Chapter 14
They had spent time each evening after dinner practicing their dancing with the assistance of several maids and footmen for the dances which required other partners.
It had been an entertaining time for all, and Mary’s worries had been for naught, as she was as graceful and knowledgeable of the dances as Lingley had predicted.
After Durand and Cortez had prepared her for the evening, Mary took one last look in the mirror and hardly recognized herself.
She had never worn such finery in her life, and she truly looked worthy of the sobriquet of your Royal Highness.
She sparkled with all the wealth of the Ashford Earldom and finally understood her sister Elizabeth, who claimed that fine clothes were a sort of armor for young ladies. She felt… invincible this evening.
That invincibility lasted through their introduction to their hosts, who were very pleased to have received their acknowledgment and the cachet of their first accepted invitation.
Mary curtsied in greeting to the Comtesse de Girault, who gasped quietly, confusing her.
Mary had always been awkward, but she was a stickler for propriety and had practiced her curtsies exhaustively.
The woman was shocked, but not displeased, so Mary brushed off the encounter to ask Lingley about later and followed him into the ballroom.
They were immediately inundated with greetings from those who knew Lingley and a second gathering nearby them who were hoping for introductions but recognized that it was at the higher title’s discretion.
Lingley proudly introduced his bride to all, and her mind was soon drowning in all of the new names and titles.
Just when she thought that she could not stuff one more name into her exhausted brain, Lingley whisked her away from the crowd and onto the dance floor for the opening quadrille, there was some confusion as they entered the floor and somehow ended up pushed to the head of the line.
Assuming that it was in honor of their newly married status, Mary gamely called for Le Premier Set de Quadrilles and they were off.
“I could see that you were becoming overwhelmed with the number of introductions,” Lingley whispered as they spun. “Do not worry, no one would expect you to remember every name and title after one meeting. If you give me a look, I shall provide the name if needed.”
Mary gave him a scandalized look. “It is the height of discourtesy to not remember the names of new acquaintances, my lord. Of course, I remember them all.”
“All!” he nearly choked. “There were at least three dozen!”
“I have spent nearly the entirety of my life in study and memorization. My father would claim that I only know useless moralistic tracts, but that is untrue. I am widely read and have memorized most of what I felt was interesting or important, including the names, and in this case titles, of new acquaintances.”
“You have hidden this fantastical skill from me, madame,” he teased.
“It did not come naturally to me,” Mary informed him with a grin. “It has required years of practice and effort, but it is quite a habit by this point.”
He added an extra flourish as he spun her under his arm, drawing a tinkle of surprised laughter from his bride.
As she regained her equilibrium, she became aware of the twittering and whispering, taking place all about them.
There was not a single set of eyes that were not trained in their direction and, to her, each looked to find fault.
Her movements became wooden and uncomfortable, but she was saved by her husband’s awareness and the quick end of the dance.
“What is it?” he asked, through smiling lips and gritted teeth. “Did someone offend you? Was something said?”
“Much is being said!” she murmured, painfully aware of their audience. “Surely you are aware of the whispering and judgment. I am sure that I have shamed you in some way. Please, might we leave? I shall feign a faint if I must.”
“May,” His laugh was one of relief, though it raised her hackles. “Have you listened to what is being said?”
“Of course not! I have spent my entire life doing my best to avoid hearing the insults when I possibly can and ignoring what I could not. I have no wish to know the exact words with which I am being vilified.”
“I have heard two words most often, and I do believe that I have heard them more in the last half hour than in the entirety of my life before it,” he declared with earnest solemnity. “Do you not wish to know what they are?”
“Not really,” she muttered desperately, looking about for an escape.
“They are dazzling and incandescent.”
She was so surprised by his statement that she nearly stumbled into a footman who was carrying a tray of used cups from the refreshment table to the kitchen. She flushed becomingly, “Really?”
The whispers surged louder.
“It must be the color of the season!” a woman gasped,
“Look, it exactly matches the roses in her cheeks. Stunning!” another declared.
“Maman! Je dois avoir une robe en Mary Rose!” a girl exclaimed. “She is resplendent! Surely it will be all the rage! Tomorrow! First thing, or we shall never beat out the rest!”
Mary felt her blush descend towards her toes. “I cannot believe it. What could be the meaning of this?”
“You are a beautiful, wealthy, pleasant woman. Why would they not admire you? They shall soon learn that there are many positive attributes for which to admire. Now drink your champagne, you promised de Lattre de Tassigny the next.”
Mary felt an imposter by the time that she joined Lingley for the supper set.
She had been nothing but herself, but to a man, every one of her partners felt she was the most interesting, intelligent woman in the world.
She was at a loss as to why not a single acquaintance from her previous life had found her thusly, and yet here, she could do no wrong.
Surely her manner of dress was not so pivotal.
When she asked her husband, he shrugged. “There is something unfathomable in the masculine brain. What may be seen as undesirable in an unattached female, suddenly becomes desirable when it becomes known that some other man found it so.”
“Mr. Darcy once announced at an assembly that he would not give consequence to a lady who was being slighted by other men…”
“That sounds as if it was something the idiot might have said in an effort to depress someone’s expectations,” he snorted derisively. “But it is rather the usual. We are not an imaginative lot as a species.”
“Much like sheep, it seems,” Mary laughed at him. “Once one decides to go his own way, the rest follow, assuming he knows what he is about when really he just thought he saw a strange bird.”
“An exotic bird of paradise amongst the pigeons of Hertfordshire,” he agreed. “And I have never been more grateful that I caught a glimpse.”
“Spare my blushes, your highness.”
“I cannot help it,” he sighed. “Your blushes in that gown…”
They were joined by several of her other partners and their dining companions and spent the dinner hour in an interesting discussion of the pitfalls and even a few benefits of Napoleon’s war as seen by those who had been most affected by it.
Many of them had been sent to England for sanctuary and to protect the successions of the oldest families, but some had stayed and even fought.
Mary was enthralled by some of their ideas which she had never been in the way of encountering, and she spent the rest of the evening equally captivating the remainder of her dance partners.
By the final dance, a waltz, she was incandescent with her success. Lingley twirled her about the floor and basked in the luminosity of her pleasure. When the music ended, he gave her a low bow to her deep curtsy and then whisked her away, glad to have her all to himself once more.