by Anne Millar
“That will be quite long enough Judith, she is very speedy. You know my dear, it’s a form of cowardice not to follow your heart. Tresham was not always as steady as he is now. As a young man he had some odd notions. He gave me quite a bit of trouble, but it was worth it. As it will be for you.”
Judith couldn’t help blurting out her incredulity. “You think there’s the slightest chance that I would consider Thomas Stainford as anything to me? Am I so desperate?”
“I don’t know about desperate Judith, but the two of you find it difficult not to squabble on sight. That’s usually an indication of something.” Matilde Sinclair sat back with the satisfaction of one who has trumped an opponent’s opening ace. “Sir Theodore doesn’t have that effect on you.” Ace and king both trumped.
There really was no point in arguing. Judith told herself her aunt meant well, but she couldn’t know what a rake Thomas Stainford really was. And that wasn’t all of it. John had cornered her before they left. His debts of course, the need he had for her to urgently consider Sir Theodore as a suitor: the man who held her brother’s ruination in his pocketbook. Apparently Sir Theodore hoped she’d reconsider his invitation to be guest of honour at his regimental ball, the acceptance tantamount to a declaration of betrothal.
Her instinctive reaction to tell John to be damned, that she was going to leave him to his ruination. That way they’d be a matched set, brother and sister both ruined. But of course it wasn’t that simple, John could face a duel if Sir Theodore refused to cover his notes, and father couldn’t lose another son. That part of it Aunt Matilde should know far better than she did, judging from the snippet she’d overheard between her aunt and father in the library. Unless John had kept back the full extent of his desperation from them.
“For a week Judith, forget the whole matter. Relax and enjoy yourself. I know how hard you work for Oakenhill, dear. It was my home, happy days, but it is your father’s responsibility now, and one day it will be John’s and not yours. So there is a limit to what you can do, Judith. For a week forget it and we will amuse ourselves and not tell Tresham how much of his blunt we’ve spent. Agreed?”
Of course put like that Judith couldn’t refuse her conspiratorial aunt.
~
Thomas Stainford couldn’t refuse his godmother’s brother either. Sir Edmund Hewston had made it quite clear that refusal would result in the Loyal East Mercian Volunteers being disbanded. Those who truly would volunteer would be given their bounty and transferred as replacements to battalions already in Spain, the others becoming Sir Theodore’s problem to pay off.
“The damned man has been agitating, Thomas. You’ve upset the good Colonel considerably.” He paused long enough to give Thomas a chance to defend himself from the accusation then went on when Thomas refused to rise to the bait. “Which is a damned good thing in my view. Fellow has no right to call himself colonel of a regiment if he can’t manage the men. How’s the training going?”
“Slowly sir. There is a considerable leeway to make up still. March would have been difficult, but January will be doubly so. Musketry is coming along but drill is more sluggish. Some of the officers are too weak to lead their companies.” Thomas spoke firmly. Sir Edmund might have called him down to London a week early but he would still expect an accurate assessment. And there was no point in sugaring the report, that would only rebound on him later.
“There is no leeway possible, Thomas. The Peer insists on the January date. Some green battalion that was sent out as fully trained failed in the line. Had to be rescued by a Portuguese battalion of all things. You can imagine Wellesley’s reaction. So now he wants your men two months early so he can be sure of them.”
“Yes sir.” Thomas checked himself from protesting the impossibility of this new timeline. It was always better to acknowledge the order then wait till you were asked what you needed to achieve it.
“Well, can you do it?” Sir Edmund was testy, he must realise how much he was asking.
“Yes sir. With some help it should be possible.”
“Can’t get rid of Horsley yet, Thomas. Thought I‘d made that clear. The fellow has to pay for the regiment until we ship it to Spain. You’ll just have to manage with him till then. Government’s not made of money. What else?”
“A Sergeant-Major, and two captains to replace the weakest of Horsley’s officers. There are enough old soldiers in the ranks to fill out some passable sergeants.” And if Sir Theodore Horsley could be prevented from blocking Thomas’ changes. The accelerated training plan would be obvious even to the most lame brained and Sir Theodore for all his faults was not slow to identify threats to his own position.
