by Gayle Buck
With a sigh of resignation, Mrs. Weatherstone extended her hand for the invitation. "Very well, Belle. Let me see it."
Mr. Weatherstone suddenly chuckled as he saw the expression on his niece's face, while her anxious eyes were riveted upon her aunt. "You might as well give in, my dear. You will never hear the end of it otherwise."
"Well, perhaps I shall take it up with Lady Moorehead when I call on her later in the week," said Mrs. Weatherstone.
Belle threw her arms around her aunt. "Thank you, Aunt!"
"Belle, I haven't yet said that you might go," admonished Mrs. Weatherstone.
"Oh, I know, Aunt!" said Belle, with a quick smile at her aunt. "But you have promised to consider it, and that is enough for the moment."
Mr. Weatherstone coughed suddenly, and when his wife looked over at him, he turned his gaze to the ceiling as though he found something of considerable interest in the decorative trim there. "Perhaps a strategic retreat would be in order," he murmured.
"Yes," agreed Mrs. Weatherstone, with a smile of her own. "Belle, I am going to bed. We shall discuss this again tomorrow."
"Very well, Aunt."
Chapter 10
Good as her word, Mrs. Weatherstone did broach the subject of the dinner party with Lady Moorehead, expressing her concerns delicately. "I am naturally quite comfortable with any party that you may get up, my lady. But forgive me! I must be honest with you and express my concerns that it is to be at Vauxhall."
Lady Moorehead nodded. "I perfectly understand, Mrs. Weatherstone. I, too, harbor a certain bias against entertainments at Vauxhall Gardens. It is not as select as it used to be, nor as refined."
Mrs. Weatherstone smiled, a hint of relief on her face that she had not given offense. "Indeed, a perfect example is this masquerade that is being held there next week."
"Yes, and I so wished to go," sighed Clarice Moorehead.
"I have never been to a masquerade," said Belle speculatively.
"And you never shall," said Mrs. Weatherstone quickly, turning a stern glance on her niece.
Lady Moorehead laughed indulgently. "You mustn't be too harsh with Belle, Mrs. Weatherstone. I suspect that all the young ladies are struck by the allure of such a fast function. Clarice begged and begged us to be allowed to attend the masquerade. She was quite astonished that we refused our permission. Well, you can certainly perceive why."
"Quite," Mrs. Weatherstone agreed. "It is just the sort of amusement at which one does not wish one's charge to be seen."
"Do you mean that it is bad ton, Aunt Margaret?" asked Belle curiously. She did not understand why something that sounded so harmless as a company dressed in masks and costumes should be frowned on. It sounded rather amusing to her.
"Exactly so, Belle," said Mrs. Weatherstone. "All sorts of riffraff attend those public gatherings. It is not at all the sort of crowd to which I would wish you to be exposed."
"Oh," said Belle, disappointed but still curious. The thought that crossed her mind was that of all the functions she had been invited to, none had sounded quite so entertaining as the masquerade. She did not voice her opinion, however, well knowing that her aunt would be scandalized. She contented herself with a mild protest. "Such a pity, for I think that I should like to see something more of the city than I have."
"You sound very much like Clarice, who never tires of new entertainments," said Lady Moorehead, shaking her head. "Ah, youth! Believe me, my dears, you would not do well by your reputations if you were to attend a public masquerade and it was found out."
"I should leave before the unmasking," declared Clarice, tossing her head so that her curls bounced.
Belle smiled, catching her friend's lively gaze. "Yes, and so should I," she agreed. "If we never took off our masks, I quite fail to see how our reputations might suffer."
Clarice cocked her head, a thoughtful expression on her face. “That is quite true."
"We must think not only of your reputations but also of your safety," said Mrs. Weatherstone. Though she addressed herself to her niece, her glance encompassed Clarice as well. "I am anxious that you understand this, Belle. One simply does not know who might be attending a public masquerade. It is best not to place oneself in a position that could easily become rather uncomfortable."
"I couldn't agree with you more, Mrs. Weatherstone. However, knowing how disappointed Clarice was that she was not to be allowed to go to the masquerade at Vauxhall, and not wishing to see her so cast down, I came up with this alternative scheme," said Lady Moorehead. "It is not to be a party made up solely of young gentlemen, you know. I did not think that would be at all proper."
