Chapter Three #4
‘Oh dear, I wish someone would explain to me,’ Caroline said.
‘Nevertheless what? I wish you would both speak English. Is this about Richard’s broken heart again?
Who is she, dear? Oh!’ Her eyes widened in shock.
‘Please don’t say it’s the pianist girl, the one Sir Thomas married? Quite unsuitable!’
‘No, her mother,’ Richard said, but grinned so that his aunt would think it was a joke.
Which she did. ‘You are very naughty! Now, Richard dear, I am taking Rachel to the Belgrades’ tomorrow, not a ball, but dancing in their great hall, and they can stand up twenty couples easily in there, so it will not be just a scrape and a hop.
Vera Belgrade has asked me particularly to bring you.
I know it’s short notice, but I can’t believe you have many engagements in February. You will come, won’t you?’
‘It sounds inelegant,’ Grandmère objected. ‘What can Vera be thinking?’
‘Oh, she’s bringing out her Sophie this Season, and as she’s rather shy, Vera wants to try her out on a few people, so that she won’t be awkward.’
Richard threw back his head and laughed. ‘And I am to be one of the tried-on, am I? Trusted not to embarrass her muffin-faced daughter, because I’m so far from my own salad days no-one would suspect me of having any interest in young women? So tempting, Aunty – how could I refuse?’
Caroline looked cross. ‘Now, Richard, don’t be difficult. It’s a compliment to you, if anything. And Sophie isn’t muffin-faced. She’s quite a fetching little thing.’
‘You should go,’ Grandmère said. ‘From small chances grow great changes. Do not shut yourself off from experience, mon petit.’
‘You of all people should know how rarely a little acorn turns into a great oak,’ Richard said. ‘But to please you, I will go.’
‘You will? Oh, thank you, dear,’ Caroline cried.
‘I do so dislike going out without a male escort. And what was all that about oak trees and acorns? But, no,’ she changed her mind, ‘don’t try to explain.
It’s free trade and protectionism all over again!
Now, you do have your evening clothes with you? ’
‘Of course. I am always prepared. Though I shall have to dress myself. No valet.’
‘Bring your things here to change,’ Caroline said, ‘and Forbes shall dress you. I do want you to make a good impression.’
Richard intercepted her glance at Grandmère and suspected a conspiracy, but Grandmère’s face was a blank. When she wanted to be impenetrable, the Emperor of China was no match for her.
‘You look pretty,’ Richard said to Rachel in the carriage as it made the turn into Park Lane. ‘Is that a new dress?’
‘Thank you. It’s not new, though it has new trimming. I wouldn’t waste a new dress on a dance before the Season starts that’s not even a proper ball.’
Richard shook his head. ‘I hate to hear you sound so world-weary. I remember a little girl who would have been excited to go to any dance.’
‘But I’m not a little girl,’ Rachel said, annoyed. ‘And you can’t expect me to go on being excited about every single thing,’ she added, with emphasis. ‘This is not my first Season, you know.’
She cut herself off rather abruptly when she heard her own words.
It was not something a sensible girl drew attention to.
This would be, when it began, her third Season, and she was not yet married.
She would be twenty-one in August, and not to be married by that age would be a disgrace.
People would laugh at her behind her back.
She had been the most beautiful debutante of her Season but her lack of dowry had told against her.
And Giles wouldn’t put up money for her.
Then her mother had married that dreadful old Prince Paul and had wanted to marry her off to some Russian, probably as old and ugly as him.
And Angus – oh, that was the most seething torment of all.
She had given up everything to get engaged to Angus, had defied her mother, and then he had, he had—
‘What’s wrong?’ Richard asked. ‘You’ve gone quite red in the face.’
‘Nothing,’ she said, and concentrated on breathing calmly while her thoughts chewed on Angus.
He had said he still wanted to marry her, but that he was releasing her until she was twenty-one when he would ask her again.
Did that mean she was engaged or not engaged?
He had been jealous, which was nice – a girl liked her beau to be jealous – but it was of her dancing with Jervis Farocean, which was not good.
A girl had to be allowed to dance at balls or what was life for?
And he’d arrived late at that particular ball, so she hadn’t even had the choice of dancing with him, so he was being completely unreasonable, wasn’t he?
But there was another strand to her discontent, the real worry.
What if he didn’t ask her again in August?
What on earth would she do then? Abandoned – jilted!
– by her true love; twenty-one, practically an old woman, and still no dowry. Her life would be ruined!
‘Let down the window on your side a little, dear,’ Aunt Caroline said. ‘The cold air will bring your colour down. Not too much! Are you feeling all right? You’re not going to faint?’
‘Girls who are going to faint turn pale, not red,’ Richard pointed out. He looked at his sister with sympathy. ‘Don’t worry, lots of men will want to dance with you. I will, if no-one else asks you.’
‘Thank you, but I’m not the least afraid of having to sit out,’ Rachel said, with all the dignity she could muster. ‘Aunt Caroline says you’ve only been invited to dance with the girls just out of the schoolroom, so you’d better concentrate on them.’
Richard had to turn his head away to hide his amusement at being put down so determinedly.
There was, in fact, a reasonable mix of ages – Lady Belgrade was not so gauche as to make her purpose obvious – and as there were nearer thirty than twenty couples, the rooms were crowded.
Her daughter Sophie was not muffin-faced – far from it: a sweet little thing, pleasingly shy but not awkward, who just needed a little confidence.
Richard did his duty and danced with her, and with one or two other first-Season girls, friends of Sophie, brought along to profit by the same experience.
He had noticed that Rachel had been asked to dance straight away, so he could forget about her for the time being.
He revolved and chatted, using his charm to put the tender flowers at ease, but it occupied less than half his mind.
The rest found itself wondering how on earth he had come to be here, thinking how strange and unreal the evening seemed, what an odd figure he must cut, pondering where his life would go next.
Despite the press of bodies all around him, he felt lonely.
He had a home, work, enough money and his health – he ought to feel blessed.
But what man who ever lived had those things and didn’t want more?
Man’s reach must exceed his grasp, he thought.
But when you got to the top of the mountain, wouldn’t it be as lonely without the woman you loved as the foothills? Perhaps you should save your efforts…
The music ended, he walked his latest partner back to her corner, looked around for his next duty-partner – and found himself staring at the surprised face of Miss Rowsham.
An involuntary smile spread over his face.
It was like suddenly seeing a friend in a strange city where hitherto you had known no-one.
He went towards her with such frank pleasure that for an instant she looked startled, before she held out her hand and allowed it to be heartily shaken.
‘I didn’t think to see you here,’ he said.
‘My sister and brother-in-law know the Belgrades,’ she said cautiously.
He was about to say, but this dance has been arranged to encourage the young entry, when he realised how hurtful that would sound, and said instead, ‘I didn’t know you were in London.’
‘I didn’t know you were,’ she replied, in a tone that seemed to say Is this the best you can do?
‘Will you dance with me?’
‘Gladly,’ she said, and put her hand in his as the music began again.
They moved in silence for a few bars to get the measure of each other. She danced well; she was light in his arms, and did not, as his previous partners had, look down to see what her feet were doing.