by Joan Wolf
Julia said as she advanced into the room. “The new governess is here? Just in time. We have to go to Almack’s tomorrow night. Now Maria will have someone to keep her company.”
“She seemed like a very nice young woman,” Evan said as he looked at Lizzie’s book. “What are you reading, Lizzie?”
“Lord Byron’s new poem.”
Julia groaned. “Again? I read that awful thing last night, Lizzie. How can you bear to waste your time on such nonsense?”
Lizzie said, “Julia, stop complaining about Lord Byron! Everyone loves him. Perhaps he does … exaggerate … a little, but that’s part of the fun.”
Julia plucked the book from her hand and closed it firmly. “It isn’t fun. It’s terrible poetry. One or two of his lyrics are all right, I suppose, but this Corsair thing is dreadful.”
Lizzie snatched her book back. “You had better go and change your clothes. Mama doesn’t approve of riding clothes in the house.”
“I just wanted to get some paper so I can write Sir John a letter about my new horse,” Julia said with dignity.
Lizzie warned, “We’re going to Almack’s tonight, Julia, and I recommend you don’t share your opinion of Lord Byron’s talent. It won’t make you popular.”
Julia snorted.
Evan smothered a smile and said, “I confess, I’m not looking forward to Almack’s. My aunt has made it sound so … so…”
“Boring,” Julia said.
Evan grinned. “Well… yes.”
“You are the two most anti-social beings I have ever met,” Lizzie said. “What is wrong with going to a dance and meeting new people?”
Evan and Julia looked at each other. Julia was the one to answer first. “I’m going to try, Lizzie, but I really don’t know what
I’m supposed to talk about with a bunch of strangers.”
“Talk about horses,” Evan advised. “You can go on forever with that topic.”
“And what are you going to talk about?” Julia retorted. “You can’t offend everyone by regaling them with your very unflattering opinion of England and the English.”
Evan sighed. “I know.”
What he didn’t say was that the American Minister’s secretary, John Wood, had begged him to do his best to charm the English nobles he would be meeting. The Minister himself, John Quincy Adams, though brilliant, had a talent for infuriating people that was unequaled in the diplomatic world. He was rarely invited to social events and Evan could be a useful ambassador for the United States.
Lizzie stood up. “I think we should go and meet Maria’s new governess, Julia. It would be polite.”
“All right.” Julia looked at Evan. “Did you get her name?”
“Emma Dixon.”
Lizzie said, “Too bad Maria won’t be dining with us anymore. I’ll miss her.”
Evan frowned. “Why should Maria no longer dine with us?”
“In England schoolroom girls always dine with their governess,” Lizzie explained. “Maria has been dining with us because my mother didn’t want her to be alone. But that will change now that she has Miss Dixon.”
Evan felt Julia look at him. He shot her a quick glance then said to Lizzie, “Maria will continue to dine with her family and Miss Dixon will join us as well. She is an educated young woman and will be an asset to our company.”
“Mama won’t like it,” Lizzie warned.
“I am quite sure she will see my point,” Evan replied calmly.
“Of course she will,” Julia said. “After all, it is Evan’s house, Lizzie.”
A gleeful light sparkled in Lizzie’s celestial blue eyes, but she didn’t reply.
Chapter Twenty-two
The carriage pulled up in front of Almack’s and Lizzie and I stared in amazement. The building was positively shabby.
“This is Almack’s?” Lizzie said to her mother.
“What makes it so exclusive, Elizabeth, is not what is outside, but who is inside,” Aunt Barbara replied.
One of Aunt Barbara’s footmen jumped down from the driver’s seat and opened the carriage door for us. Aunt Barbara went first, then Lizzie, then me. Evan came last. He had been sitting next to me in the carriage because, as my aunt said, he was the biggest and I was the smallest.
I had been conscious of him every second of the drive. How big he was. How my shoulder would bump against his arm when the carriage made a turn. Even without looking at him, I could tell when he smiled. I heard it in his voice.