"Quite," said Mrs. Weatherstone, beginning to look more hopeful.
"Mama is inviting only our most particular friends," said Clarice.
"Indeed, it will be much more in the nature of a friendly gathering," said Lady Moorehead, nodding. "It will be Mr. and Mrs. Carruthers, with Miss Carruthers, Mr. Roland White, Lord Ashdon, and yourselves. Of course, Lord Moorehead and I shall host the gathering, and I have persuaded Angus that he is to come so that the numbers will be even. I thought that would be a large enough party to be entertaining, yet there would also be ample supervision of the young people."
"Well! You have quite persuaded me," said Mrs. Weatherstone with a smile. "I have no other concerns. A simple dinner at a box in Vauxhall Gardens will be eminently suitable."
"Oh, thank you. Aunt!" exclaimed Belle.
Lady Moorehead chuckled. "I perceive that you are as easily pleased as my own miss. Well, it will be a very good dinner party, I think."
"Lady Moorehead, I am curious on one point," said Mrs. Weatherstone. She glanced at her niece and Miss Moorehead, who had put their heads together and were talking animatedly. She lowered her voice. "How is it that you have invited Lord Ashdon to what is essentially a private party'.'"
Though Belle was exchanging confidences with Miss Moorehead, nevertheless her ears caught the viscount's name, and she instantly tuned in to her aunt's conversation as well.
"Does it seem odd to you, Mrs. Weatherstone? It is easily explained. Roland White has been a particular friend of Angus's for ages, and since Lord Ashdon is Roland's cousin, I thought that I would include his lordship in the invitation. Lord Ashdon appears to get along so well with the younger gentlemen, and with our daughter and your niece," said Lady Moorehead.
"Quite true," said Mrs. Weatherstone with a nod. She casually moved on to another topic, and Belle lost interest in the conversation.
It was several minutes later that Mrs. Weatherstone and Belle took their leave of the Mooreheads. As they were driving back to the town house, Mrs. Weatherstone suddenly referred to the dinner invitation to Vauxhall Gardens. "I am glad that we have accepted the Mooreheads' invitation, Belle."
"Why, so am I, Aunt," said Belle. "I am always glad to spend time in Clarice's company."
Mrs. Weatherstone slid a speculative glance at her. "And Lord Ashdon's company, too?"
Belle was startled. She felt the slightest warmth mount into her cheeks, but she strove for a casual tone to cover her astonishment at the blunt question. "Of course, Aunt. I find his lordship's company very pleasing, as I am certain everyone does."
Mrs. Weatherstone gave a distinct sniff. "Just so, dear Belle! This easy explanation of the viscount's relationship to Mr. White and how agreeable his lordship makes himself! Really, I begin to suspect that Lady Moorehead has her eye on his lordship."
"What can you mean, Aunt?" asked Belle, quite taken aback.
"Why, it is certainly plain enough to anyone with wit. Lady Moorehead hopes to promote a match between her daughter and Lord Ashdon," said Mrs. Weatherstone roundly.
"Does she?" said Belle, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She suddenly recalled that Clarice had confided she had a new beau but had refused to reveal the gentleman's name. "I did not know."
Mrs. Weatherstone gave a small laugh. "No, how should you? You are too inexperienced to catch these little nuances.
It would be quite unexceptional to include an unmarried gentleman who was related to one's family to a small, select dinner such as this, or a close family friend. Lord Ashdon is neither. His lordship's only entree is his relationship to Mr. White, who is undisputedly a friend of the family. Therefore I am fairly confident that Lady Moorehead harbors hopes of promoting a match in that direction."
"I see." Belle managed to drum up a smile. "Well! I had no notion that such scheming was going on."
"Oh, it happens all the time. The Season is one big brew of plots and schemes and subterfuges to land the most eligible matches possible," said Mrs. Weatherstone.
"Aunt Margaret, are you plotting on my behalf?" asked Belle quietly.
