Her eyes twinkled and she returned the squeeze. “You are always most welcome, Mr. Kent.”
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Despite his full social life, James was feeling the anxiety of leaving yet another home. For despite his uncle’s coldness, which had dissipated somewhat since Miss McElroy’s dinner party, he had become accustomed to the town house and his life here in London. Although quite different from his home in Glasgow, it had its own rhythm and he knew where he fit in that rhythm. Now, once again, he would be leaving for Shropshire and would have to get used to yet another location and he was not sure what that would entail. It was not as if he didn’t like new things, seeing new places and meeting new people, but he did like a solid home base. He supposed his parents were responsible for his sense of a home base, emphasized by his mother’s family in Scotland. To a certain degree, even Dahlia and her family also contributed to his desire for a permanent home. He remembered how comfortable he felt on his short visit to Cirencester, seeing all the families with established estates and the community which grew up around them.
His mother’s family was not at all pleased with her choice of husband, but they had not shunned her and her children either. Based on a great estate at the foot of the Scottish highlands that dated back to medieval times, Annabelle’s family was desperately trying to maintain the castle and grounds despite increasing taxes and decreasing yields from the land. Known as Kestrel Keep for the fierce bird that figured prominently in the family crest and populated the heights, the estate housed an extended family that included his grandparents and several of his maternal aunts and uncles and their families. He always loved visiting these relatives and exploring the Middle Age castle with all its twists and turns, secret passages, and various extensions and additions constructed, somewhat haphazardly, over the centuries. Thinking about the castle, James wondered if perhaps that is where his interest in architecture began. It had elements of Roman and Norman architecture, Gothic gargoyles, and a blunt but effective Medieval Scottish tower. It seemed his grandfather knew the history of each stone, but had masked the architecture lessons in fantastic tales of each conquering people or clan that had shaped the keep.
It had been at least three years since James had been to the castle, and over a year since he had seen his mother and siblings. He had been eager to leave then. Now, he wondered when he would see them again.
Sitting at his desk overlooking the street, dusted in a light snow, James pulled out paper and pen to write to his mother. He first took care of the perfunctory inquiries for her health and that of his brothers and sisters. He mentioned simply that he thought of them often and hoped to see them in the New Year. He knew his mother would understand he was missing them without saying anything more.
He also told her of his trip to Shropshire – without going into details about how or why that had been arranged. He also mentioned the dinner party at Miss McElroy’s and his uncle’s old friends and queried her about his uncle when he was younger, trying to gain insight into what might have changed his disposition so.
He carefully folded the letter and affixed his seal. He put the letter aside to be posted in the morning. Then, he left the house to see Daisy.
Chapter 20
The day James left for Shropshire, Dahlia arrived in London. Having received an overwhelmingly positive response from Miss McElroy regarding her ‘entourage,’ she, Lady Sweet, and Matilda all took the train amidst lightly falling snow. When they arrived in London, everything was covered in a thin blanket of white. To Dahlia, it seemed to clean up the city’s appearance. The air, muffled from the snow, seemed to dampen the cacophony she normally experienced from the moment she stepped off the train. Matilda was wide-eyed at the people, the buildings, and the sheer magnitude of everything.
“Surely you’ve been to cities in Ireland, Matty,” said Dahlia, amused by her maid’s reaction.
“Oh, aye Miss, but even Dublin is not half as fine as this,” she replied. Next to her, Matty kept looking up and around at everything, and kept bumping into the Londoners bustling about. Dahlia always wondered at the hectic pace they maintained – always somewhere to go, something to do, and always at top speed. She smiled as each person became a black note in her mind, zipping across a music page in a staccato fashion. The music Dahlia heard – and saw – changed to longer trumpet notes when Miss McElroy came into view outside the station. She had a broad smile on her face, which was framed by a magnificent hat with green and blue feathers in it.
“There you are my dear Dahlia!” There was no questioning the warmth in her singsong address, which Dahlia guessed at least fifty people must have heard. Dahlia was embraced in a hug that threatened to squeeze the breath out of her, and it felt good. The ceremonious hugs given by the Gaggle were so delicate they could hardly be felt at all.
Miss McElroy greeted Lady Sweet with a curtsy but as soon as the protocol was completed, she grasped her hands and told her how pleased she was to have her in the party and exclaimed how much fun they were going to have showing Dahlia all the “big girl” delights of London. Dahlia didn’t know what was meant by “big girl” delights, but she hardly imagined they were anything more than the same teas and luncheons young girls were expected to attend, but with older people. She somehow expected, however, that whatever Miss McElroy had planned would not be ordinary, especially given the twinkle in her eye.
Matilda remained behind Dahlia and Lady Sweet as was fitting a maid’s station, but Miss McElroy would not be satisfied with this. “And you must be Matty, the one who, according to Dahlia’s letters, is the queen of coifs!” Miss McElroy took her hands and pulled her forward to be inspected. “I am so pleased you have come. Have you brought a ball gown?”
Matilda looked perplexed as to why a maid would bring a ball gown. Seeing her expression, Miss McElroy continued without needing an answer. “No matter. We’ll have one made for you, no pun intended. How else would you get to see all the London hair styles at the ball? You must take note so you have more ideas when you return home. But let’s not talk about your leaving when you’ve only just arrived.”
