10. The Midwinter Assembly
CHAPTER 10
The Midwinter Assembly
A week had passed since the tragic fire at the Flytes’ cottage, and the couple had been peacefully laid to rest. Shaun had braced for a nasty sermon at church, and feared the vicar might make some kind of veiled attack at the Baxter women. Instead, the Reverend seemed subdued on Sunday. He spoke of the fires, which had Shaun sitting up and paying attention. Alas, this veered off towards a lesson on the fires of hell that awaited those who fall into temptation, which Shaun felt free to ignore.
Hatfield had been quite a mournful place since the fatal fire, but a few days later, the townsfolk seemed to be finding a little seasonal cheer as Christmas approached.
As he enjoyed a meal in the Red Lion, he noticed everyone seemed to be talking about a dance that was to take place the following evening.
“You going, Mr Jackson?” Hugh Fox, one of the men he had hired, asked. Shaun was sitting in the dining room sharing a meal with his three men, that delicious soup which was a recipe from Louise’s mother.
“Maybe you can dance with Miss Baxter,” Hugh’s brother John said slyly, and Riot Jones laughed, obviously comprehending well enough the direction of the conversation even though they were speaking English.
Shaun’s mood dampened. “I don’t know if a lady like her would even attend.” He immediately started thinking about what it would be like to dance with Louise. It had been a long time since he danced, and although his mother had taught him well, Mrs Jackson had been the last woman he’d been able to dance with who he didn’t feel like a giant beside.
“Faint heart ne’er won fair lady,” Hugh said with a grin. “Why don’t you ask her?”
“Why don’t the three of you stop sticking your noses in my personal life and go find this damn firebug?” His heart wasn’t in the reprimand, even as he repeated it in Welsh for Riot’s benefit, and all three men grinned at him. Riot and John pretended to start dancing a reel as they left, and Shaun laughed quietly to himself. They were good men, and now extremely loyal to him and Lord Ferndale. Hugh and John had even begun to talk of staying, if they could get long-term work on the farms once spring came, though Riot still wanted to go home to Wrecsam. Shaun had promised to pay his passage once they caught the arsonist.
Finishing his soup, Shaun found his feet carrying him back to the bookshop. “No, you don’t, Crafty,” he said, bending to scoop up the black cat as she tried to dart between his feet. She purred at him when he scratched the heart-shaped white spot on her chest, quite used to him by now.
Louise was smiling at him from behind the counter in a way which made Shaun feel rather like purring himself, and he set Crafty down, tilting his head to look at Louise thoughtfully. “Is that a new scarf, Miss Baxter? Haven’t seen you wearing it before. Suits you.” It was a pretty colour on her, a lovely emerald-green.
“Oh. Well, thank you!” She touched it. “It’s not new, but I did just find it in the bottom of my drawer today and decided to wear it. My sister Marie knitted it last winter.”
“Brings out the green in your eyes.” He leaned on the counter, gazing into said pretty eyes, and said hopefully, “I was wondering, everyone in the Red Lion is talking about the Midwinter Assembly dance tomorrow night. I was wondering if you’d attend? Or if it’s just for the common folk, like…”
“Oh, no!” Louise beamed at him. “It’s two shillings per person to attend, so not really for the common folk at all, though some do save up to go. The fee goes to the hospital committee fund, you see, and of course Mrs Poole is on the committee, so we Baxters definitely attend.”
“Ah!” He’d heard all about Mrs Poole and the committees. His landlady, Mrs Bell, was an excellent source of local knowledge. She had nothing but nice things to say about Mrs Poole and the Baxter girls, though she was rather disapproving of Mr Matthew Baxter having pushed off to France on a book hunting expedition and leaving the girls on their own, capable though they seemed to be.
“Are you going to attend?” Louise asked, a little diffidently.
“Only if you’ll promise to dance with me.”
She blushed a very pretty shade of pink. “Well, I rarely dance.”
“Why ever not? A beautiful girl like you should have suitors lined up down the street to dance with you!” Shaun watched in fascination as Louise’s blush deepened even further, until she was quite red.
“Well, I… that’s extremely kind of you to say so, Mr Jackson.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, in an apparently vain effort to cool them. “Nobody has ever said anything like that to me before.”
“I can’t imagine why, you’re quite the prettiest girl in this town.”
“I… I… I’m taller than all the men here.” She sort of mumbled it, unable to meet his eyes.
“You’re certainly not taller than me, and I’ll be honoured to stand up with you as many times as you’ll allow me to.”
She laughed, he rather thought in disbelief, before flashing him a bright smile. “I think twice is probably as many as Mrs Poole will let me get away with, else she’ll send me straight home to bed.”
“Twice it shall be, then; I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with Mrs Poole. The first dance? And another one later.”
Louise agreed happily, and Shaun made his way back out to the street with a spring in his step.