Mrs. Weatherstone looked quickly, sharply, at her niece. The faintest tinge of color rose in her face. "Why, Belle, what a question! Of course I am not...plotting! I merely think it a very good thing that we are going to this dinner. And I wish you to wear that new gold gown to it, too; it will be perfect for the occasion, and you look so lovely in it." She reached out and patted her niece's clasped hands. "You will turn a few heads with it, I assure you."
"Then I shall certainly wear it. Aunt," said Belle promptly, as the smiling face of a certain gentleman came to her mind.
That afternoon Belle went riding with her friends. It was the party that Lord Ashdon had suggested. Belle was very aware of the viscount. If she was not speaking with him, she was listening to him and watching him. Most particularly, she was interested in the byplay between Lord Ashdon and her friend Clarice Moorehead. Once the notion had been put into her head, Belle could not shake it. She studied Clarice, wondering if her friend actually was smitten with Lord Ashdon, and if Lady Moorehead really was scheming to see her daughter a viscountess. Clarice was riding between Lord Ashdon and Roland White, conversing animatedly with both, and her occasional laughter floated back to Belle.
Belle could not see that Clarice favored Lord Ashdon over Roland White or, indeed, over her own brother. She glanced sideways at the riders who kept her company. Of course, Angus Moorehead had eyes only for Millicent Carruthers.
Belle looked again, blinking in astonishment. She was stunned at the way that Angus and Millicent were staring into one another's eyes as they exchanged pleasantries.
"Why, I never even noticed!" she exclaimed.
"What did you never notice, Miss Weatherstone?"
Belle turned sharply in her saddle. Lord Ashdon had come up on his mount on her other side without its even registering upon her. "What?"
A blush suddenly rose in her face as she realized that he had overheard her. She could hardly explain what she had been thinking that had led to her stunning revelation about Angus and Millicent. "Oh! Wh-why, only see how bright the flowers are today, my lord!" she stammered, gesturing with her whip toward a long bed of late-spring blossoms nodding in the breeze.
Lord Ashdon glanced in the direction she was pointing and then looked back at her. There was a smile on his face, and his blue eyes were warm in expression. "Yes, they are beautiful, as beautiful as those in Bath."
"In Bath?" said Belle, still a little off balance. She stole another glance sideways at the couple, whose horses were beginning to drift a little ways behind. "You are familiar with Bath, then?"
Lord Ashdon laughed, a lift of surprise in his voice. "Of course! I convalesced there for the better part of a year."
Belle recalled that her aunt had mentioned becoming acquainted with the viscount in Bath. His lordship had conversed a few times with her sister, but Cassandra had not been so struck by her passing acquaintance with Lord Ashdon that she had ever written a word about him. Looking at Lord Ashdon now, Belle could not imagine its being so. She flashed a smile. "Oh, yes! Of course. I had forgotten."
A small frown pulled Lord Ashdon's brows close over his well-formed nose. There was a puzzled expression in his eyes. "I see."
Belle felt that something more was expected of her. She wondered why the viscount was looking at her so oddly. "I suppose you have a wide acquaintance in Bath. Do you plan to journey there again?"
"I had thought to go down a few weeks ago, but then I—“ Lord Ashdon shifted in his saddle, making the well-oiled leather creak. His gaze was focused entirely on her face. "I do not understand your meaning. Miss Weatherstone. Have I offended you in some fashion?"
"No, of course not!" said Belle quickly, completely taken aback. She was startled by the intensity and sharpness of his gaze.
Ahead of them, Roland White turned in his saddle, placing one hand on the broad rump of his mount. "Ashdon! I say, Ashdon, Miss Moorehead has expressed her desire to go to Gunther's. What say the rest of you?"
Lord Ashdon straightened and made an appropriate reply. His gaze necessarily left Belle's face, for which she was grateful. She had never felt the least bit uncomfortable in the viscount's presence before, but just for a moment she thought she had seen a flash of inexplicable anger pass over his countenance. It startled her, for she had never seen anything other than an amiable, smiling expression on his lordship's face. She did not know what to make of it or what to attribute it to. For the life of her, Belle could not imagine why the viscount had thought he had offended her. Nor how she had come to offend him to the point of anger.
Angus and Millicent rejoined the rest of the party, and the equestrians set out for Gunther's. The famous sweet shop enjoyed a large patronage, and when the party arrived, they found others of their acquaintance already there.