I had a dreadful suspicion I wasn’t feeling this way because he reminded me of the first earl.
“Well, we certainly look elegant even if our destination does not,” Lizzie said, smoothing down her skirt.
This was true. I had been surprised at how different I looked when Lizzie’s maid finished with me. My new gown fell gracefully to the top of my soft leather shoes. The scooped neck was a little disconcerting – I had never shown so much flesh in my life - but I thought the long line of the skirt made me look taller. The dress itself had a thin white layer of some gauzy material draped over a pale green underskirt. There was a pale green ribbon tied under my breasts, which were already more noticeable because of the scoop neck. I wore long gloves and a pearl necklace Evan had surprised me with before we left the house.
I looked like a real lady, like a daughter my mother might have been proud of.
Lizzie, of course, looked gorgeous. Her dress was similar to mine only the underskirt was blue, to pick up the blue of her eyes. She grabbed my hand once, quickly, as we walked toward the door, and I grinned at her.
Evan was wearing the correct evening dress for Almack’s, knee breeches and a long black coat with tails, and when he followed us to Almack’s front door the street lamp threw its light on his neatly brushed hair, making it look as silvery as the moon itself.
A footman opened the door to this revered temple of matchmaking and we passed into a paneled vestibule, presented our vouchers to Mr. Willis, the host, purchased our tickets, and ascended the stairs to the ballroom.
The dancing had not yet started and as we stood in the door I saw how people turned to look at us. I am going to hate this, I thought, but I stuck my chin in the air, took a deep breath and prepared to endure.
Evan bent and said in my ear, “The stable at Stoverton is nicer than this.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. He was right. The empty floor was scuffed and warped looking, in total contrast to all the well-dressed people who stood around it waiting for the music to begin. The walls needed a coat of paint badly.
“Come,” Lady Barbara commanded, and we trooped after her to stand before a triumvirate of women, who sat like queens in gilt chairs on the edge of the dance floor. I recognized Lady Sefton, the patroness who had given us our vouchers.
Lady Sefton greeted us with a sweet, friendly smile and introduced Lizzie, Evan and me to the other patronesses enthroned beside her. Lady Jersey gave me a hard stare and said, “So you are Helen Althorpe’s daughter. It is nice to meet you, Julia.”
I bobbed my head. “Thank you, my lady.”
Mrs. Drummond Burrell, looking as if she was smelling something particularly noxious and ignored me, saying to Evan, “One can see right away that you are a Marshall, my lord.”
All three ladies had something flattering to say to Aunt Barbara about Lizzie’s beauty. One of the things I liked about Lizzie is that she didn’t like comments about her looks. Her serene expression never changed as Lady Barbara accepted the compliments.
The orchestra began to tune up, signifying the imminence of the first dance. “We always begin with a minuet,” Lady Sefton said, addressing herself to Lizzie and me. “We are permitting the waltz this year, but a young girl must gain our permission before she is allowed to dance it.”
These ladies must be desperate for power, I thought. How sad they had to settle for making stupid rules about a dance.
Evan asked politely, “And how does a young girl get your permission to dance the waltz?
“Her partner must ask us,” Lady Sefton said.
“Every time she wants to waltz?”
Mrs. Drummond Burrell actually smiled at him. “Once she has our permission, she may waltz when she chooses.”
“Well, then, we might as well get it over with,” Evan replied. “May my cousins dance the waltz with me?”
Lady Jersey laughed. “I can see you are a man who likes to get right to the point, Lord Althorpe. Yes, your cousins may dance the waltz. But, remember, they must dance their first waltz with you.”
Evan grinned at her. “That will be no hardship for me, ma’am. I don’t know any of the other young ladies who are here.”
“I will present you to some of them,” Lady Jersey assured him.
Evan’s smile dimmed. “You are very good.”
