CHAPTER XXVII
THAT evening, the presence of the Allertons had been requested at the grand fête hosted by White’s Club.
All invited were hopeful of a magnificent display of British hospitality, and this expectation was not disappointed.
The company began to assemble at nine – the gentlemen in full dress coats, naval and military uniforms, the ladies in their most formal gowns and feathers – entering the vast ballroom of Burlington House to find it decorated entirely in white muslin.
The whole of the fashionable world had been invited, and the royal party arrived last, of course: in the centre, there had been arranged a chair for the Prince Regent, to which he was conducted upon his arrival with all the usual etiquette by the Dukes of Richmond, Beaufort and Grafton.
On the right and left were six other state chairs, covered with crimson velvet, for the use of his foreign guests, amongst whom was the Tsar himself, and the Grandduchess, appearing in such a blaze of diamonds as to dazzle the eye.
Indeed, everything was arranged on such dazzling lines that Lady Allerton would have been cast into despair had not she decided, as she explained to Mrs Corcott, that ‘our ball will be a more intimate affair, of course – just good friends, enjoying some simplicity after all this grandeur’.
‘Oh, you always know just how to manage things!’ Mrs Corcott praised her. ‘How clever you are!’
Arthur tried to catch Hetty’s eye, but found her occupied.
Indeed, she seemed to be receiving more than the usual degree of notice, from Ladies Sefton and Cowper in particular – though since both of these ladies’ families were riddled with cousins and nephews they were keen to attach to fortune, this ought not to have been very mysterious to Arthur.
As it was, watching Hetty exchange pleasantries with no sign of a blush upon her face, he was struck, suddenly, by how very different she seemed lately.
The company began to dance at half past twelve o’clock, starting with waltzes by the Tsar and the Countess of Jersey, and most of the foreign princes, none of whom apparently intended to stand on much ceremony that evening. Arthur approached Hetty and extended a hand toward her.
‘Will you do me the honour?’
It was on the tip of her tongue to accept, when Hetty recollected herself. ‘Certainly – only not until after supper, I’m afraid.’
‘We have only just arrived,’ he objected.
‘Well – Nicolet asked me to promise him a waltz, and then last night, when I could not dance with Mr Craven or Mr Grafton, I offered them each the quadrille, and then Mr Hargan—’
Trixie, coming up behind them and hearing the tail end of this comment, exclaimed, ‘Oh, Arthur, you will have to be quicker than that now. Hetty has become all the rage!’
Hetty shook her head, sending a chiding look towards Trixie, but as she was whisked away to join the first set, it occurred to Arthur that Trixie might have had had a point.
For the ton had had its head turned by the particular interest of one of its foreign nobles in the young lady they had long ago dismissed.
And, attention caught, it had seen that Miss Clithero was, indeed, looking very well at the moment – of course, one could not forget she was worth a great, great deal of money.
Eighty thousand pounds, was the sum being whispered by mercenary mamas, in the ears of sons, and so in demand was her hand that she hardly had a chance to sit down, before supper was being called – providing a welcome respite for all of the Allertons, none of whom were long absent from the dance floor.
Indeed, Timothy felt that he must, indeed, have guaranteed his place in heaven by the number of disagreeable persons he had led on to the floor.
‘Should think after allowing Lady Beaufort to pinch my cheek in such a way, old St Peter will wave me on through,’ he expounded to Mr Hargan and Corky as they made their way to the supper room.
If he was expectant of being complimented on his conduct he was to be disappointed. ‘Don’t let yourself be turned into a dull dog!’ Corky advised. ‘We did not see you at Cribb’s Parlour last night, I notice.’
‘Cribb’s.’ Timothy was rather disgusted. ‘No, I dare say you did not. I do not have time for such things now. I have far too much business to attend to – the family has quite come to rely on me, you know.’
Mr Hargan made vague noises of admiration. Timothy looked expectantly at Corky. ‘You know,’ Corky began slowly, ‘these past months, my father has begun involving me closely in family business. He says I have a good head for it.’
Timothy turned to view him with a gimlet stare. ‘What a coincidence,’ he said flatly.
‘It isn’t,’ Corky objected. ‘In fact, I have long been very involved in family business.’
‘You just said you had only begun these past months!’
‘I did not wish to make you feel inadequate,’ Corky explained. ‘But, indeed, I think it commendable, Timothy! If I can be of any assistance in the matter, you let me know, old thing.’
Timothy glared, at him, so outraged that he could not, for a moment, speak. Then, recollecting himself, he let out a careless sort of laugh. ‘Oh, Corky!’ Feeling that the laugh had been quite a good one, he repeated it. ‘What a jester you are – as if I would ever need to consult you!’
‘Perhaps’, Mr Hargan suggested, ‘we ought to find our seats.’
Messrs Corcott and Allerton agreed, rather coldly, departing from one another with the simultaneous determination – if not any real idea of how to bring the thing about – to become the most quintessential man of business there could ever be.
Hargan, sighing, felt only intense relief that he was not to be seated near either of his friends.
Dinner, however, proved only a momentary respite, for the Tsar – despite the decadence of the meal – was too eager to restart the dancing to linger long, and where he went, the rest followed.
French cotillions and figures, English and Scotch country dances, waltzes, minuets or reels: none were omitted, and Hetty found herself dancing them all.
‘Did I not tell you it would be so?’ Nicolet said smugly when it was time for his dance an hour or so later. ‘Now, you might have the pick of the pack – any one of them!’
‘If only it were that easy.’ Hetty tried to keep her voice light. ‘I’m afraid I do not want just anyone, Nicolet.’
‘Is Allerton truly so unique?’ Nicolet demanded in exasperation. ‘I admire the fellow, certainly, wears a coat beautifully, but so do a lot of fellows!’
This time, Hetty did not have to force her levity: she laughed, a carefree sort of sound, and it was the observation of many, standing on the sidelines, that it became her very well – including Arthur, who was still watching.
Only Trixie, drawing alongside him at that moment, noted that the view did not seem to afford him any particular pleasure.
There was no smile upon his face but rather a strange, searching expression – as if there were some question upon his mind that could only be answered by Hetty’s countenance.
They did not return home until early the following morning.
Only a month earlier, and Hetty would have said the idea of dancing all night with gentlemen relatively unknown to her would have been impossible – and look at her now.
It was a far cry from where she had begun.
And though she would have given almost anything – certainly every penny of her fortune – for Arthur to have returned her feelings, at least now …
now she knew he did not and would not, and would never do so.
She smiled up at him. The flame of the candle reflected in her eyes. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Sleep well,’ he said, and she did, better than she had in days, while – down the hall, ten doors down – Arthur was wide awake.
A floor up from him, so too was Trixie; though the sun was beaming in, she was sitting on her window seat, and not in her bed. One did not like to overstate one’s own importance, of course, but it seemed to her very clear that the happiness of her entire family now rested solely in her hands.