Her body fizzing with anticipation, Louise took a good while longer to dress for this assembly than she had at the summer event. The lovely dress that had been made for her for Estelle’s wedding would be perfect for the evening. As much as she wanted to clip her hair up in the usual economical way she was used to, she sat, fidgeting the whole time, as Bernadette and Rosie fussed about, curling and pinning her tresses.
The result was rather lovely, as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Thank you, both. I would never have managed that myself.”
“Thank you, for letting us try the style,” Rosie said with a little bob of her head. “There are others we found in a magazine, we’d love to try them… if you’d let us.”
“That sounds like too much fun,” Louise said, glad the maid was saying more than two words at a time around her. Perhaps letting the young lass at her hair had done the trick?
“Pinch your cheeks,” Bernadette said. “Like this. It brings on a rosy glow.”
Mrs Poole laughed and said, “She doesn’t need it, she’s glowing already.”
Heat stole across Louise’s face, but she grinned at them all. “I must say, I do feel rather pretty. Thank you for indulging me.”
At the Red Lion, a sea of familiar faces greeted them, including Lord Ferndale and Miss Yates.
“I’m so glad you’re both here, and you look so well,” Louise said as she greeted them.
“I never miss an assembly, they are far too important,” Miss Yates said. “Your hair looks divine, as do you.”
Louise was overcome with the compliment. “Thank you so much, Miss Yates, that means the world to me.”
Lord Ferndale added, “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Bernadette asked after his health, and had another bottle of tonic for him. “How is your cough?”
“I forgot I had one,” he said, not yet accepting the bottle. “I haven’t even finished the last one. You keep that safe for someone who needs it more than I.”
“As long as you’re sure,” Bernadette said. “You need to be careful on the cold nights.”
“Stop fussing, that’s Florence’s job,” he replied with a fond glance at his sister.
The musicians tuned up their instruments and played a quick few notes to let people know the dancing would be starting soon.
Near the musicians stood their cousins, Joshua and Phoebe. To Louise’s surprise, Benjamin was standing with them.
Surely he was far too young to attend an assembly, though his height gave him an older appearance.
“Urgh, look who’s here,” Bernadette said, as they both tried very hard not to look. Several of the younger ladies of Hatfield were fluttering about, giggling behind their fans and looking Benjamin’s way. Obviously they had no idea of his bullying tendencies.
One of the local farmers approached Louise, a man she knew was named Mr Stratforth. He was another tall man but not quite as tall as Mr Jackson. He smiled and said, “You’re quite the prettiest girl here tonight, Miss Baxter. May I please have this dance?”
Louise beamed at the compliment and said, “You are very kind, and I thank you, but my first dance is spoken for. Perhaps the next?”
“Thank’ee,” Mr Stratforth said with a nod. “Much obliged.”
As if he’d planned such an entrance, the crowd parted and Shaun Jackson strolled toward her, his hand outstretched to take hers.
Oh goodness, he scrubbed up well! He was wearing a different coat to the one he normally wore, dark blue, with a waistcoat underneath in a slightly lighter blue colour. Had he bought them new for the occasion?
“I believe I have this dance, Miss Baxter?”
Louise smiled and pressed her hands into his as the dancers made their way to their positions for the country reel.
For such a large man, he was grace personified and light on his feet. His confidence radiated out to encompass Louise, who for the first time in her life felt pretty and light; possibly approaching elegant.
All her life she’d felt like a clumsy giant, dull in comparison with her prettier, smaller sisters. Tonight, with Shaun Jackson dancing with her, she could very well be the belle of the ball. She whirled and clapped and smiled so hard she thought her face might crack in two.
As the set ended, Shaun bowed to her and extended his arm, nodding towards the refreshment table. Quite warm from the dancing, Louise thought that a glass of punch would be rather nice and took his arm with a murmured thanks.
Her steps faltered as Phoebe swept into their path and stood facing her with arms folded, glaring down her thin nose at Louise. Or trying to, at least. Since Phoebe was so much shorter, she just looked rather silly with her head tipped too far back, as though she might be about to topple over at any moment.
Shaun simply tipped his head with a pleasant “Good evening, Mrs Baxter. How nice to see you again.”
“Mr Jackson.” Phoebe raked her gaze up and down his tall form with a dismissive sneer. She stepped aside, though as Louise walked past her, Phoebe said quite clearly, “We really must increase the entry fee for the assembly, if any old riff-raff think they can attend.”
Riff-raff! Louise was fuming. How dare she!
“Please ignore her,” she said quietly to Shaun. “Phoebe is a crashing snob at the best of times.”
“People have said far worse about me.” He gave an entirely unbothered shrug. “I don’t let such things concern me unless they’re accompanied by threats of violence.”
“Has that happened to you a great deal?” she asked curiously.
“Enough,” was all he said, handing her a glass of punch.
Bernadette came up then, smiling, and Shaun asked her if she had danced yet.
“Not yet.” Bernadette shook her head.
“Well, since your sister says I may only dance two sets with her, may I request one of yours?” he asked.
