Chapter 7 A Grand Ball #2
A friend! A female friend, at that. How strange the ways of the world! He had left London in search of a commission, and instead he had found a most unexpected friendship.
***
Sophia was ready for the ball long before the appointed hour.
While Lady Emma and Lady Maria were still driving their maids to distraction by dithering over which gown to wear and how to dress their hair, Sophia was already skipping down the stairs to the drawing room to await dinner.
Naturally, she had pretended to dither over her gowns, too, for what self-respecting girl would not?
But in fact she had settled on her present gown as soon as she had known of the ball, for its pale green silk skirt with spangled net tunic made it the most exquisite of all her ball gowns.
She had agonised a little over the correct ornaments, but seeing how formal everyone at Marshfields was even for a regular dinner, she had decided to throw caution to the winds and wear diamonds at her throat and ears, with a sparkling headband to match.
Sadly, she had no diamond bracelets to wear, but she had some set with peridot which would look well with her gown.
The disadvantage to arriving early was the long wait for everyone else to arrive.
Luckily, the first was a bouncy girl from Yorkshire with a mass of black curls who was just as excited as Sophia, even though she already had a husband, and therefore had nothing at all to hope for from the ball beyond the pleasure of dancing.
She chattered away, relieving Sophia of any need to speak, apart from an occasional ‘Oh, yes, indeed,’ and ‘I quite agree.’
Eventually, everyone else appeared and dinner commenced, only one course tonight, which caused some grumbling from the men. Lady Juliet’s lighter tones could be heard berating her hapless dinner companion.
“There will be a hot supper later, so you will not starve.”
“It is all very well for you,” the young gentleman complained. “At supper, you ladies are kept supplied by the good offices of the gentlemen, and we are so busy attending to your needs that we are lucky to get any left-over scraps when you have all sated yourselves.”
She only laughed. “I shall keep a jelly or two for you, Lord Daniel.”
“Invalid’s pap,” he muttered.
“Well, a lobster patty, then. You cannot turn up your nose at that, now can you?”
“Rather have a good slice of mutton, frankly. I shall be glad when this wretched ball is over and we can eat properly, and no nonsensical jigging about and pretending we are enjoying ourselves, either.”
She shook her head, not at all discomfited. “There is no pleasing you, sir.”
Sophia laid down her knife and fork as she puzzled over this conversation.
A wretched ball? Nonsensical jigging about?
It was incomprehensible to her, although she saw a number of the gentlemen nodding their heads in agreement.
How strange men were! Lord Daniel, whoever he was, looked a pleasant sort of man, a little younger than she was, and surely capable of jigging about for a few hours without great distress. Was it truly such a trial to a man?
But perhaps he was married already, and therefore saw little point in it. She wondered idly if she herself would lose interest in dancing if she were married, but such a state seemed so impossibly out of reach that she could not imagine it.
Dinner was soon over, and the true purpose of the evening could begin.
Sophia was filled with the usual flutter of excitement.
A ball was such a delightful well of possibilities.
Tonight her life might change utterly. All it would take is one man — just one — to notice her, not merely as a dancing partner but as a person…
as a woman… as a potential wife. Surely there was one man in the world whose eyes would light up when they saw her?
But she must not get her hopes up too high.
There had been several over the years who had appeared to favour her, but nothing had ever come of it.
It was not smiles in the ballroom that mattered, it was whether he would appear the next day, still smiling, and the day after that…
So far, in almost eleven years, not one had ever lasted the course.
Still, tonight might be different, who could say? There was always hope.
Sophia and her mama found seats near the mid-point of the Great Gallery, where they could watch the arrivals and were well placed for prospective partners to notice Sophia.
She discovered that, while she had spent the past days identifying possible gentlemen of interest, her mother had spent her time with the matrons more fruitfully.
“Never mind the men,” she said to Sophia in a low voice. “Time enough to find out about them if they show an interest. It is the girls — your rivals — we need to watch. Now, that one in pink—”
“So pretty!” Sophia sighed.
“Betrothed,” Mama said crisply. “The two blonde girls with the woman in puce have no dowries, so we need not regard them. The one in blue with the sapphire pendant — goodness, do you suppose that is real? Heavens! Well, she is a widow with three children, so she is not likely to be a problem. But that one… do you see who I mean?” She angled her fan to point discreetly.
“The girl in white with that long curl over one shoulder… what a flattering style that is! It might do for Charlotte, since her hair is a little longer than yours. Anyway, the girl in white is an earl’s daughter with twenty thousand, so she will be popular.
And the girl with the peculiar headband — such an odd arrangement!
I am glad none of my girls succumb to such monstrosities. You all have excellent taste.”
