Mark, twenty, was the oldest of the Talbot boys and quite obviously the favorite among all the girls. Very tall and slender, he certainly cut a dashing figure in his party clothes, Dahlia had to admit. Her father, she told the girls, had bought him a commission in the Army. She thought this would impress them as much as they talked about officers, but they all seemed highly distressed that this very eligible bachelor, heir to the Talbot estate, would be leaving the county. Apparently, these girls valued his proximity to home and hearth over his future rank in the military.
Leland, a year younger than Mark, was destined for the church and would begin his theological studies in the spring. This apparently was considered a very good profession by the Gaggle – both in terms of potential earnings and lifestyle. While she could not see her very witty brother turning into a stodgy old man before his time like Vicar Jacobs, she had never considered churchmen very good matches – probably because she knew most clergy would not think her very dutiful or ladylike as portrayed by the sermons they gave. She certainly had a lot to learn and the Gaggle was being most helpful and instructive in this regard.
Steven was seventeen and just as gallant and charming as her “infatuation.” She also noted that Steven was just as amiable and attentive as Mr. Kent had been to her, only Steven was not very particular in his attentions. He lavished his charms on every girl he encountered. She had always admired Steven’s popularity and ability to make everyone feel special, but now it only cast doubts on the special attention Mr. Kent had bestowed on her. It also put into context Lady Sweet’s comment regarding infatuations among the young being quite commonplace. Her infatuation with Mr. Kent may not be commonplace, but his very likely was – if Mr. Kent was like her brother Steven.
Michael was the shy one of the family and, though a year older than Tom and a year younger than Steven, always appeared younger than either. He was bookish and serious, allowing the others to outdo him in gregariousness, pranks, and sports. He seemed content with himself and was not going to try and compete with his four brothers. He would often sit and read while Dahlia was at the piano or practicing other instruments. For all the hours she played and composed, Michael must have read every book in the Talbots’ extensive library. With respect to the Gaggle’s opinion of him, they found Michael’s shy, introverted nature a challenge. They delighted in making him blush. Dahlia was very interested in this aspect of female behavior. The girls loved good looks and the flirting Steven doled out generously to all which they accepted with down-laden eyes as if they were meek and shy. Then, with a boy like Michael, they became aggressive as if the tables were turned and he were the prey and they the huntresses! Such back and forth, push and pull between the sexes was like the surge and retreat of the ocean. This game was complex indeed, and Dahlia didn’t know if she would ever master it. She preferred honesty and forthrightness, both of which did not appear to be strategies of the game.
Tom, the youngest of the brothers at fifteen, seemed to share Dahlia’s preference for acting as you felt – for saying what you meant and meaning what you said. He wasn’t rude, of course, any more than Dahlia, but he did not seem to lavish praise on every girl or talk in pretty euphemisms. Tom and Dahlia were the closest of the siblings, not just due to their ages, but Tom was the true horseman of all the brothers. With Peter Talbot as their father, they were all accomplished riders and comfortable around horses, but it was Tom and Dahlia who inherited their father’s passion for the animals. Tom appeared to have the gene for recognizing exceptional breeding lines as well and looked to have become the heir apparent to running the estate regardless of the laws of land inheritance.
This seemed to suit everyone just fine. Peter Talbot had raised his boys to excel in whatever their chosen profession – he would not dictate who would do what. “Forcing a man into a profession of someone else’s choosing is like forcing a marriage between two people who don’t even like one another: it will only lead to misery,” he always said. So, in contrast to the custom, each of the Talbot brothers developed their own interests according to their tastes, and it was Dahlia’s youngest brother, not the eldest, who would succeed his father in managing the Talbot estate and horse breeding business. This put Tom in high regard with many of the local girls who wished to be mistress of the grand, grey stone Elizabethan-style house known as Talbot Hall.
Dahlia felt exhausted after each party now. There was so much to learn, and she felt quite behind in her education of the interaction between the sexes within society. There were unspoken rules from an unwritten handbook that seemed to perpetuate from one generation to the next by word of mouth – mother to daughter, sister to sister, aunt to niece. Since Dahlia had no mother, sisters, or aunts, she was at a disadvantage. She was trying to catch up on a lifetime of guidance with respect to flirtation, innuendo, fashion, and the political maneuvering within society through marriage that was a woman’s only real profession and means of advancement.
Not only was it a lot to absorb, but Dahlia truly felt most of it was ridiculous. She went through the parties sorting all information into two categories: one was useful information she could act on, and the other was nonsense she knew full well her disposition would never permit her to exercise.
