8 #3
Suddenly Lady Goddard rang the handbell next to her wine glass and stood up.
“Ladies, we will withdraw and let Dr Moore and my grandson enjoy their brandy. Please do not take more than one glass, Andrew, you know it does not agree with you. Purkiss—perhaps if you have had enough spiced plums, you will favour us with a few quiet tunes on the pianoforte. Signorina Celeste—take my arm and sit next to me. I wish to ask about Italy. It is many years since I travelled there.”
Jane found herself accompanying Miss Purkiss as they left the dining room. “Have you been with Lady Goddard a long time?”
“Oh, yes, a good many years, Miss Darcy. My mother died when I was a child. My father had the honour of serving under the Admiral, although only as a very lowly officer, and when he died in a sea battle, indeed, died saving the Admiral’s life, I was left with no means of support, and sadly as I did not have the type of education that would have allowed me to take up a role as governess, the Admiral was kind enough to offer me a place in service to his family. So kind, so very kind.”
Jane followed her into the drawing room and stood next to the very ornate and beautiful pianoforte as Miss Purkiss hurried to sort her music.
The companion played very well, and as the first tune began, she stood, listening in pleasure and wondering how difficult it must be, not only to be continually grateful, but to have to show this gratitude every day of your life?
She glanced across at Lady Goddard and Celeste—her cousin looked uncomfortable, fidgeting with her fan and the lace on her sleeve.
Obviously the old lady’s questions were proving burdensome.
She only hoped they weren’t about Roman architecture or statues because from conversations she had had with Celeste herself, the girl was sadly uneducated about the culture of her home country.
***
Lounging at the table with brandy glass in hand, Archer and Andrew were comfortably at their ease. Archer loosened his cravat and grinned at his friend.
“You and the beguiling Celeste are becoming good friends. I have a suspicion you are smitten by the young lady’s charms.”
Andrew sipped his brandy. “I admit I find her enchanting and extremely good company. I like her complete disregard for what is considered proper social behaviour.”
“I admit I do not know any other Italian girls. Well, not of good birth, anyway! Perhaps they all behave as she does. Does she speak much of her upbringing and background?”
“I gather that her mother died at birth and she lived with her father’s family until he, too, passed away.”
Archer swirled the amber spirit round and round in his glass, enjoying the aroma. “I allow it must have taken a great deal of courage to travel to England in search of her distant relations, without even a proper chaperone.”
His friend nodded thoughtfully, then frowned. “Sometimes, when we are speaking and not being overheard, I think she is going to tell me much more, then she hesitates and the subject is dropped.”
“A secret?”
“Whatever it is, it would not stop my liking for her. Anyway enough of my affairs—what about your own? Is it to be the elegant Anne Darcy who will become the next Mrs Maitland or do you look elsewhere?”
Archer looked up sharply and shrugged. “I always swore I would never marry just for love. I will not end up like my poor father, living in poverty. You know my position. If I marry Anne then my grandmother will continue to fund my career. If I do not, then the money will cease.”
“She only behaves that way because she cares for you.”
“Yes, I am aware of that. That is why I hesitate to upset her.”
Andrew finished his brandy with a gulp and stood up.
“My friend, she has you trapped in a beautiful cage. Oh the bars might be made of velvet, but it is a cage, nonetheless. And I would not discard love so lightly. Marrying one sister when you care for another—that is a recipe for disaster. No, no, do not object to my words. I have eyes in my head! And now I suggest we join the ladies. Our futures lie in our own hands and we need to be brave enough to do the right thing.”
***
Celeste looked up eagerly when the door opened and the two gentlemen appeared. Andrew moved to sit by her side, but Archer crossed to the pianoforte and as Miss Purkiss continued to play a little folk tune, he flicked through the sheet music.
“Ah, I thought I remembered seeing this here.” He placed the piece on the music stand, and Miss Purkiss came to a discordant stop.
“But this is a waltz, Mr Maitland,” she whispered. “Lady Goddard does not care for such music. She thinks it is indecent.”
“But I am sure that just this once, she will relent. We do not have enough couples for ordinary dancing, but the joy of the waltz is that you only need one other person. Andrew was expressing a wish to dance with Signorina Celeste and I am sure you would not want them to be the centre of all attention on their own, Miss Jane? And, if my memory serves me correctly, you must show me that you are just as skilled at this pastime as your sister.”
And before she could comment, his hand was on her waist and he was pulling her close to his body.
With a little squeak of near despair, Miss Purkiss began to play the waltz music and Archer steered Jane out onto the highly polished floor and, with a wicked smile, swirled her round into the scandalous dance.