While it was not patently obvious to everyone, it gradually dawned on Belle that she was not enjoying as much conversation with Lord Ashdon as she usually had. As she began to watch him, she became vaguely disturbed. If she had not known better, it would have seemed to her that he was deliberately avoiding her, by either word or glance. His attentions toward her were markedly absent.
She could not understand it. From the first, Lord Ashdon had been one of her most persistent suitors, and now he had withdrawn as though she had become some mere acquaintance. Surely it was her overactive imagination, she assured herself. It was simply that the viscount was too civil to ignore the claims that others had on his attention.
Despite all of her inner reassurances, however, Belle could not shake the odd feeling that she had somehow lost the viscount's regard. As the party left Gunther's and the ladies were accompanied by their escorts to their various domiciles. Belle felt that, for her, the ride had fallen sadly flat.
Chapter 11
Vauxhall Gardens instantly earned Belle's approval. She delighted in the long avenues of towering trees. There were fountains and cascades along the winding paths and Mr. Roubiliac's fine statue of Handel to admire before the company retired to one of the small supper boxes arranged in the leafy arbors.
The light supper was sumptuous, consisting of roasted game hens, fresh peas, Spanish onions, fruit and cheese, custards, syllabubs laced with wine, and arrack punch. Lady Moorehead confided to Mrs. Weatherstone and Mrs. Carruthers that she had had her own cook prepare the roasted game hens and then had brought them to Vauxhall in a basket. "None of that nasty powdered beef for my guests," she declared. Her ladyship was rewarded with praise from her guests, especially the gentlemen, for her thoughtfulness.
The orchestra played continuously in the pavilion, and there was dancing in the adjoining area that was bordered by the several wooden dinner boxes. The wind rustled the leaves in the tops of the trees overhead, while torchlight rivaled the gleam of stars in a darkening sky.
Belle thought the box that the Mooreheads had hired for the evening was very comfortable. The chairs were well upholstered, and the table furnishings were tastefully done. Of course, Lady Moorehead had left nothing to chance, and had in fact imported her own servants and tableware.
Belle felt that she had nothing to complain of cither in her surroundings or in the company. Everyone appeared to be in the best of spirits. Indeed, she was amazed by how much at ease her uncle and aunt were in this particular company. Of course, Lord and La
dy Moorehead were excellent hosts, making certain that no one was without refreshment or a partner for conversation.
When Belle observed the occupants in some of the other dinner boxes, she could well understand why her aunt might question the wisdom of a party at Vauxhall Gardens. Some appeared a trifle overbold in their loud conversation and indulged in raucous laughter. Probably an excessive flow of wine could be blamed, she thought.
She simply shrugged it off. She was not one who easily took offense or allowed something that had nothing to do with her to spoil her evening.
The only thing that really marred the enjoyment of the evening for her was Clarice's whispered confidence: "It is the strangest thing, Belle! Roland told me that Lord Ashdon had expressed a wish that he had not committed himself to our party."
Belle glanced quickly in Lord Ashdon's direction, to assure herself that he was still in conversation with Lord and Lady Moorehead and could not possibly overhear himself being talked about.
"Did-did Lord Ashdon tell Roland why?" asked Belle, her heart beginning to beat rather fast. Surely the viscount's about-face had nothing to do with her. He had not called at the town house that week, but that meant nothing, of course. Lord Ashdon naturally had many commitments. She couldn't expect him to continue to dance attendance on her as he had all of the Season so far.
Clarice frowned, tapping her chin with the point of her gilt-edged fan. "Roland was not certain, but he says he suspects it has something to do with Lady Ashdon."
"Lady Ashdon?" asked Belle, looking at her friend in perplexity. "Why, how could it?"
Clarice shrugged, then a dimpled smile appeared on her face. "Well, Roland hinted that Lady Ashdon considers each of us—you, me, and Millicent—eminently suitable as a match for Lord Ashdon. Roland thinks that his lordly cousin is wanting to put distance between himself and all of us. So he would have preferred not coming tonight, but naturally, since he had already committed himself to my mother, he couldn't very well not come!"