Because much of the discussion amongst the Gaggle was contradictory, Dahlia felt the need for an arbitrator. She would seek out Lady Sweet and ask her opinion on what she had learned. Sharon had noticed Dahlia’s attempts to join in the female circles upon their return from London. She had also noted how she had been turned away, only to be beckoned back when that rejection had sent her back to her brothers and their male friends. Then, the amusement really started for Sharon as she would inconspicuously watch Dahlia’s expressions and reactions to what the girls were discussing, and Dahlia’s forays across the room the groups of boys with her brothers and back again to the girls. In her usual manner, Sharon waited with patience for Dahlia to seek out her counsel rather than intruding and giving it unbidden. It took only three parties. The morning after the third party, a messenger came asking Sharon if she could come over for tea. A return message was sent to say she’d be delighted, and for Dahlia to bring her gown for that evening’s ball so she could dress at the Sweets and they would escort her to the grand occasion at Cirencester Park, the estate of the Earl of Bathurst. This pleased Dahlia enormously. She had been to the great Christmas Ball at the Park and sung every year since she was five, but this year she considered the event very differently. This year she would be among the Gaggle, not just a talented child to be admired, then dismissed. This year she felt she would truly partake of the event as it was seen by her new friends – one of the society highlights of the year!
Dahlia carefully packed up her things for the ball, then asked for her horse to be saddled and brought to the door. Her father heard the request and came into the hall from his study.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take the carriage, Dahlia?” He said, looking out the window to check the weather.
“No, father. I’ll make better time on horseback. And there isn’t enough snow to make the roads slippery.”
Peter Talbot smiled at his daughter, knowing his daughter gave this assessment on what he had taught her about knowing the conditions of the ground when riding and how it could affect the well being of the horse’s legs. For all their strength and speed, their long legs were their greatest weakness and prone to injuries due to bad footing.
“All right then, child. Be safe. We’ll see you at the ball,” he said and kissed her on the top of her head. She smiled at him and put her hat on. According to her new friends, it was not a very fashionable hat, but for riding in December it was certainly appropriate.
One of the grooms tied her satchel to the saddle and gave her a leg up. She had a special riding skirt on that let her ride astride without showing too much of her lower appendages which society seemed to think obscene. She only wore the special skirts when riding off the property. Everyone living and working on the property were quit
e used to the girl wearing breeches when she was training or exercising the horses.
Dahlia waved to her father, who was watching her through his study window, then headed off in the direction of the Sweets’ estate to the north. It was an easy ride with a good road winding its way for the vast majority of the trip. Cirencester was once the second largest population center in Britain under the Romans – Corinium Dobunnorum as it was known then. As a result, there were plenty of good roads throughout the county and the ports on the River Severn had been used for millennium. The infrastructure here was as good as that in and around London. That included the addition of the railways, built to the north, south and west of the properties held by the Quartermasters. They all had wondered why the two railway companies – the Cheltenham and Great Western Union Railway and the Birmingham and Gloucester Railway – had not decided to go through the properties. As her father explained it, they were lucky for the large hill they affectionately called a mountain found directly in the middle of their collective holdings as the expense of leveling or tunneling through it was greater than going around it. The railway companies chose the least expensive and most direct path between major hubs as possible, which precluded the Quartermasters’ estates.
Whatever the reason, Dahlia was glad of it. She could not complain of the convenience of the iron horses, but didn’t want the smoke and noise of them interrupting her beautiful countryside. The air was cold and clear; the grays and muted greens and browns of winter blended into a soothing landscape. The gently rolling hills served to generate many new compositions as she mentally overlaid the lines of a blank sheet of music and mapped the rise and fall of the landscape in terms of notes. Every view had a different tune, and each one worked. Although she had been composing music based on nature since she was a little girl, it never ceased to amaze her how perfectly nature’s visual appearance translated into music as mankind transcribed it on paper. Add nature’s own music to the compositions it prescribed – bird calls, wind, rain, thunder, and even the beat of her horse’s hooves – and Dahlia was awash with symphony. It was so glorious that she could not imagine not hearing it. She knew, however, that everyone did not view the world as she did, in such musical terms. No one, it seemed, heard what Dahlia heard until she played it for them. She certainly had asked all her brothers, her music instructors, the housekeeper, and Lady Sweet. There were varying degrees of understanding of her perceptions, but none could own experiencing it.
So she passed the pair of hours engrossed in her own world of visual and auditory delights.
The Sweets’ large brick manor was shaped in the form of a large U, with the grand entrance cradled inside it. Dahlia rode up to the impressive stone steps and was met immediately by a porter who helped her dismount. She knew he would grab her bag and a groom would appear out of nowhere to take her horse to the stables. As she started up the steps, she thought about the efficiency she always enjoyed at the Sweet estate, but couldn’t really put her finger on why it seemed so much more elegant and efficient that her own home. They were of equal size, with more or less equal staff.
Lady Sweet was waiting for her in the grand foyer. She greeted her with a kiss and posed the question. “Why is it I am always so impressed when I come to your house, Lady Sweet?”
“Because you are a guest here, my dear.”
“Why should that make a difference?”
“Because when you are home, you are expected to do much more for yourself. Certainly your grooms wouldn’t think of taking your horse unless you asked them to. You’ve chided them too many times that to gain the respect of a horse you have to groom him and tack him yourself. So you insist on doing it yourself. When you come here, everything is done for you. Is that not the reason?”
“Yes, that must be it. Anyhow, I always love coming here and I am always impressed! Thank you for having me,” Dahlia said, beaming.
“And I thank you for the compliment. It takes quite a lot of coordination and management to ensure every need of our guests is anticipated and taken care of. At least in your case, I have succeeded.”