“How many will take the bounty and ship to Spain, Thomas?” Ten guineas a man was a fortune to men in the ranks of the militia, and most wouldn’t realise before they signed up that there would be deductions for kit and charges from what they would actually receive. They would still be rich for a while. Till they drank or whored it away. Or a musket ball ended their life.
“Over half I think.” Between the old soldiers who found life boring, and the young men who thirsted for adventure, and the discontented or indebted who couldn’t wait to jeer their landlord goodbye.
“I can find you a draft of perhaps a hundred and fifty. Won’t fill your ranks, but still.” If Thomas could persuade three hundred or more of the militia to transfer such a draft would indeed give him a strong battalion. After years of war most of Wellesley’s line consisted of half strength battalions or less.
“And you, Thomas. Up to it?”
“I am recovering in earnest, Sir Edmund. Fresh country air and exercise.”
“Aye, well go and get some more of it. And good luck Thomas.”
This time he didn’t waste time on any of the paintings on his way out. His task had just increased monumentally but Thomas was easier in his mind. Replacing officers was never pleasant and it would be an awkward moment when the replacements he’d just been promised arrived. But the new men would give him the chance to drill the battalion to where it should be. And displacing John Hampton from the head of his company would ensure that Judith’s last brother didn’t die on a Spanish battlefield as Jeremy had.
~
In the coach Aunt Matilde was like a little girl with a doll. “Lovely, absolutely lovely, Judith. So very fashionable. Isn’t she Tresham?” Which question was unfair and pointless. The Earl of Tresham had given every indication that his attendance at Lady Robson’s ball was a penance to be borne only if he could find a few like minded friends and a card table. So asking him to comment on whether or not Judith’s gown was fashionable was a complete waste of time.
Unfortunately the long suffering lord made an elementary mistake with his answer which did not please his wife at all. He sat up in his seat and smiled across at Judith. “You look like a princess, my dear.”
“That was not the intention, Richard.” For days they’d been chasing round in pursuit of the new vogue, Ottoman exotic. Judith’s existing ball gowns had been dismissed with a quite hurtful alacrity. ‘Far too boring’ or ‘last season the year before last.’ Nothing would do but that Judith be presented as a vision of the seraglio. It had to be Circassian nymph. So being described as a princess rather missed the mark.
“We are lucky that Rosemary’s ball is out of season. By next spring this will be commonplace. But you my dear, will stun tonight. Princess indeed.”
And she should stun, after all the effort and expense. And part of her wanted to stun, the part that was glad to slough off the cares of Oakenhill and devote her brain for a while to whether a peasant girl’s pink bodice would be velvet or satin. Obviously set off by Spanish slash sleeves, that was a given, whichever fabric you chose. She’d drawn the line though at the helmet cap of frosted crepe embellished with silver tassels. Even in the depravity of an Ottoman harem no woman would be forced to wear such a monstrosity.
Aunt Matilde had fought hard for the pink kid slippers, but lost the battle of the neckl
ine ‘far too high Judith, you have a lovely bosom’ and the skirmish over gloves. ‘White is so old, colour is the new elegance.’ Matilde had cleverly solved the critical need for the gown to have such a very full fringe at the feet by retaining a tail for Judith to loop over her wrist when dancing. So more embellished than she would have chosen for herself, more colourful than anything she’d seen worn to a ball for years, Judith was the height of fashion. Or frivolity personified, depending on your point of view.
No prizes for guessing which side of the fence Amara Guilmor plumped for. They’d no sooner congratulated their hostess on the Egyptian theme she’d used for decoration when Amara swooped. “Delightful, just delightful. You could have carried off a deeper shade my dear. Richer, more languorous.” She must have seen the warning light come on in Judith’s eyes. “If you’d wanted to of course. But so clever to hold to a simple ornament for your hair.” In the end Judith had restrained herself to three feathers and a lace square. To her aunt’s disgust.