Since no one could get a word in edgewise, the three women allowed themselves to be corralled into a waiting carriage and whisked off to Miss McElroy’s residence. Even in the carriage, she continued to talk, pointing out landmarks and explaining who lived where and why the ladies needed to be introduced to them while they were in London. Despite her numerous trips to London, Dahlia felt like she were seeing it for the first time because of all the information Miss McElroy gave. She looked across the carriage at Lady Sweet, who looked amused, then at Matilda, who still wore an expression of surprise and wonder.
Miss McElroy ensured the women were comfortably lodged in her guest rooms, then left them to rest until dinner. Although Matilda had her own servant’s room adjacent to Dahlia’s, she, too, was invited to join Lady Sweet and Dahlia at Miss McElroy’s magnificent dining room table. When Matilda tried to protest, Miss McElroy flatly refused to listen. “Our stations in life,” she said, “are like those of a train. Just because we habitually get off at one, does not mean we shouldn’t stop at the others and have a look around from time to time!”
Matilda accepted her hostess’ invitation, but once she had left the room, she looked questioningly at Dahlia and Lady Sweet. Both insisted they had no issue with her joining them. Sharon approved of Matilda becoming more of a companion to Dahlia than just a lady’s maid. It was, in fact, part of the reason she had chosen Matilda from among the candidates she had interviewed. She knew that Dahlia needed a woman close to her age at Talbot Hall, and she suspected Josephine had the same idea.
Dahlia was grateful when she finally was alone in her guestroom, a beautiful bedroom and sitting room done in shades of gold and peach and cream beiges. It had been a long day of travel, conversation, and anticipation. Before she left, her brothers Mark and Leland had written to say they had arrived in London safely and were to be entertained by James Kent that evening as planned. The l
etter had included greetings to all the Talbots, but he had not called out Dahlia. She had supposed that was proper, and knew she would see him when she arrived in London the following week. She didn’t want to admit how anxious she felt at the prospect of seeing him again. Thankfully, she had not had a moment to think of him all day, except in fleeting moments, until now. She sat on the bed, already turned down for her to nap. It was then she saw the letter on the bed stand. Her name was written on it in very elegant hand. She thought she recognized it, but couldn’t place it. She opened it immediately, curious. She glanced down at the signature first. James! Her eyes darted back to the salutation to read the missive in full.
Dearest Dahlia,
First, you must forgive the timing of this letter. I would have liked for you to receive it earlier, but having consulted with Miss McElroy, I was convinced to leave it in her care rather than put you in the inconsiderate position of receiving a letter from a gentleman and perhaps having to explain it to your father. By the time you read this, I will have left London…
Dahlia’s heart sank. Left London?
…as my uncle has arranged for an internship with a well-known architect. I am for Shropshire to do the preliminary site survey and plans for a new manor house in Little Ness. Despite the valuable opportunity this trip presents to me, I would have put it off, were it in my power to do so, in order to have the pleasure of seeing you again. Alas, the preliminary team has its schedule and I must abide by it. I therefore leave you in the capable hands of the incomparable Miss McElroy to show you the best of society during your stay.
I regret missing the opportunity to see you and hear your angelic voice. Wishing for you all the best during your visit, and for me, the opportunity to see you again in the near future. I remain very faithfully yours,
James Duncan Kent
Any thoughts Dahlia had of a restful nap were immediately dashed. She jumped up and walked about the room with the letter in her hand. Blast him for leaving when he knew she was coming to London! She looked down at the letter again, then crumpled it up. Her brothers had had at least four to five days with James and now she had none! It wasn’t fair! She had stopped walking in front of the mirror and, looking up at her reflection, noted she was pouting. Pouting! That was something the girls in the Gaggle did! It was not what Dahlia Talbot did.
She threw the crumpled letter at the wastebasket, but it hit the rim and fell behind the curtains. This made her even angrier. She turned her back on the missed ball of paper and went straight to the bed and lay down, determined to get some rest before dinner despite the music in her head that used only the black keys on the piano. James Kent was nothing to her and certainly no one to lose sleep over!
Two hours later, Dahlia came down to dinner. Both Miss McElroy and Lady Sweet thought she looked tired and a bit cross. Lady Sweet thought it was because of a long day’s travel. Miss McElroy knew it was because of the letter.
Chapter 21
James was tired. His trip from London to Shropshire was twice as long as Dahlia’s was from Cirencester to the city. The entire first leg of the trip he couldn’t help but think their trains were literally passing one another and every time a train from the opposite direction passed his he stared out the window to catch a glimpse of her. Of course he never saw her. Except at the stations, the trains were moving too quickly for him to really focus on the occupants. But he looked just the same. Silly of him, he knew, but the thought of Dahlia always brought a smile to his face and seeing her always brought a smile to his soul.