Lady Jersey waved to two young men who had been hovering in our vicinity. “Mr. Singleton, Lord Craig, allow me to introduce you to Miss Lewis and Lady Julia Marshall.”
Both gentlemen looked eagerly at Lizzie, and when she smiled at one of them, the other politely turned to me. “Would you care to have this dance with me, Lady Julia?” he asked.
Lord Craig’s hair was carefully curled and his necktie came almost up to his ears. I wondered what kind of peripheral vision such a monstrosity would allow. However, not to be outdone in politeness, I produced a smile and said yes, I would dance with him.
The good thing about a minuet is that you don’t get a chance to talk very much. The same is true for the cotillion that followed, which I danced with another young man whose name I didn’t remember.
The third man I danced with said, as we waited for the set to form, “I was at Tattersall’s when your cousin bought that chestnut gelding of Blackburn’s. I understand he acquired it for you.”
I felt the first spark of interest I had known all evening. “He did buy me a chestnut gelding,” I said. “We left my mare at home and I needed something to ride while I was in London.”
“I haven’t seen you in the park with him yet.”
“I’ve been taking him out early in the morning, so we can gallop. The park in the afternoon is horribly crowded. No fun at all.”
He nodded, but before he could reply the music started and the dance began. It was a few minutes before we met up again and when we did I asked, “I’m curious. Why was he being sold?”
“Blackburn had bought him for his wife, but he was too much horse for her. He’s small enough for a woman, but he was bred to be a racehorse. He ran away with her a few times, and that was that.”
Once again we were separated by the dance and I looked forward eagerly to reconnecting with this interesting person who knew all about my horse.
“It sounds as if you are doing all right with him,” he said to me on our next meeting.
“I love him,” I replied fervently. “I think I might try him in the hunting field.”
He looked interested. “You hunt, do you?”
“Oh, yes. All the time.”
The dance was over and I stood talking to my partner. For the first time I really looked at him. He was a broad shouldered young man of average height with brown hair and eyes that were a mix of blue and gray. “What was your name again?” I asked.
He grinned. “I’m Tom Winston. My father is Lord Sheffield. He has a place in Leicestershire, near Melton Mowbray. I hunt with the Quorn myself. But we don’t get many ladies.”
“I should love to hunt with the Quorn,” I said enviously.
“Not too many full-bred Thoroughbreds hunting with the Quorn,” Mr. Winston replied. “They’re fast, but a little delicate over heavy country. And hard to control sometimes. We mostly use Thoroughbred crosses.”
“I’ve hunted my Thoroughbred mare for years. No other breed has the courage of the Thoroughbred.”
Mr. Winston looked at me with respect and I decided that I liked him.
My senses suddenly prickled and I turned to see Evan coming up to me. A waltz was the next dance on the card.
He nodded amiably to Mr. Winston and said to me, “We might as well get this waltz over with. Then you won’t have to worry if anyone else asks you.”
For some reason, I felt nervous. I wet my lips with my tongue and put my hand into the hand he was holding out to me.
Mr. Winston said, “I say, Lady Julia, would you dance with me again?”
I blinked and looked at him. “Why, yes, I suppose so.”
I walked with Evan out to the floor. “That’s the first fellow I’ve seen you talking to,” he said.
“Have you been watching me?”
“Just trying to make sure you’re getting on all right.”
“Oh. He was asking me about Ty,” I said. “Just fancy, Evan, he knew all about your outbidding Lord Ormesby. And he knew about Ty’s previous owner, too. He was very interesting.”
His blue eyes smiled down at me. “I told you to talk about horses.”
The music began to play and Evan put his hand on my waist. He was much taller than I, but our steps matched as we began to circle the floor. I felt the movement of his body against mine and suddenly it was as if we were the only two people in the room. We didn’t talk. I felt like resting my cheek against his shoulder and dancing with him forever.
When the music stopped I stiffened in surprise. It was an effort for me to step away from him and when I dared to look up into his face he was staring down at me, his face unsmiling, his eyes narrowed. It was a look that made my breath catch.