Dahlia thought about that as they went into the parlor. It was less formal than most of the rooms used for entertainment, but well appointed nonetheless. Lady Sweet used it for her friends when they called. It had a decidedly feminine feel to it, with shades of pink, burgundy, and hunter green in the floral draperies and upholstery. Two wooden carved chairs with high backs were covered in burgundy silk and placed in front of the fireplace, a pot of tea and two exquisite china settings were laid out. She and Dahlia each took a seat.
“Do you think I should take more of a role in running our household, Lady Sweet?” Dahlia said as the tea was poured.
Sharon smiled. The girl’s mind was a wonder. “Do you ask because I took pleasure in the compliment?”
“Well, yes. I really hadn’t thought about how a household is managed, what it takes to make everything work day in and day out. I know it isn’t by magic, but…I don’t even know who runs my household. Father must not have time to do it, or does he?”
Lady Sweet knew Dahlia was thinking that there was no official lady of the house at the Talbots since her mother had died. “Your father has done an admirable job, and he relies on Glenda of course.” She referred to the Talbot’s housekeeper.
“Should I be doing more to run the house, Lady Sweet?” It was one of the things she had wanted to ask Lady Sweet regarding the discrepancies in what she heard in the Gaggle. “Some of my friends say that if you hire proper servants, they will know how to do it. Others say they will direct all of the servants’ activities. Which is right?”
Sharonsmiled and took a sip of tea before answering. “Both. You just have to do what is best for your situation. You are still young, Dahlia, but it is not too soon to start learning what it is to run a household. You will grow into the lady of the house at Talbot Hall, unless your father remarries, which I doubt he will. But you want your own household one day, too, don’t you?”
“You mean when I get married,” she asked. “I hadn’t thought about any other house than the one I have,” she said honestly. Then, sidetracked, she said, “Why don’t you think my father will ever remarry?”
“He loved your mother very much, Dahlia. Theirs was not an arranged marriage; it was based on true affection for one another. Luckily, their situations were conducive to the union. He took your mother’s death very hard,” her face looked pained as she remembered her friend, and the agony Peter Talbot suffered when she died. “There are some men, some people, who believe fate only affords us one great love. Many others believe love is not limited to a single person in a lifetime. Since your father has not even looked twice at the same woman in all these years, I think he falls into the category of the former.”
“Would you remarry if the situation was yours, Lady Sweet?”
“I don’t know, Dahlia. Pray God I’m never faced with that decision. It is different for women, of course. There are rare circumstances that allow a woman to own property, and fewer opportunities for us to support ourselves financially. We are more dependent on marriage for survival than for love.”
“I earn money from my singing and from training horses,” said Dahlia hopefully, not liking the choices presented.
“Your singing is a blessing that would be beneficial in dire circumstances, but you will not be able to train the horses much longer.” This surprised Dahlia.
“Why ever not? I’m better than most men at it!”
“You are indeed, my dear. But it is not a fit occupation for a lady, and you cannot wear breeches as a grown woman to ride them properly astride.”
Dahlia was crestfallen. She almost wished she had not come. Then she would not have heard, from a woman whose advice she valued and knew to be true, that her two greatest passions in her life could be taken away from her as a means of support.
Too late, Sharon realized the trail of their conversation and where it would lead the bright girl next to her. “Don’t worry y
ourself, Dahlia. You are asking a lot of ‘what if’ questions and we have no idea what will pass in your life or when. Your father adores you, and relies on you with the horses. No doubt you will continue to train on the estate for some time to come. And you will continue to sing and delight everyone who hears you for years and years. I was thinking more in terms of what will happen when you get married. Your husband may well support you in both things. You just have to find the right one.”
This seemed to appease Dahlia, who brightened at mention of finding a husband and brought dozens of questions to the front of her mind, crowding out all negative ‘what if’ thoughts.
Two hours later, the ladies retired upstairs to prepare for the ball. Lady Sweet had arranged for a bath for Dahlia. The tub, steaming in a bright yellow and white room, was filled with rose petals and perfumed soap was laid out for her to use. She certainly did enjoy being a guest.
Chapter 9
Lady Sweet had sent a maid to help Dahlia dress and do her hair. This was an unaccustomed luxury with which Dahlia did not exactly know how to deal. She felt a bit useless as the maid picked up every garment and held it for her to step into. As the maid was buttoning her boots, she couldn’t hold it in any longer and said, “I can do that.”
The maid looked stricken. “But miss, it’s my job.”
Once adorned in a pretty dark green frock with cream lace trim that Dahlia considered just a bit too heavy on the frills for her taste, the maid asked how she wanted her hair done. Dahlia once again felt awkward and unsure. She didn’t know what to say.
“I, er, what do you think?” she asked, looking at the maid in the vanity mirror.
“Oh, miss,” the maid became quite animated at having her opinion sought. “I think a partial up-twist with a braid ‘round your pretty face would be quite becoming. ‘Twould set off your fairy eyes.” As she talked she picked up pieces of Dahlia’s hair, twisting here, pulling strands there in what Dahlia thought was supposed to give her an idea of what she meant. She had no idea.
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