by Judith Laik
On the carriage ride to The Castle, Libbetty tingled all over and her stomach fluttered as they alighted onto the flagstoned driveway. Evening sun tinged the Palladian front a roseate hue, warming its cold formality. She shivered and drew her shawl around her. She would have felt easier had they arrived by the picturesque, crumbling archway, but she shook off the quivers. Her qualms about her first adult party certainly had heightened the forbidding impression.
Dr. and Mrs. Hayes seemed in perfect equanimity, but Tom’s hazel eyes glanced around restlessly and he was pale.
Libbetty moved as if in a dream up the steps toward the door guarded by two liveried footmen. She recalled her mother’s tale of a Cinder Girl who went to a ball and captured the heart of a prince. She imagined herself in the role. She might capture Lord Cauldreigh, who naturally played the prince.
What story would Lord Neil feature in? He’s Lancelot. Nonsense—where did such a thought spring from?
They had passed beyond the footmen and the towering doors and entered the awe-inspiring hall. Tom stopped dead and stared up, amazed. “By Jove!”
“Haven’t you seen this part of The Castle before?”
“No, I’ve always met Cauldreigh out back by the stables. This is bigger than a church.”
A formally attired butler greeted them, inquiring if they wished to shed their wraps. As they mounted the stairs, Tom’s face suddenly stilled. Libbetty followed his gaze up the curving stairway to Edwina, standing with her family.
Libbetty’s party joined the Hogwoods outside the first-floor reception room. Other people stood outside the doorway, blocking entry. Two tall doors framed a view into a high-ceilinged room. Libbetty could hear an orchestra playing one of Mozart’s compositions.
The Hogwoods and the Hayes-Bishop party exchanged greetings. Tom focused his attention all upon Edwina, who blushed and avoided his eyes. Her gown in rose pink, a deeper shade than the usual pastels for debutantes, brightened Edwina’s delicate coloring and lent her a bloom not conferred by her quiet personality.
Tom gazed at her with the expression of a starving beggar. Libbetty could scarcely blame him. Edwina looked enchanting, but her beauty was a lure intended for another man.
A few of the guests moved inside the room, enabling Libbetty to catch her first glance of the salon. Lord Cauldreigh greeted his guests, looking healthy and happy. Libbetty’s heart leapt when she saw Lord Neil, tall and aristocratic, standing farther back. It’s just fear, she told herself.
Jonathan Colton and an unknown woman made up the remainder of the reception line. Libbetty studied the woman, envying her sophistication. About thirty years old, the incognita was a dark brunette, pretty in a flamboyant way. The skirts of her daringly low-cut blue gown clung to her curvaceous figure. Did she dampen her skirts?
Who was she? Mr. Colton’s wife? Mr. Colton’s betrothed—or perhaps Lord Neil’s? She seemed too old for a romantic attachment with Lord Cauldreigh. A gap opened in the crowd, so Libbetty’s group could enter the room.
The three Colton men presented a study in contrasts: Lord Cauldreigh dashing in a dark maroon coat with a flowered waistcoat in pale blue; Mr. Colton in sober dark blue, well cut, but even to Libbetty’s inexperienced eye less expensively tailored; and Lord Neil, in funereal black, but easily the most distinguished. Libbetty’s eyes treacherously disobeyed her commands to ignore Lord Neil as Lord Cauldreigh welcomed her.
“You already know my cousin, Jonathan,” he said.
Libbetty said the required pleasantries and moved along the line to Lord Neil and the woman beside him. “May I present Miss Bishop, Mrs. Dalrymple.”
“How do you do?” said the woman, but her eyes already darted past Libbetty to Tom.
“And this is her brother, Thomas Bishop. Mrs. Dalrymple,” Lord Neil continued.
Mrs. Dalrymple smiled at Tom, but Libbetty saw the interest die out of her eyes, perhaps thinking him too callow for her interest. Libbetty had no experience with such a sophisticated woman, but her stomach tightened, protective on Tom’s behalf as the older woman offered Tom her hand. He took it gingerly, stammering a few words, his former pallor swamped in red.
Lord Neil fixed Libbetty with his sardonic look and said, “So, you are all grown up. I am happy you could come tonight.”
Her cheeks heated, and she fidgeted, looking down, then squarely into his eyes. She would not let him put her at a disadvantage. “Thank you. Are you happy because your nephew wished to see me?”