Amara was more moderate in her views on head dress. “I cannot believe that people, women you would think would know better, are going around with turbans on their heads. It will never catch on. Though Rosemary has done well with her ballroom. Have you met Jerome, Judith?”
Judith knew better than to make any attempt at answering. That was clearly superfluous when Amara Guilmor looked set to continue with her eclectic diatribe. But something of her puzzlement must have showed because she was vouchsafed an explanation.
“Jerome was in Egypt as an ensign, Judith. His first taste of action was Abukir Bay. Ten years ago now. So his mother has been very clever to combine the latest fad with her ball to celebrate his return home. An excellent idea to have a private ball too. Far better than Almacks. I believe Rosemary intends to have waltzing.”
Judith knew that the shocking dance would never have been permitted at the fashionable Assembly Rooms, but a hostess could do as she wished at her own ball. Even if the more conservative of the ton were scandalised, the young would be thrilled. And there were enough sparkling girls here to make Judith feel geriatric
“Now give me your card, Judith and I’ll make sure you dance with the most eligibles.”
Her attempt to frustrate Amara’s intention was doomed even before Matilde Sinclair joined with her friend. “The Robertson boy, Amara, and don’t forget Tresham’s godson.” When she eventually got the card back it was a fair way to full with a mixture of names and initials, most of which she couldn’t recognise.
She learned who ‘VA’ was though when she and Jerome, now a tired looking captain with one sleeve pinned to his tunic came to the end of their allotted quadrille.
“Thomas!” He was as calm as though drilling his troops, showing none of the shock she felt. The man was supposed to be safely in Northamptonshire training his soldiers. As he reached for her hand Judith tried to protest. “I cannot dance with you, this is promised to v...” Judith couldn’t help letting her voice trail away. How could you claim to be promised to a set of initials you didn’t know. Amara was a minx.
He just took the card from her fingers, glanced at it, and smiled. “My godmother is having difficulty coming to terms with my disinheritance. You have promised this dance to the Viscount Alsbury, Judith. I’m sorry if that disappoints you.” He showed no sign of mirroring that disappointment and Judith was oddly flattered by his enthusiasm. Thomas could be sweet when he wasn’t lecturing her or slandering his commander.
“Amara knew you were here?”
“She ought to since I escorted her here. Lord Guilmor was happy to delegate the responsibility. And otherwise it would have been perverse of her to inscribe your card with my name.”
Amara Guilmor and Aunt Matilde, all they needed was a third for their coven. Judith could recognise a set up even if were too late to prevent it.
“I suppose I will dance with you then.” That sounded less than gracious when Thomas was being very civilised and Judith felt the need to make amends. “Have you come to terms with your father’s action, Thomas? I’m sorry for what he did.”
“Charles will make a fine Earl. I have no great regret there. And Jane will be delighted, so harmony should reign. All in all there’s much to be said for what father did. So don’t worry on my account.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she had no intention of worrying on his account, ever again, but the music started and he led her into the march of their set without the opportunity to vent her wrath. Then found she was pleased to have let the temptation slip. Thomas had always been an excellent dancer and now he was exerting himself to be charming as well. Judith could feel herself the envy of most of the ladies. When the longways dance came to its eventual end she was almost sorry to part from him.
Not that it was for long. It turned out that the ‘YP’ on her card stood for Young Penwick so she found herself partnered with Thomas again for a cotillion.
“I told you she hasn’t really accepted my divestment, Judith. Amara can’t help but believe in happy endings.”
The total absence of self pity nearly had her feeling sorry for him. After all it was extreme of the Earl to strip Thomas of an inheritance that was his by right of birth. “Is there no chance your father will relent?”
“Nary a hope. The die is cast, the thing is done and I must concentrate on my dancing.” He said it with such flair she nearly laughed with him. And as they trod their way through the intricate steps Judith couldn’t help but contrast his neat footwork with the lumbering of the other officers. Thomas seemed to have throw off the injury that had brought him home. Though once or twice she caught a wince that had her fearing for the more energetic heying and setting of the scotch reels to come. Before she reminded herself of the danger of allowing herself to sympathise with this man.
