the look of the place, the finery of the ladies, the quality of the music, and the liveliness of the dancing – all subjects that I knew would be of special interest to my friend. I fancied what Agnes would ask if she could.
“What gown did you wear, Jo? Tell me about the size of the room and the look of the people there. Was it as grand as we have heard? Were there enough gentlemen to go round? The ladies were all dressed very elegantly, I suppose, in the latest fashions from London and Paris. How large and how many were the sets of dancers? Did you see anyone of your acquaintance? Tell me all about your partners!”
I answered each of these imagined inquiries as thoroughly as possible, the last question being the most difficult of which to give a satisfactory account, my partners having been so distinctly unremarkable from my own point of view. I omitted any mention of the man to whom I compared them, against whom they came up curiously wanting in my mind. Instead, I gave each one credit on his own merit, with Mr. Ramsey receiving the best review for pleasing Susan so well.
For Myself Alone: A Jane Austen Inspired Novel Page 5