“No. For your own sake. Your small crime did not justify such a severe punishment, and I’m glad it has been lifted.”
Libbetty stiffened, conflicting emotions, pleasure at his kind words, but a paradoxical wish to defend her father, swirling in her. “You are kind to take an interest in my affairs,” she finally managed.
Amusement glinted in his charcoal eyes. “Not at all.”
They moved past the receiving line. Libbetty drew a deep breath, away from Lord Neil’s disturbing presence. Behind her he introduced the Hayeses to Mrs. Dalrymple.
Still other guests arrived. Libbetty glanced to see Mr. Bassett and his daughters, then gave her attention to the setting. Perhaps thirty people occupied the beautifully proportioned and airy salon, which could have contained ten times that number.
With a sense of stepping into a fairy tale, Libbetty gazed about her. The last rays of the setting sun shone through four tall arched window alcoves hung with mint green brocade draperies that moved softly to the breeze blowing through the openings. Despite this light, candles blazing in the crystal chandeliers and mirrors spaced at intervals on the walls reflecting the light, dazzled Libbetty’s eyes. Out of sight, an orchestra played, in counterpoint to the low murmur of voices.
Libbetty knew few of the guests. She quelled a momentary urge to run back home, where everything was familiar. She fixed her attention on the Hogwoods, seated nearby in ribbon-back chairs of light wood upholstered in green-and-white striped silk. They conversed with another family—husband, wife and two daughters.
The two girls, although pretty, provided no competition for Edwina. One, a pallid blonde with a short, round figure, stood quietly. The other, slender with light brown hair, chattered animatedly. Both wore white gowns, the blonde girl’s adorned with flounces and pink bows, and the darker-haired one’s had blue trim.
Mrs. Hayes gathered up Libbetty and Tom. “Let me acquaint you with some of the guests.” She led them to the Hogwood group.
Mrs. Hayes greeted the other family, then said, “May I present to you Miss and Mr. Bishop. Lady and Sir Hubert Goforth and their daughters, Georgina and Clarissa.”
They exchanged courtesies. Clarissa, the darker one, said, “I do not recall seeing you at our assemblies in Crossfield.”
“No, we did not attend any this past spring.” Not wishing to admit she was not precisely out yet, Libbetty stopped short of further explanation.
Miss Clarissa did not seem curious. “I hope you may come when we resume them in the fall. We have a lively time.” With scarcely a break, she went on, “Isn’t it exciting? I never thought I’d actually be inside the walls of The Castle. Is the on dit about Lord Cauldreigh’s uncle really true? I vow, I can easily picture him as a murderer,” she went on, without giving anyone a chance to answer. “So sinister, isn’t he?”
Miss Goforth flushed at her younger sister’s tactlessness. “Clarrie,” she hissed.
“Indeed, my love,” Lady Goforth reproved. “One must not gossip about one’s host in this ill-bred manner.”
Miss Clarissa shrugged. “Well, everyone is discussing it.”
Mrs. Hayes said, “I see other guests whom my two young protégés must meet,” and towed Libbetty and Tom across the room. Libbetty glanced back to the doorway, where Lord Neil still stood greeting a few stragglers. He glanced over just then and cast her a smile that jolted her from across the room.
A formidable woman and a younger man stood by a pale green marble fireplace screened by a large fan of silver filigre
e work. Mrs. Hayes introduced them as Mrs. Murray and her son, Mr. Samuel Murray. Mrs. Murray’s silver-white hair and slender, ramrod-erect figure lent her an imposing air. Libbetty thought she must have possessed great beauty in her youth. She greeted the Bishops with condescension. The only trace of inheritance from his mother the massive and stolid Samuel Murray showed were large, lustrous brown eyes.
Mr. Bassett and his daughters approached their group, the Bassetts and the Murrays chatting for a while. To Libbetty’s surprise, aristocratic Mrs. Murray unbent and talked in an amiable manner with the plebeian Mr. Bassett.
Tom and Mr. Murray went to obtain refreshments for the ladies. While she waited, Libbetty glanced about. She still did not know everyone, but her apprehension eased.
Squire Hogwood, Sir Hubert and Dr. Hayes stood together talking, wineglasses in hand. Mr. Bassett joined them.
Mr. Murray rejoined Libbetty’s group. “I found an array of food most delectable-appearing, but I did not know what you would like. Perhaps you would like to go and choose for yourselves.”
