Chapter 13 #2
Nat concentrated on his cravat, casting a surreptitious glance at Jenkins to see how this had been received.
“Lose me, sir?” Jenkins repeated, his eyes almost on stalks.
“And have some… some inexperienced fribble dressing you—in foreign parts? Good heavens above. How could you think it? How could you believe I would abandon you, that I would allow my own personal feelings, my own digestion and comfort to—”
“Excellent! So you’ll come, then?” Nat interrupted, knowing that once Jenkins had gone off on a soliloquy of this nature, it might be some time before he could be calmed down again.
“I will follow you wherever you desire to go, sir,” Jenkins said solemnly.
Nat hid a grin and slapped the fellow on the shoulder. “Good man, and you never know, you might like it.”
Jenkins groaned.
“Can I look now?” Meg demanded, possibly for the tenth time, for Betty had covered the mirror with a sheet and refused to allow her a peek so far. She fidgeted on the stool in front of the dressing table, desperate to see what wonders Betty had managed this time.
“In a minute!” Betty muttered, her mouth full of hairpins.
Meg knew the dress was lovely, having been dying for the opportunity to wear it since the moment she had laid eyes on it.
It had a white satin slip, elegantly trimmed with white crepe, and delicately adorned with little red silk roses.
She was wearing it with the lovely pearls Nat had provided her, and a Spanish corsage of crimson sarsnet, beautifully trimmed with silk.
It seemed at once light and simple, yet seasonal, and Betty had secured some red silk flowers to put in her hair, which had been styled a la grecque.
“There!”
Betty stood back, gesturing for Meg to get to her feet, and then hurried forward, smoothing out any creases in the skirts and giving a tweak here and a little adjustment there.
“Now can I look?” Meg demanded, beside herself with impatience.
“You may,” Betty said grandly. “And if it don’t knock your eyes out, there’s something wrong with you.”
Meg laughed as Betty swept the sheet from the looking glass, but her laughter died, replaced by a little gasp as she surveyed the elegant creature looking back at her.
“Oh, Betty,” she whispered, quite stunned. “Is that really me?”
Betty came and stood beside her, regarding her handiwork with satisfaction. “It is, miss, and a little bit of me, if you don’t mind my presumption.”
“I don’t. Not in the least. You’ve worked a miracle,” Meg said, close to tears.
“Don’t be daft. It ain’t no miracle when there’s such a pretty face and figure to work with. Now, then. That fellow of yours will be here any moment, so don’t go sobbing and ruining all my work.”
“I won’t,” Meg promised, sniffing and laughing. “Thank you, Betty. I’m so very glad Nat recommended you. You’ve been such a blessing.”
She reached out and hugged the girl, who looked quite overcome herself. “Now stop that or you’ll set me off,” Betty said crossly. “You just have a wonderful time, and I’ll look forward to hearing all about it later.”
As if on cue, Nat knocked at the door and Meg took a breath. “Wish me luck.”
Betty snorted. “I think you’ve had your fair share of luck, miss. You don’t need any more. Run along, now.”
Meg hurried to the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the corridor. Nat’s eyes widened as he saw her, a slow smile curving over his mouth.
“Nathaniel Ashford, you are a lucky dog,” he said, shaking his head. “You look perfectly edible.”
Meg blushed, though the rather illustrative description did not displease her.
“You look splendid too, Nat. So very handsome,” she said admiringly, feeling suddenly a little shy. Nathaniel Ashford was always a handsome fellow, but the elegant evening clothes he wore elevated him to such a degree he took her breath away.
“Well, I wanted to do you proud, and Jenkins wouldn’t have let me do otherwise,” he added with a laugh.
“How did he take the news of our intention to travel?” she asked anxiously, knowing Nat had been concerned he might give notice.
Nat smiled. “I need not have worried. I’ve no doubt he’ll complain every step of the way, about the food, the weather, the accommodation not being what he’s used to, and heaven only knows what else, but he’s devoted to me for some strange reason.”
Meg squeezed his arm, gazing up at him. “I don’t find it at all strange.”
“Perhaps I’m not such a bad bargain after all,” he remarked, grinning at her. “Though I warn you, if you keep saying such things, it might go to my head.”
“I will keep your feet on the ground, don’t worry,” she assured him gravely, but then discovered she could not speak another word as they entered the ballroom.
They had opted not to stand with the family, greeting all the guests as they arrived, though they had been invited to do so.