What is going on here?
I said, “I think I should go back to Aunt Barbara.”
My voice didn’t sound quite right.
“I’ll take you,” he replied. His voice didn’t sound quite right either.
I never thought I would be happy to see my aunt, but right now she felt like safety. She gave the two of us an approving smile. “Very nice,” she said. “You did me credit, the both of you.”
“Thank you,” Evan said.
I didn’t say anything.
At this point, Lizzie came up with her partner, to whom Aunt Barbara gave an especially gracious smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight, Your Grace. I thought you were among those who found Almack’s unbearably insipid.”
The gentleman, who was tall and slim and handsome, with wavy dark brown hair and clear hazel eyes, smiled back. “I was pressed into service by my mother. She has a goddaughter who is making her first appearance tonight and my mother wanted me to escort her.”
“Who is she?” Aunt Barbara asked curiously.
He nodded toward a tall, brown-haired girl who was standing across the floor from them. “Miss Hamlin. My mother and hers have been bosom friends for years.”
“We’re lucky to have my cousin Evan escort us,” Lizzie said. “My father hates London. He was thrilled when he heard that he didn’t have to come.”
The Duke smiled at Evan. “Glad to meet you. It must have felt a little strange to an American, suddenly finding yourself an English earl.”
“It feels very strange,” Evan replied feelingly.
The music started up and the Duke said to Lizzie, “Thank you for the waltz, Miss Lewis.”
I said, “I thought you couldn’t dance the waltz until you had danced it with Evan first.”
Lizzie laughed. “It seems that dukes have more influence with the patronesses than we do.”
Evan said, “I hope that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to dance with me, Lizzie.”
“You shall have the next waltz,” she promised.
The duke smiled at me and politely asked me to dance. Politely, I accepted.
* * * *
Going home in the carriage, Aunt Barbara was ecstatic. The Duke of Morton had asked Lizzie to dance twice!
“You must know that he is the biggest catch on the marriage mart, my love,” she said. “Ha
s been for years.”
“I thought you said Lord Ormesby was the biggest catch,” I said.
“Not as big as Morton. A duke! Can you imagine being a duchess, Lizzie?”
“Mama,” Lizzie said practically, “he danced with me twice. He didn’t propose to me. Calm yourself, please.”
“Is a duke more important than an earl?” Evan asked curiously.
“A duke is the highest rank of nobility below the royal family,” Lady Barbara said. “Really, Evan, did your father teach you nothing?”
“Americans aren’t interested in titles,” Evan replied.
“You do have to admit that when the Americans made their revolution, they followed through with it,” Lizzie said. “Washington became a president, not a king. The French didn’t have as much luck. They ended up with an emperor.”
“An excellent point, Lizzie,” Evan said warmly.
“I saw you dancing twice with Mr. Winston,” Aunt Barbara said to me. “He’s not an eligible parti for you, Julia. I believe he has a small inheritance from his uncle, but it’s not enough to support a wife and family.” Her tone of voice was adamant.
“I only danced with him, Aunt Barbara,” I said. “He didn’t propose.”
“I don’t know what he was doing at Almack’s,” she went on with palpable annoyance. “According to Sally Jersey he never comes.”
“He came tonight to oblige a friend,” I said. “He is up in London looking for a new hunter.”
“What kind of a fellow is he?” Evan asked abruptly.
“He hunts with the Quorn!” I said.
“The Quorn is a very famous hunt,” Lizzie kindly explained to Evan.
“I’ll never understand the fun in galloping across rough country and jumping stone fences, all to catch a little fox,” Evan said. “I did it once and that was enough for me.”
“And I’ll never understand the fun of crossing a huge and dangerous ocean in a little boat!” I shot back.
“I make money doing that,” he pointed out. “What money is there in chasing a fox?”
“Money isn’t everything in life,” I said. “But you Americans don’t seem to understand that.”