Bernadette hesitated, looking up at him, and Shaun laughed quietly. “I may be large, Miss Bernadette, but I promise I’m not clumsy. I won’t step on your feet.”
She looked a little sheepish, and held out her hand. “In that case, I should love to dance with you, Mr Jackson.”
Louise smiled as Bernadette cast her a sparkling, cheeky glance over her shoulder as she made her way to join the second set with Shaun. Bernadette had been almost a little afraid of Shaun at first, perhaps because of his sheer size, but over the last little while of him coming into the bookshop regularly and being unfailingly polite and charming, she had warmed to him.
Of course, she’d been teasing Louise about her interest from the very first moment. Louise sipped her punch and stood watching them dance, feeling rather pleased with herself.
“He’s a very good dancer, your Mr Jackson. Light on his feet for a giant,” Mrs Poole said, coming to stand beside Louise.
“Indeed he is,” Louise agreed happily.
“I hesitate to say anything to take that smile from your face, but Mrs Wellworth just raised a rather good point to me.”
“And what was that?” Louise’s eyes narrowed. Mrs Wellworth was one of Cousin Phoebe’s cronies. What poison was Phoebe spreading now?
“What do we know about Mr Jackson, truthfully?”
Louise was just opening her mouth to say that she knew quite a lot about him, really, when Mrs Poole added gently, “That he hasn’t told us himself.”
Louise froze, her mouth still open, and turned her head to meet Mrs Poole’s gaze. The older woman looked really quite concerned.
“We don’t even know if it’s his real name,” Mrs Poole pointed out. “Nor that he even comes from Yorkshire. That accent of his comes and goes like the breeze.”
She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to think. “He has a gentleman’s education,” she finally said, a little numbly.
“I will certainly give you that,” Mrs Poole agreed. “And a facility with languages. His French is almost as good as yours, and he certainly speaks Welsh well enough with Mr Jones.”
Louise looked across the room, to where Shaun was smiling genially down at Bernadette as they danced. She despised that she was even entertaining the possibility, but it was true that nobody in Hatfield knew anything about Shaun Jackson for sure.
“Lord Ferndale employed him,” she mused aloud. “Perhaps he gave Lord Ferndale references?”
“Now that’s a very good point, Louise. I’m sure Lord Ferndale would have checked them, too.” Mrs Poole nodded. “I might have a word with Miss Yates…” She drifted away, leaving Louise alone with her thoughts.
“Good evening again, Miss Baxter,” a voice said, and she summoned a polite smile for Mr Stratforth, the farmer who had asked her to dance earlier. “I don’t suppose you’re available for the next set?”
“I am, as it happens.” She couldn’t think of a good reason to decline to dance, and if she did, she wouldn’t be able to give Shaun the second dance she’d promised him. Despite the doubts Mrs Poole might have planted in her mind, Louise still did want that second dance with Shaun.
Louise was half way through her dance with Mr Stratforth, busily turning over in her mind subtle questions she might ask Shaun to find out more about him, when she realised Mr Stratforth was not so subtly hinting that he was ready to take a wife. And that he had his eye on her as a potential candidate.
“Of course, my wife wouldn’t have to do cooking and cleaning,” he was telling her. “I’ve a cook and two housemaids.”
“That’s, ah, fortunate,” Louise said, not sure how she should respond.
“An educated wife would be a boon, though. Help me write letters and such, to other breeders. Keep track of the cattle’s pedigrees. I’ve three prize-winning bulls and I get a lot of requests for their services.”
“How fortunate.” Drat, she’d already used that word, but also, this was something of an inappropriate topic for an assembly. He was a farmer, even if apparently a very successful one.
“I have a hundred and ten acres,” he said proudly. “The best grazing land in Hertfordshire, with good water even in drought; our dairy cattle have never dried up even in the worst years.”
“That’s…” she would not say fortunate again, “Providential.”
Urgh! It meant the same thing! How was she going to escape what was possibly the dullest conversation she’d ever been subjected to?
“We’re only about three miles out of town. I’d buy my wife a pony and trap, if she had family in Hatfield she wanted to visit, perhaps…”
“How generous.” A thought struck Louise, and she had to suppress the urge to giggle. A month ago, I’d never had so much as a sniff of a suitor. And now, it appears I might have two!
As she danced, she caught sight of Shaun across the room, talking with Lord Ferndale. Shaun’s eyes were on her, however, and his expression was… Louise wasn’t quite sure how to define it, but he definitely did not look pleased.
Is he jealous? The thought was so startling - nobody had ever been jealous over her before! - that it took her a few moments to process how she felt about it.
Perhaps it was rather nice to have someone - to have Shaun - feel jealous over her. Louise smiled happily, and the hapless Mr Stratforth, who had been gazing hopefully at her while reciting a list of his favourite heifers’ names - almost fell over his own feet.
What a lovely evening. And another dance with Shaun to look forward to! Louise firmly put any doubts about him out of her mind - blast Phoebe for spreading horrid gossip anyway - and decided to enjoy herself.