Chapter 6
In their first few weeks in London, Sophia managed to avoid several of the season’s more popular balls, simply because Dorothea was not there to scold her into attending, and her mother was not passionate enough about going to bestir herself.
It had been an easy thing for Sophia to appease her mother’s expectations and her own conscience by attending some of the smaller dinners and routs—ones where she was confident she might largely go unnoticed.
Dorothea, however, had begun to chafe under the necessity of remaining housebound and launched a small revolt against her husband by vowing that if he didn’t allow her the pleasure of attending even one ball, she would be tempted to take one of their more spirited mares out for an extended ride.
This was pure provocation, but even Miles knew his wife well enough to realize he could not force her to rest against her will.
Besides, she was asking for nothing more than an evening’s entertainment where she would not be required to exert herself more than what was needed for conversation.
Therefore, Sophia found herself preparing for her first large ball of the season, sitting before the dressing table while Margery set her curls with decorative sprigs of dark purple flowers sewn to small hair combs.
She had chosen a pale lilac satin for her gown with beaded glass trim around the cap sleeves and bodice, and a dark purple ribbon sewn to the empire waistline.
Her mother had fortified herself for an evening out by resting the entire day, and by the time she joined Sophia in the drawing room—over an hour after they were supposed to have left—it almost seemed she was looking forward to it.
Having arrived late, she and her mother were admitted into Lord and Lady Berkley’s house to find the hall empty of people.
Fortunately, the hosts were still greeting the last of the arrivals, so Lady Poole and Sophia had not missed the opportunity to pay their respects before the Berkleys left their post. The warmth that emanated from the ballroom was welcoming after the chill of the outdoors, but the ballroom was already dreadfully crowded, and Sophia had to fight the urge to turn around and run back to the carriage.
One advantage of this evening’s entertainment was that Marie would be in attendance.
A fortnight had passed since the dinner at the admiral’s house, and they had met several times in their homes since.
That was how she had learned that Marie had again met Mr. Harwood at an intimate supper gathering.
Although Sophia had ventured to ask who else was in attendance, she could not discern whether Marie had a particular interest in him.
It was a wretched feeling not to know, but she must simply resign herself to allowing fate to follow its course.
If the season concluded with Mr. Harwood and Marie making a match, why then, they were meant to end up together.
Nothing Sophia could do would reverse the outcome.
At least, she tried to tell herself that.
“Good evening, Lady Poole. I am so pleased you were able to come.” Lady Berkley made no mention of their tardy arrival, for which Sophia was grateful.
Then she touched her husband’s arm. “Do you remember, my dear, when Lady Sophia and her sister came to last year’s ball so newly arrived in London for their first season? ”
Her husband did not, but he assured his wife that he had, and how fine they had looked.
Sophia was surprised that Lady Berkley had remembered their attendance last year out of all the guests.
It had been their very first ball and, at Dorothea’s insistence, had come the same day they had arrived in London.
With the greetings exchanged, Lady Berkley informed them that, following another dance set, they would be ushering the guests into the supper room for the evening’s repast, which she hoped they would find to their satisfaction.
Lady Poole murmured her assurances, and they turned to enter the ballroom. They had arrived late, indeed.
In the ballroom, Sophia was swallowed up by the crowds and became distressed, fearful that someone might catch her unaware and require something of her.
That a person might speak to her and find her uninteresting—or ask her to dance, only to realize she had little to offer in the way of conversation.
Any dance she accepted was usually void of pleasure, for she only wearied herself in the attempts to think of something to say.
To her relief, Dorothea and Miles had spotted them and were moving their way.
“Good evening, Mama,” Dorothea said, kissing her on the cheek. Miles added his greetings, and she turned to Sophia. “In attending tonight, you have obeyed the letter, but not the spirit, for you are late. Were you hoping to miss all of the dances?”
Before Sophia could reply, her mother owned herself to be at fault. “We were to leave on time—or, at least only a little bit late—but I became convinced that I would grow chilled in the gown I had chosen and was forced to change.”