“We had your example to follow, Mama,” Sophia said. “You are quite the best dressed chaperon here.”
“Oh… well… my goodness! You flatter me, my dear, for I am sure… one does one’s best, but on such a modest jointure, one is somewhat constrained. We are mingling with ducal families here. There is no comparison.”
“They may spend more money on their clothes, but not to such good effect,” Sophia said sturdily, for she was sure that her mother was as well-dressed as anyone there. “If you had the jewels that some of them wear, you would look finer than anyone. Tell me about the girl with the headband.”
“Oh yes! Only five thousand at present, but her brother is heir to a man of great wealth from Cornwall or Devon or some such outlandish place, and as soon as he inherits, she will have more. But I do not think she is very pretty, do you? She looks sulky.”
In this way, they passed the time as the Great Gallery filled up and the musicians took their places and began to warm up their instruments.
Some of Mama’s friends joined her and brought an end to the discussion, but Sophia did not mind.
If she could not talk, she could watch the swirl of silken skirts and the sparkle of diamonds and admire the shapely legs of some of the gentlemen, on display in their evening breeches and stockings.
And then — oh joy! — the musicians fell silent, the leading couples began to take their places in the first set and there was a gentleman bowing before her, an older woman, his mother, presumably, making the introduction and Sophia was swept into the lower reaches of the set.
Mr Cadell… she must remember everything, so she could report to Maria…
no, it was Charlotte’s turn for the next letter.
Mr Cadell… perhaps thirty years of age, neatly dressed, she could say no more than that, and with sadly spindly legs.
Hair a nondescript brown colour, arranged in what he probably thought was a fashionably Brummell-like style but in fact looked as if he were leaning into a stiff breeze.
Features… hmm, attractive eyes, nose a little too large and mouth too thin-lipped.
But he proved to be adept in the dance when the movement finally reached them, and an easy conversationalist. She discovered that he was a Surrey neighbour of the Duke of Camberley, had three brothers and two sisters, and he was the second son, with two good livings to his name.
He was at pains to tell her that his pasturage was the best in the county and his income was no less than a thousand a year.
Yet even as he danced, his eyes were assessing the other young ladies, settling often on the earl’s daughter in white, the one with a dowry of twenty thousand.
Ah well, Sophia could not compete with that.
Her second partner was the same Lord Daniel who had so disparaged the very idea of a ball.
Yet in the event, he proved to be a most agreeable partner, setting himself to entertain her and not boring her with inane flattery or dull tales of his prowess in the hunting field.
He was a son of the Marquess of Pentavon, he told her, when she asked, and said nothing more about himself, turning all her questions aside with a little smile and, ‘Oh, I am not a very interesting person, Miss Merrington. But do tell me more about your home in Norwich. I have never been there, but the cathedral is magnificent, so I hear.’ She passed a pleasant a half hour, and returned to her place by her mama well pleased with him.
There was another source of pleasure, too, for she had spotted Mr Payne wandering around with his sketch book, amiably recording every detail of the evening for her.
He seemed to be following her about, so that when she and her partner moved down the set, so did Mr Payne, and when they danced their way back up again, he followed, all the while drawing furiously.
She could hardly wait to see the results.
After Lord Daniel, she was solicited by a taciturn and rather stout Mr Withers, and then a very tall and aristocratic Lord James, although she never caught his surname.
After that, she was obliged to sit out, but to her delight, Mr Payne came to sit beside her, to show her his numerous sketches.
Some of them were of details — a lady’s fan, a turban, a vase of flowers — but most were of the dancers.
“Why am I in so many of the drawings?” she said, puzzled. “There are more than twenty couples in most sets, but I seem to be well to the fore on almost every page.”
“I have been trying to capture the movements of your gown as you dance, and your feet also, and the way you hold your arms. It is illuminating to repeat the same sketch, to see if I am improving. Do you see? This was my first effort, which does not, to my mind, encapsulate the exuberance of your dancing, but this one here is much better, do you not agree? And this last one… I think I have caught you perfectly.”
“I certainly look as if I am enjoying myself,” she murmured, amused.
“Oh yes! I have generally hidden away in the card room on the rare occasions when Juliet has dragged me to a ball, so it has been a revelation to me how much enjoyment you derive from the simple act of dancing. Miss Merrington, I believe that gentleman is waiting to speak to you.”
She looked up to see Lord Daniel hovering awkwardly nearby, twisting his hands about.
“I wondered…” he began, his voice rather high, before he coughed and began again in a more normal tone. “I wondered if perhaps… if you are not otherwise engaged… if I might secure your hand for the Cotillion after supper.”
A second dance! Oh, such joy! She stammered her acceptance, he smiled with obvious pleasure, bowed and walked away, leaving her in a glow of happiness.