Chapter 26 Expectations
Lance trod very carefully to avoid Charlotte as much as he could without snubbing her too obviously.
He quickly discovered the hours she kept and was usually able to eat his breakfast without her presence, and during the day she was occupied with running the household.
She had always helped with the domestic chores, but with Hester’s health restricting her to less active duties and Mrs Merrington spending most of her time in the garden or arranging flowers, the burden fell largely onto Charlotte’s shoulders.
The evenings were a trial, however, and however hard he tried, Lance could not avoid sitting beside Charlotte sometimes at dinner, nor could he refuse to join her table for cards if solicited.
The problem was that one or other of the Merrington ladies would be sure to do the soliciting.
‘Over here!’ one of them would cry merrily.
‘Charlotte needs a partner, you see.’ And there he would be, trapped for the entire evening.
Of Charlotte herself, he had no complaint.
She never sought him out, or gave any sign that she welcomed his presence more than that of any other person.
Their conversation was of the blandest and most innocuous style, and no one overhearing one of their exchanges would for one moment imagine that there was a courtship in progress.
But still her sisters and her mother smiled and nodded at them, with knowing looks, as if they were privy to some secret that was invisible to the world.
The greatest trial came at an assembly in Brinchester.
The assembly rooms were newly refurbished, and at the first ball to be held there, the entire Staineybank household, including the duke himself, was to attend.
Lance knew perfectly well he would be expected to dance with Charlotte, and that their behaviour together would be closely watched.
However, he settled it in his mind that he would not bestow any unusual attention on her.
He would dance with the ladies strictly in order of rank, so Lily must be the first, followed by Mrs Payne and Mrs Hammond, the newest brides, and then Lady Juliet.
Then, and only then, would it be Charlotte’s turn.
This sensible plan was sunk before he had even left the house. As the party gathered in the Marble Hall to await the carriages, Lance had the misfortune to arrive early and at the same time as three of the Merrington sisters, who instantly surrounded him.
“I hope you mean to dance a great deal,” Augusta said, looking at him archly. “These public balls are full of clod-hopping farmers and the like, and you are quite the best dancer in Brinshire.”
Lance bowed to acknowledge the compliment, saying cautiously. “I am quite prepared to stand up for every dance.”
“And you will ask Charlotte for the first two, of course,” Maria said, taking a proprietorial hold of his arm with a little giggle. “As the eldest, she is entitled to be the first.”
“Nonsense,” Charlotte said, turning a little pink. “Sophia is first amongst the four of us now that she is married, and there are others with a greater claim.”
“It will be my pleasure to dance with all of you,” Lance said firmly. Then, in resigned acceptance of the inevitable, he went on, “and if Charlotte will favour me with her hand for the first two…?”
“Of course,” she said with her ready smile, bobbing him a small curtsy, but he was not at all sure that she was pleased by his willingness. Perhaps she had some other partner in mind? His hopes soared at once.
He could not escape being towed to the Merringtons’ carriage by a determined Maria, where she arranged for him to sit beside Charlotte, and he passed the journey amusing the ladies with trivial anecdotes of some of his more distinguished patrons.
There was much he could have said, especially as Denny regaled him with all the downstairs gossip when they stayed with the great families he painted, but it never paid to be indiscreet.
The sisters drank in his words, however, and thanked him prettily for entertaining them, but they could not know how dark his thoughts were beneath the frivolity.
He could see himself being drawn inexorably into offering for Charlotte, and there was nothing he wanted less.
How devilish hard it was to be a gentleman, to smile and be light-hearted and whimsical, as if he had not a care in the world, when all he wanted was to run away and hide.
The assembly rooms were reached, the rest of their party arrived and they all entered together.
All too soon, the musicians were warming up their instruments, and Lance had to smile again and lead Charlotte onto the floor and pretend that he was enjoying himself.
Fortunately, she was perfectly easy, quite her former self who had so enticed him into flirtation, and long before the first set had concluded, he found himself falling into all their former comfortable companionship.
The fleeting thought passed through his mind that marriage to Charlotte would not be so dire a prospect, perhaps.
Not his first choice, but they could rub along together rather well, he suspected.
After that, the Merrington sisters were swept away by a succession of young men, and whether they were the type to stammer or blush fiercely, or were inclined to insouciance or outright arrogance, the ladies danced with them with pleasure written all over their faces.
Even Lily, when it was found that she had no objection to dancing, was solicited to stand up several times, although Lance was never quick enough to partner her.
Thus released from any obligation towards the Merringtons, he took the opportunity to lead out some of the young ladies sitting dejectedly at the side of the room.
There was something heartening about noticing a sad face and then seeing it brighten as he approached and light up with joy when he made his request. No hopeful young lady should be out of countenance at a ball, and the price of giving happiness was so little that no one could begrudge it, surely.
At supper, he managed to stay with his last partner, a girl from a village to the south of Brinchester, who had a large, noisy family to wrap him in their merriment and, he devoutly hoped, protect him from the Merrington ladies.
After that, he felt himself free to hide away in the card room, and on the journey back to Staineybank, he was able to find a place in the duke’s carriage.
“Denny, what am I to do?” he said, as his valet readied him for bed in the small hours of the morning. “All my efforts to avoid Charlotte are for nought with such determined sisters pushing me towards her.”
“No one can force you to marry her,” Denny said, with a lift of one shoulder. “Besides, one dance at a public assembly is hardly sufficient for the girl to be ordering her wedding clothes.”
“But it was the first dance, which is always more significant, and there is clearly some expectation there.”
“You could always bolt back to the Metropolis,” Denny said.
“That would look as if I am avoiding her.”
“Which you are. I know why you stay here, my friend, but—”
“Do you?”
“Of course. Your rough sketch book, the one you never show anyone, is full of her face, and a very lovely face it is too.”
Lance sighed and shook his head. “There are no secrets from one’s valet, are there?”
“None at all, my friend. But do not agonise over this. The woman you love is entirely out of your reach, but you could have a perfectly contented marriage with an amiable woman who devotes herself to making you happy. Look at Payne, with little Sophia — a most ordinary girl, yet he is ecstatic over her. And Richard Merrington, who apparently offered for the impoverished vicar’s daughter on a whim, now thinks the sun rises and sets at her command. ”
“You think I should marry Charlotte?”
“You could do worse — a lot worse. But if you truly hate the idea, then run away. That can work, too. I speak with some authority on the subject, after all.”
Lance laughed. “Very well. Running away it is. Not tomorrow… I mean today. That would look too particular, and then it is the Sabbath, but Monday… we shall leave on Monday.”
***
This happy plan lasted for no longer than a few hours.
Lance had taken his sketchbook and charcoals to the Music Room, where he hoped the painted ceiling would give him inspiration for his own designs for the new ballroom.
Mrs Merrington was there, practising on the pianoforte, which made a pleasant background for his work.
After a while, he became aware that the music had stopped. When he looked up from his sketchbook, Mrs Merrington had turned on the music stool to watch him, her head tipped a little to one side, as if considering a problem.
“Madam?” he said politely. “Am I disturbing you? I can work elsewhere, if so, but the music is so—”
“You puzzle me exceedingly, Mr Chamberlain,” she said in her soft voice. “I cannot make you out at all, and so I am forced to address the matter directly. It is not what I would choose, since it is for Richard to take responsibility, but as he will not stir himself, it falls to me to do so.”
“I see,” he said, although having no idea what she meant.
“You like Charlotte, I think, Mr Chamberlain?”
Ah. So that was the matter to be addressed directly. This was going to be difficult.
“Who could not?” he said lightly.