Chapter 8 Disappointment #2
He wandered about the house for some time until he chanced on the Great Gallery, and there she was, on the same seat where he had found her yesterday.
The scene was very different now. Only a few lamps were lit, far down the gallery where a couple of housemaids on their knees were scrubbing away the last of the chalk dust from the floor.
Two footmen were removing chairs in a desultory fashion.
Sophia’s exuberantly swinging legs were gone, too, now decorously still on the floor, and her hands sat motionless in her lap.
As for her face, he had never seen such a woebegone expression.
“Why so sad, Miss Merrington?”
“Oh… oh, Mr Payne. Good morning… or is it afternoon already?”
“I believe it is past the noon hour,” he said, sitting down beside her.
“Everything is so flat the day after a ball,” she said disconsolately, her head drooping. “After all the anticipation, and then the event itself… it is all over. Finished. Gone for ever.”
“But still in your memory,” he said. “You may reflect upon your triumphs of last night with some satisfaction. You stood up for almost every dance, after all.”
She turned her face fully towards him, and he was struck by how pale she was.
“Is that your definition of a triumph, sir?” A little smile washed across her face, almost instantly vanishing.
“I wish it were so. Oh, do not mistake me, for I enjoyed myself prodigiously and was fortunate in having agreeable partners. Well… most of them, anyway.”
“Not the short, fat one who never said a word.”
She giggled. “Oh yes, Mr Withers! He was not very easy to talk to, it is true. And there was Mr Caplin, who prosed on forever about his new horse. And the clergyman who kept apologising for his missteps, although he was funny, in his way. One does meet some odd people, sometimes.”
“There was one who solicited you for a second dance.”
“There was! Lord Daniel… oh, what was his name? Torbuck, that was it. I wrote them all down as soon as I got back to my room, so that I could remember.”
“For the next letter to… who is the fortunate recipient who will be told of the ball?”
“Charlotte, but there is too much to put in one letter, even though it will be franked. Apparently there are a dozen peers of the realm in the house at present, and a couple of Members of Parliament, too, so there is not the least difficulty in getting a letter franked. Or several letters… I expect it will take three or four to my sisters to convey every detail of the evening properly.”
“What is properly, Miss Merrington?”
“One must name all one’s partners, naturally, and describe each one, and who they danced with after.
Then there are the other young ladies, and who they danced with.
And then there are the ladies’ gowns and jewels to be listed in full, especially any detail which is especially fashionable that might be copied.
Naturally, there are all manner of other incidents to be related which might interest or amuse them, like the footman who spilt red wine down someone’s very fancy waistcoat, did you see that?
There was an older lady who fell and showed a great deal more than she would have liked to, I am sure.
Oh, and the girl who did not know the steps and her partner was valiantly whispering ‘Left!’ or ‘Right!’, and she invariably went the wrong way and bumped into that supercilious fellow…
Lord James Something. And then she apologised for quite half an hour and he said, ‘It is of no consequence, madam’, at least a dozen times, although he was very cross and went quite red in the face in the effort to be polite.
It was so funny.” She paused, and then looked up at him with a shy smile.
“Remembering all this has quite cheered me up, Mr Payne. Thank you.”
“I am very glad of it. You were so looking forward to the ball that it was very upsetting to see you so downcast. Perhaps before long there will be a ball at Staineybank to look forward to?”
“I do not think so, for the duchess is still in mourning for her little boy, and besides, there is no ballroom there. There is not even a gallery! It would have to be a very small ball. But you are quite right — I should not be downhearted, since I had a splendid evening, all your wonderful drawings will remind me of the occasion and there will certainly be balls in the future — the Brinchester assemblies start again after Easter. Yes, I shall think about that and not sad things. After all, I should be inured to disappointment by now.”
“Was it such a disappointment?” he said tentatively, wondering if he was walking into a quagmire by asking, but too curious to refrain. She was his friend, after all, and he wanted to know everything about her.
“A little. One always hopes, you see, that there will be consequences. One dances and one might even have a partner who embodies all that is agreeable in a man, and so one hopes… and sometimes, after the assemblies at Norwich, there would be a caller the next morning. There he would be, sidling into the drawing room with a posy of flowers or perhaps a book of poems by the particular poet he had mentioned the night before, and there would be wine handed round and cakes, and he would stay perhaps even longer than the customary fifteen minutes. And that would be the end of it. One might pass him in the street a month or two later, and exchange bows and move on as near strangers. Even if a man seems keen enough by candlelight, in the full light of day he becomes insubstantial and fades away to nothing. Or perhaps it is I who fades away, who knows?”
“Poor Sophia!” he said softly, unthinkingly taking her hand in his. “Are you so keen to marry?”
“Of course! What other respectable occupation is there for a woman? We cannot take up a profession, as a man might. If we are forced to work, we must become dreary governesses or companions, and even if we are lucky enough not to be brought so low, we remain dependent on a father or brother forever. Richard is very good and, despite his grumbles about the expense of four unmarried sisters, he would never turn us out. But now that he is married, we are of less and less importance to him, becoming eventually merely the spinster aunts to his children, who will save him the cost of a governess. I want my own home, Mr Payne. I want to be a wife and mother and mistress of my own establishment, someone of importance in my own world, however small that world might be, and not merely a peripheral part of someone else’s life. ”
“Even peripheral parts may lead useful, productive lives,” he said. “And happy lives, too, I wager. You are not unhappy, are you?” She shook her head. “Do your sisters feel this way too?”
“They do. We are of one mind on the matter, and yet not one of us has ever received even a single offer. What is wrong with us? What is it about us that renders us repulsive to the male sex?”
That was one misapprehension which could not be allowed to stand.
He was not sure if it was wise, but he must…
he must speak to reassure her. “Nothing! There is nothing at all repulsive about any one of you, and a man must be blind not to see all your good qualities. You have been unfortunate, perhaps, Sophia, in never meeting the one man who looks beneath the surface, and sees not merely one pretty girl amongst any number of other girls almost as pretty, but the beauty within… who appreciates your goodness and quick mind and strong character. And even if a man understands what a treasure you are, he may not be in a position to do anything about it. Honour and the disparities of rank or wealth may keep him from speaking. But never doubt that you are admired… you are very much admired…”
As he spoke, his grip on her hand tightened but she made no move to break free.
Instead, eyes wide, she gazed up at him trustingly as each impassioned word brought him closer to her…
closer and closer until their faces were but a handspan apart.
He felt himself drawn inexorably towards her…
so close that he felt her warm breath on his cheek, heard her rapid breathing… so very close…
A crash from the other end of the Great Gallery made them spring guiltily apart. One of the footmen had dropped a chair, and the other was loudly berating him.
Sophia jumped to her feet, and Simon sprang up too.
“Miss Merrington…”
“I must go,” she said at the same time, rather breathlessly. “Mama will be looking for me.”
And with a whisk of her skirts she was gone, leaving Simon trembling and distraught, angry with himself for his lack of restraint, but also yearning for the kiss that so nearly was.