Mrs. Murray and Mrs. Hayes declared their lack of appetite at that moment, but Libbetty went with the Misses Bassett to reconnoiter the food. Tom had already found his way there, heaping lobster patties, paper-thin slices of ham, and other delicacies upon his plate.
Squealing ecstatically, Irene followed suit. Tom looked up. “Hey, Lib, this is something like. You should try some.” He stuffed a dainty, paté-topped morsel of bread in his mouth.
Libbetty surveyed the food-laden table. “Do you think we are supposed to eat it?” she asked.
“Of course, ninnyhammer. Do you think the food is just to look at?”
“I didn’t mean that. I merely thought they may want to save it for later. We had our dinner just before we came, after all.”
“We ate hours ago.” Tom devoured a sliver of ham.
“I’m sure it is permissible to eat now.” Mr. Murray picked up a plate. “Tell me what you fancy.” Too nervous to eat, Libbetty chose a lobster patty, two slices of buttered bread and some pastries, and Mr. Murray prepared a plate for her. Laying aside his plate, Tom served Sybille Bassett.
Libbetty glanced around again as she began to nibble at her food, surprising an angry glare from Mrs. Murray. Startled, she almost dropped the Meissen china plate.
Mr. Murray coughed and flushed a deep red. “Excuse me.” He hurried to his mother’s side. The woman spoke to him, and he made his way to the Goforths and stood by Miss Georgina.
Libbetty exchanged glances with Tom, then looked away to avoid the contagion of his broad grin. Lord Neil, in company with an officer in scarlet uniform, converged upon Libbetty’s group and made introductions.
Captain Forsyth cut a dash in scarlet regimentals. He requested the honor of a dance later in the evening. Libbetty agreed, and Miss Bassett accepted for herself but explained that Irene did not dance. “Until later, ladies,” Captain Forsyth said, bowing and then sauntering to Mrs. Dalrymple’s side.
Two more London visitors joined Lord Neil and wasted no time soliciting the ladies’ hands for dances. Libbetty made a strong effort not to glance at Lord Neil. Miss Bassett, not sharing Libbetty’s shyness, shot him a coy look. “Do you not dance this evening also, Lord Neil?”
“Possibly.” His lips twitched with the same amusement reflected in his dark eyes.
The silence lengthened. Libbetty’s heart gave a curious flutter as she waited to hear what he answered. Would he ask to dance with Miss Bassett—and perhaps with her also?
Miss Bassett waved her fan. “If so, you should speak up lest all our dances will be bespoke.”
“As your host, I most sincerely hope your company will be in great demand. Such charming ladies as you,” his sardonic look included Libbetty, “unquestionably will have your hands solicited for all the dances. If you will excuse me.” He stepped away to speak to Lady Goforth and her daughters, leaving an air of awkwardness among the group who remained.
“Well!” said Sybille Bassett, two splotches of bright red staining her cheeks.
How could Miss Bassett’s have behaved in such a forward manner? Her audacity almost deserved Lord Neil’s set-down. She had as much as asked him to dance with her. Libbetty would never have dared do such a thing.
Still, Lord Neil had responded with discourtesy. Sybille Bassett’s face crumpled, near to tears. Libbetty’s throat tightened and no words came to her to comfort the young woman.
Lord Neil had not solicited Libbetty’s hand for a dance, either. All her imaginings of the evening party had included such an event, and without it, all her plans were set at naught. How was she to carry on her investigation if she had no chance to talk to him?
“Take no notice of him,” said one of the men, a tall gentleman with carrot-red hair and a lean, hawk-like face. “He does not care overmuch for dancing.”
Miss Bassett tittered and said, “I shan’t regard it.” She walked away, seeming serene, but Libbetty knew better.
Lord Cauldreigh strolled over to Libbetty. “I’ve requested the orchestra to play some contra dances. They will begin soon. Will you do me the honor of dancing the first set with me?”
She could not. Miss Bassett was upset. Libbetty should try to cheer her. “Should not someone else precede me, sir?”
“That may be,” he conceded. “I don’t care for all that falderal. I haven’t yet tried dancing on my game leg, and I won’t risk it if I can’t dance with whom I choose.” He gave her a coaxing smile.
Libbetty made one more attempt. “I have already promised these gentlemen….”