“I see,” Dorothea replied placidly. Her obvious pleasure in attending a ball appeared to have removed all of her usual impatience with her mother.
“In any case, there will be the supper dance soon. Mama, shall I take you to speak to Lady Isabelle? She is here.” Lady Isabelle was Miles’s mother, and the connection through marriage had allowed the two women to strike up a friendship.
“Oh, is she?” Lady Poole brightened visibly. “I should like that very much.”
Sophia would have followed them, except that she saw Marie coming—a bright beacon parting the crowds on her way to her.
“I am glad you are here,” Marie said after a brief clasp of her hands, “for I wished to introduce you to someone I have just met.”
Sophia glanced back at Dorothea, who gave a little wave to indicate she should amuse herself, before leading their mother to Lady Isabelle. Sophia went with Marie, and as they skirted the crowds, leaned in to ask, “Who is it?”
“It is Mr. Edwards’s sister, Regina Edwards. She is a delight—the most unassuming and pleasant girl, and so full of industry. You will like her, for she has the same philanthropic bent that you do.”
What false praise was this? Sophia tugged her to a stop, her brows knit. “I am hardly philanthropic—no more than you are. I am nothing like Annabelle Moore.” Annabelle was the reverend’s daughter, who frequently visited the poor and never lost the opportunity to speak about the work she did there.
“Annabelle Moore performs her acts of service so that all may see. I would not speak ill of the reverend’s daughter, for I am sure there is goodness blended in with what she does.
However, your heart is philanthropic, impossible to distinguish from your acts.
You take every opportunity your natural reserve will allow to relieve the sufferings of the poor. ”
Sophia had always known her friend saw the best in her, but she was touched by this glowing description. It rather made her seem like a woman whose traits included boldness, even if it was bold on behalf of the poor. Of course, that was just a friend’s affection speaking.
Before they moved on, Sophia glanced over at the set in progress and caught sight of Mr. Harwood dancing the reel with energy and grace. His partner was a pretty girl who executed her steps with a bounce, accompanied by giggles.
“Mr. Harwood is here,” she observed. She could not help herself.
“I know it. We have already spoken, and he requested a dance from me.” Marie turned to look at Sophia. “You should dance with him as well if he asks. He would be a comfortable partner for you, for he is not difficult to talk to.”
“No, he is not.”
They pushed forward through the crowds again, and Sophia’s feelings were painfully conflicted.
A glimmer of hope had shot through her when Marie encouraged her to dance with Mr. Harwood, which could lead one to believe she was not interested in him.
But then, a second, more sober thought followed the first: Marie was so at ease in Mr. Harwood’s presence she could distribute his dances to other ladies and be sure he would oblige.
That was more likely the sum of the matter.
“Miss Edwards, I wish to present you to my dearest friend, Lady Sophia.” Marie came to a stop before a plain woman of short stature, whose features were transformed when she smiled. She did so now, as she dropped into a curtsy.
“A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” Miss Edwards appeared perfectly at ease in a Society ball.
Not even the introduction to someone new gave her pause.
“I am thankful that my brother introduced me to Miss Mowbray, for I know few people here. I have come out only this season, and this is my first ball.”
Sophia found it easy to smile back and found her even more courageous after learning it was her first ball. One would never have guessed it. “It is mine, too. That is—my first ball this season. I attended several last year.”
“Ah, so you must be more at ease than I am at this one. Your gown is very pretty,” Miss Edwards added.
She was spared from returning more than a thank you, for Marie spoke again. “Miss Edwards has offered to give us a tour of the Royal Naval Asylum any day that we are free. I assured her that you would be interested in visiting it, as would I.”
“My father is on the committee there, and I am involved with sorting through the donations as we receive them,” Miss Edwards explained.
“The asylum is for children whose fathers have been killed at sea while fighting for the crown. They are given board, a place to sleep, and instruction. My hope is to bring the children’s needs to Society’s attention.
Perhaps, if you are pleased with the good works we are doing there, you might wish to assist me in this endeavor?
But there is no need to make any promises until you have seen it for yourself. ”