Meg had felt this made her look somewhat presumptuous and did not want the people who might one day be her neighbours to have this first impression of her.
So, the butler announced them as they entered the room, finding their way through the throng.
The ballroom at Hatherley Hall was not the largest, Little Valentine being a small town, but the turnout would certainly thrill the dowager, for the place was packed.
The servants made their way around with difficulty, delivering glasses of champagne and the sound of chatter and excited voices filled the room.
They greeted Nat’s mother, who looked ravishing in a gown of emerald-green silk, but she was enjoying a gentle flirtation with an older man whom Nat introduced as Lord Tisdall and was not much interested in their interrupting.
Lord Tisdall, an elegant man with greying fair hair, seemed a kind fellow and greeted them warmly, but had no more interest in them that Lady Louisa did.
“I wonder if that was my new step-papa,” Nat whispered as he led Meg away.
“Really?”
He grinned at her and nodded. “The poor devil’s been infatuated for two decades that I know of. I hope he wins her. Lord knows she needs a sensible man to keep her from folly.”
“She’s lonely,” Meg observed, feeling a swell of empathy for his mother.
“Yes, but hopefully not for long. Ah, there’s Gee-Gee,” he said with relief, guiding Meg through the melee to his grandmother.
Della and Vinnie and Miss Percy were beside her and Della gave a cry of delight as she saw Meg.
Della looked lovely in a gown of silver grey, embellished with hundreds of sparkling silver beads, but it was her smile that transformed her.
She looked radiant and happy and every man in the place could not help but turn to admire her.
“Here,” she said, handing over a tiny little booklet. It opened like a fan, with the front and back page in mother-of-pearl, with tiny sheets of paper in between and a miniature pencil dangling from a silken string. “I forgot to give yours to you yesterday.”
“Oh, she doesn’t need that,” Nat said, taking it from Della before Meg could. “All her dances are mine.”
“Hold a moment,” Aubrey said, snatching the dance card from Nat. “That’s not right at all. For I’ve a dance with her.”
Nat tried to grab it back, but Aubrey was too quick.
“That had better not be a waltz,” Nat grumbled. “There’s only to be two and they’re both mine.”
“Keep your hair on. I claimed a country dance,” Aubrey said, handing the card back to Nat, who hurriedly pencilled his name in beside the two waltzes. He glanced at Meg before handing it back.
“That was presumptuous,” he said apologetically.
“No, it wasn’t,” Meg replied, laughing and looping the string about her wrist. “I don’t wish to waltz with anyone else. No offence, Aubrey.”
“None taken,” he replied with a grin.
“Well, it’s a crush and no mistake,” the dowager said with satisfaction, turning away from her conversation with Miss Percy to regard them all with a smug expression.
She looked as regal as ever, dressed in a gown of dark burgundy, heavily ornamented with Vandyke lace.
Her hair gleamed white, and the Seymour rubies glittered in the light of hundreds of candles.
They were impressive jewels, square cut and surrounded by diamonds.
The lavish set included not only bracelets and a stunning necklace, but a tiara, which made the old lady look like a queen.
“It’s a grand success, Gee-Gee. Your old cronies in town won’t be able to top it, I’m sure of that,” Nat assured her.
Gee-Gee preened, inclining her head in gracious acknowledgement of this statement.
Hawkney appeared then, looking as remote and elegant as always.
His dark auburn hair glinted red in the light, and Meg wondered if that was why the Seymour jewels were rubies, for she could imagine what they would look like on Della, with the rubies sparkling and setting fiery highlights off in her thick auburn tresses.
“A wonderful success, Grandmother. You are to be congratulated,” he said, taking her hand and bowing over it.
“Thank you, Hawkney. Coming from you, that is quite the compliment,” she said graciously, before gesturing to an older man Meg had not noticed, standing a little way off. He walked closer at her invitation.
“Good evening, your grace,” the fellow said, bowing to the dowager, before greeting the duke likewise.
“Nathaniel, Miss Bancroft, might I introduce Mr Bartlett, a friend of mine. Mr Bartlett, my grandson, Mr Nathaniel Ashcroft, and Miss Margaret Bancroft.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” the fellow said, shaking Nat’s hand, before turning to Meg. He was a tall man, well-built and with thick iron-grey hair that was turning white at the temples. She thought him to be approaching sixty, though he looked hale and hearty.
“Miss Bancroft, how do you do? I understand this is your first ball. How are you enjoying it so far?”