But it was a waltz which was the next dance marked down for them. Slow so less likely to tax him, but daring and embarrassing. Judith knew that many considered the French import to be too far for polite society with couples embracing on the dance floor. She had no worries over reacting to Thomas’ touch, she was far beyond such foolery. What worried Judith was her complete inability to dance steps she had no knowledge of.
“Is this the last of Amara’s forced matches?” If she couldn’t decipher all the codes the witches had used Thomas would be able to tell her since the plotters must have briefed him as to when he was to dance with her.
“One more I think. I was sworn to keep such vital information from you, so don’t tell my godmother I weakened.” It would be so easy to fall in with his conceit that he and she were the joint victims in this.
“Why did you fall in with this?” Let him explain himself. If he could.
“I enjoy dancing with you, Judith. For all there has been between us I hoped there might be friendship. And Amara is very hard to refuse. As you well know.”
He was gliding her into the steps now and Judith rested her gloved hand on his arm in the approved and perfectly proper position only to feel the corded muscle beneath the red cloth. Whatever exercise regime Thomas was following in his convalescence appeared to be working.
“How do you know this dance?”
Thomas resisted the urge to make an instant and flippant reply. Nothing would crush this truce they were developing more surely. But he wasn’t going to tell her he’d spent an hour being schooled by one of Amara’s maids to make certain he could impress her. “Spain has some society still, Judith. People like to pretend to normality.”
“And they dance the waltz?”
“Among other dances.” It would be exaggerating to call this conversation, but compared to the last time they met it was civilised. His first reaction when he realised how intent Amara was on throwing them together was to refuse. To tell her how he and Judith had concluded their attachment when he made his offer at Oakenhill and had been refused. But of course he could no more betray what lay behind that offer than hit a woman. Except that his godmother was astute. Even a lesser clue than offering J
udith marriage the first time he saw her after his return would be enough. And then neither of them would have a moment’s peace.
If Judith really didn’t want him the last thing he wanted was to have her hectored into marrying him. It was only that he didn’t believe her refusal. Especially now when her eyes sparkled in the candlelight and she followed his lead trustingly in a dance she didn’t know. Right now it was possible to believe she would forgive him.
That led him directly to the prospect of abandoning his mission to take the volunteers to Spain. To forgo the aggravation and effort and settle for bliss with Judith. But could bliss last for long without any purpose other than happiness? Unlike Jerome waltzing past very carefully with a young blonde girl holding his shoulder rather firmly he didn’t even have the duty to breed and perpetuate the family line. Ironically that was Charles’ responsibility now.
Yet the urge to hold onto her was strong as they circled the dance floor. For the first time since he’d come back Judith wasn’t looking to fight him and the relief was palpable. Moreover he still had an ace to play. If there was one thing that must please her it would be to hear that he would appoint a new captain to replace John so that her brother would not accompany the regiment to Spain. It was on his lips to tell her when he checked himself. That could wait for their final dance.
Judith barely notice the glass of punch Aunt Matilde slipped into her hand. Waltzing was blissful, Thomas was as sweet as he had ever been, and this was as wonderful a ball as any she’d been to. The stout captain to whom the next dance was promised accepted her regrets graciously and Judith sat down gratefully before her legs gave way.
Gulping the drink down left her looking round for a table to deposit her empty glass and it was then Judith became aware of the conversation.
“Stark naked in the street if you would believe it. The dragoons had rounded up the women of the village for their amusement and her along with them.”
“Melinda how can you possibly know this?” The second voice was no more appealing than the first, eager and cracked, and Judith knew without turning that its owner would be wizened and shrivelled. What wretched tattle people amused themselves with. Still there was strange fascination in listening to this gossip now that had it cut into the languor that had been so pleasant. At least it saved her having to make conversation with anyone till Thomas came back to claim her for their next dance.