Night had fallen and his train sped through countryside he could not see. He guessed that Dahlia was safely ensconced within Miss McElroy’s warm hospitality, and that she had received and read his letter. He hoped she was disappointed, at least for a short while before Miss McElroy’s social schedule took over all her attention. He smiled as he thought of the aging singer. She certainly could manipulate people and situations! Then he stopped smiling entirely. What if Miss McElroy had planned more than just teas and dinners to occupy her guests? What if she actually planned to distract Dahlia with another young man? No, he told himself. She wouldn’t do that. Dahlia was too young, and Miss McElroy knew of his regard for the young prodigy. Dahlia was going to the Valentine’s Day Ball, however. It would be just like Miss McElroy to find someone to dance with Dahlia since most of the attendees would be arriving as pairs. It would be the gracious thing for her hostess to see to, and Miss McElroy had proven herself to always be the perfect hostess. James tried to think of the guests he had met at some of her dinners in the past month, but no one came to mind as a potential candidate to escort Dahlia to the ball.
James laughed and shook his head. Miss McElroy and Dahlia were going to be at the ball to perform and Lady Sweet was accompanying them. Most likely there would be no escorts for any of them. Miss McElroy was well known in all high society circles and didn’t need an escort as she was always surrounded by men and women eager to speak with her, congratulate her on her latest performance, or curry favor to get an invite to one of her dinner parties. All three ladies would be constantly surrounded by people – but no one in particular.
Feeling better, James leaned back and tried to catch some sleep. Snippets of memories of Dahlia flitted through his brain as his train sped through the dark night.
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As James had suspected, Miss McElroy had filled the days of Dahlia’s stay with myriad events. They were balanced equally between engagements with Miss McElroy’s acquaintances and just the four women – for Matilda was included in just about everything. Lady Sweet seemed to be enjoying herself enormously and Dahlia wondered if perhaps she was a bit lonely for companionship in Cirencester. She claimed Dahlia was one of her closest friends, but before now, Dahlia had never thought about the fact that their difference in age favored Dahlia. Lady Sweet was a confidant to whom Dahlia could bring any problem or question. Lady Sweet, on the other hand, would, she guessed, not be able or comfortable to broach many subjects with Dahlia. To whom did she talk of marital issues, for example. Or running a household? Mrs. Parkinson was quite a bit older than Lady Sweet, and Mr. Standford’s sister Alyce didn’t socialize with anyone. Dahlia supposed there were ladies enough throughout Gloucester and in Cirencester proper, but she had not heard Lady Sweet speak of any of them in particular more than the others.
As Dahlia saw her friend and Miss McElroy interact, Dahlia felt both happiness that they seemed to get on so well and sadness that she had never taken notice of how lonely Lady Sweet must feel back home. She also felt a little selfish for her lack of notice concerning someone for whom she claimed to care so much. She resolved to speak with Miss McElroy about it to see if perhaps she would visit Cirencester more often to be a more regular friend to Lady Sweet. The trouble was getting to speak with Miss McElroy without Lady Sweet there.
The opportunity presented itself on Dahlia’s third day in London. Miss McElroy and Dahlia were to go to the concert hall to practice with the orchestra that would be playing at the ball. Lady Sweet claimed she would use the free time to write letters and Matilda was “finally going to be able to do her job,” as she put it, of pressing Dahlia’s gowns.
So it was that the two singers were to spend the whole of the afternoon alone together. Miss McElroy had planned for the two to have lunch together first in a “very bohemian café filled with entertainers.”
The Café du Chat was very different from the elegant restaurants where she had taken her guests over the course of the past several days. As they entered the café, Dahlia noticed the difference in the clientele immediately. They were mostly very young, beautiful people dressed very colorfully with daring cuts to the dresses and very avante guard fashions for the men. They were also a much louder crowd than what Miss McElroy called “polite society.” These people laughed aloud instead of in titters, called to their friends across the room, and seemed to burst out in song or poetry spontaneously. Instead of being shocked, Dahlia found the environment fresh and amusing a
nd exciting. There was a piano somewhere in the back of the café where someone started to play a lively tune, and Dahlia couldn’t help noticing that the tempo of the song was exactly what her mind had conjured upon entering the establishment. She smiled, happy at Miss McElroy’s choice of lunch venue.
The maitre d’ spotted the newcomers and literally danced his way towards the door, flamboyantly calling out each syllable of Miss McElroy’s name as he did so.
“Miss Josephine McElroy! You honor us to with your presence today!”
With his loud, French-accented greeting, many heads turned to see the woman at Dahlia’s side. She guessed the maitre d’ did this quite purposefully to announce each guest of renown who came in. Miss McElroy seemed to know this, too, and expect it.
“You are looking quite manifique today.”
“Ah, Pierre, you are quite as soothing to a lady’s vanity as a long, cool drink to a parched – and much too sober – alcoholic!” She laughed as he took both her hands and kissed them – loudly. Dahlia almost giggled at the pleasant absurdity.
“And who is your delightful young companion? She is quite pretty enough to be an actress – look at that gorgeous complexion! Where is she opening?” Pierre ogled, staring quite openly at Dahlia.
“The Royal Palace,” said Josephine, and Dahlia could see she was enjoying the shock on Pierre’s face.
“The Royal…Palace?” The maitre d’ looked from Josephine to Dahlia and back again. “You are making a joke on me, no?”
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