“No need to stand on ceremony,” said the taller man, whom she believed Lord Neil had introduced as Sir Rodney Humphrey. “We weren’t promised the first dance, anyway. I’ll have plenty of chances later.” He chuckled. “If Cauldreigh don’t concern himself with precedence, I do, and he precedes me.” He bowed to Libbetty, and Lord Cauldreigh led her away.
Seeing Miss Bassett standing with Mr. Colton in one of the alcoves quelled Libbetty’s primary worry. Shortly, Sybille Bassett and Jonathan Colton joined a second set, where Mrs. Dalrymple prepared to tread the measure with Captain Forsyth.
“Is he one of your fellow officers?” Libbetty asked Lord Cauldreigh.
“Yes, Christian Forsyth is a great gun,” he said.
Miss Georgina Goforth, partnered by Samuel Murray, and her sister with one of the London visitors, stepped into the set with Lord Cauldreigh and Libbetty. Edwina joined their set with Francis just as the musicians began to play.
Libbetty placed her hand upon Cauldreigh’s proffered arm and concentrated on following the music and not appearing clumsy. She had never before danced with a man who was not her brother.
Fortunately, this set did not require her to change partners, which would further have wracked her nerves. She soon realized Lord Cauldreigh experienced some discomfort in his wounded leg, which prompted her to forget everything else in solicitude for him. Convinced he would not wish to have her fuss over him, she said nothing, but made her pace as decorously slow and smooth as possible without falling behind in the steps.
While they waited their turn to take part in the dance, Libbetty asked, “Why do you not wear your uniform, as Captain Forsyth does?”
“Do you wish me to wear it?”
“No, I was only curious. Is it not required?”
“Only on the battlefield, or in a review,” he assured her. “Christian probably cannot afford another coat. Besides, when a soldier wears his uniform at a social occasion, he usually hopes to impress the ladies. You must admit I don’t need to wear bright plumage to have all the ladies’ eyes upon me.” He grinned, his eyes twinkling.
“Indeed, I have noticed how the ladies all observe you,” she returned laughingly. “They are quite green that it is I with whom you chose to dance.”
Still, as she watched Captain Forsyth whirling through the steps, she brightened inside. He had a reckless, care-for-nothing air that heightened his appeal, and his uni
form played an inconsequential part in his attraction.
When the set ended, Lord Cauldreigh brought Libbetty to Mrs. Hayes, who sat with Mrs. Murray and Lady Goforth at one end of the room. Edwina returned to her mother’s side. Mrs. Hogwood stared balefully at Libbetty and Edwina frowned, but gave her a little wave, hand low so her mother would not see.
Sir Rodney at once gravitated to Libbetty, claiming her hand for the next set. Libbetty glanced to see if Lord Neil danced. Would he lead out Mrs. Dalrymple? However, he stood talking with Dr. Hayes, Squire Hogwood, Mr. Bassett, and Sir Hubert.
Some time later, Libbetty had a moment to pause, no one having solicited her hand for the dance. The evening had fleeted by. She had danced with Mr. Colton, Mr. Murray, Francis, the guests from London, and even Tom. Captain Forsyth led her through the steps of a fast reel. She had danced with nearly every young man at the party—except Lord Neil. None of her partners had stirred her pulses.
The younger ladies all danced as much as Libbetty, except for Irene Bassett and a young woman in a dowdy gray gown whom Libbetty did not know.
Tom managed one dance with Edwina. Later, Libbetty was touched to see him patiently leading Irene Bassett through the steps of one of the simpler contras.
Everyone paused for more food and punch. The older men long since had disappeared into an adjoining room to play cards. Libbetty wondered if Lord Neil had joined them as he disappeared for a time, but returned. What was the matter with her that she kept searching him out? He had danced once, early in the evening, with Mrs. Dalrymple.
The older ladies—Mrs. Hayes, Mrs. Murray, Lady Goforth, and Mrs. Hogwood—sat and watched the dancing. Libbetty noticed Mrs. Hayes’s toe tapped time to the music.
Perhaps Lord Neil also noticed, because he approached and spoke to the doctor’s wife, and they joined a set just forming as the music resumed. Libbetty excused herself and went to the withdrawing room set aside for the ladies.
She discovered Miss Bassett there, seated before a mirror adjusting her hair. It was Libbetty’s first chance to speak to her since Lord Neil’s cutting remark. She wished to ease Miss Bassett’s distress, but did not know what to say. She finally chose “Have you enjoyed the rout?” as innocuous words that Sybille could take as a direct question about her state of mind, or equally as a meaningless pleasantry.