Chapter 11
The dress arrived from the modiste just in time and not a moment too soon.
As Beatrice untied the ribbons around the box, she found that she was actually excited.
Lady Fowler’s opening season ball would be the most well-attended fete she had been to in many years.
She would see people she had not seen in years.
She would truly be back in London society.
And while part of her was still anxious about what that would mean in terms of finding a husband, she was also hopeful that it would help distract her from the thoughts of Mr. Rupert Grenville, which she had not been able to rid herself of in the week leading up to the ball.
Beatrice lifted the lid off of the box and gazed down at the dress.
Her heart in her throat, she carefully lifted it out of the box.
The material was light and airy, almost weightless, made up of a gossamer silk that was white as snow.
A lace overlay was studded with pearls and embroidery, creating an image that seemed to shimmer
Beatrice’s breath caught. It was the most beautiful gown she had ever seen in her life. She could hardly believe that that very evening, she would get to wear it.
There was a knock on the door of her bedchamber, then Mrs. Hughes entered. When she saw the dress Beatrice was holding, she clapped a hand to her mouth.
“My goodness,” she murmured, lowering her hand as she stepped into the room. “That is from the modiste?”
“Is it not the most beautiful gown you have ever seen?” Beatrice gushed, and Mrs. Hughes nodded. They both stared at the dress for a long moment, admiring it, and then Mrs. Hughes turned to look at her, her eyes bright.
“You are going to look lovely tonight, Bea,” she murmured. “You shall have to write and tell me all about how your sSeason goes, how many gentlemen fall in love with you at the very sight of you?”
Beatrice’s brow knit together. “Write to you? What do you mean, Mrs. Hughes? Are you not going to be here with me this Season?”
Mrs. Hughes sighed and sat down next to her on the small sofa.
“I was thinking of going down to Sussex in a few days,” she said, “to visit my daughter. I have written her a letter asking if I may come to stay, and I hope to hear from her soon. I am eager to see her after so many years away, and of course, my grandchildren. And now that you are safely back…” Her eyes narrowed.
“And, as far as I can tell, not going to run off again…”
“No,” Beatrice said, setting the dress down. “I am not going to run away again.”
Mrs. Hughes took her hands and looked deeply into her eyes.
“I know you were cross with me for being angry that you ran off,” she said.
“But I truly was worried, Bea. You are not a girl anymore. You are a young lady with a reputation to preserve. And you must not just think of your own desires anymore. Your actions and choices will reflect not just on you, but on your family. Your brother. Your friends. You must be careful, and brave. I know that you would not choose to marry the man your brother has picked for you, but the life of a gentlewoman is not her own. She has a duty to her family.”
“I know,” Beatrice said gently. And she did know.
Her brush with death had taught her that she could not just do as she pleased.
There were consequences to her actions. She squeezed Mrs. Hughes’ hands.
“And I appreciate all that you have taught me. I know that I would not be half the lady that I am today without your tutelage.”
Mrs. Hughes brushed away a tear. “I do not know about that,” she said humbly.
“But I do know that I have watched you grow up, and that I am very proud of the young woman you have become. I know that you will grow into an even finer woman with every passing year.” She hesitated.
“Your mother would be proud. Both your parents would.”
Beatrice felt tears fill her eyes, and she pulled Mrs. Hughes into a long hug. The years they had spent in France had been some of the happiest of her life, following a very dark period, but they were over now, and it was time to embrace this next adventure.
Later that afternoon, Vivienne and her brother Nathaniel arrived for a visit, and Theodore and Beatrice met them in the drawing room downstairs. After accompanying Beatrice to London, Vivienne had gone to stay at her brother’s townhouse where he already was staying.
It had been many years since Beatrice had seen Nathaniel, her best friend’s twin brother, and she could scarcely believe her eyes as he came through the doorway. He had grown so tall and his beard had filled in. When she had last seen him, he had been a boy, but now he was a man.
However, when he saw her, the way he darted across the room and pulled her into a fierce hug, then swung her around the room, told her he was the same boy she had known for all those years.
“Beatrice!” He cried. “I can hardly believe that you are home! You were gone for so many years, I was afraid that you would forget all about us and stay in France forever.”
“Never,” Beatrice said, grinning at him as he set her back down on the carpet. “I missed you very dearly. All of you.”
“And we missed you,” Nathaniel assured her. “Are you enjoying being back in London? Are you excited to be reintroduced to Society tonight at Lady Fowler’s ball?”
“I am…” Beatrice began, but before she could finish, Vivienne interrupted.
“How could she not be? It is not as if she will embarrass herself the way that Miss Havisham did last year at the opening society ball.”
“Or the way you did when you accidentally asked Lord Montcliff to dance?” Theodore said.
Vivienne, Theodore, and Nathaniel all burst out laughing. Beatrice was actually flummoxed as she watched the three of them nearly fall out of their seats with mirth. Vivienne was actually clutching her side in hysteria.
“Good heavens,” Beatrice said faintly. “Whatever happened when you asked Lord Montcliff to dance?”
Wiping tears from her eyes, Vivienne shook her head. “You had to be there,” she said.
“But if you had…” Theodore chuckled again. “It was one of the most amusing incidents I have ever witnessed in my life.”
“I thought she would never live it down,” Nathaniel said. “Perhaps that is why she is still unmarried,” he added wickedly.
Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Please. You know why I am still unmarried, brother.” There was a pause, during which Beatrice saw Theodore look sideways at Vivienne, his cheeks reddening.
She frowned. What on earth was that about?
Then Vivienne continued, “I am waiting for the perfect man. One who sweeps me off my feet. I am not about to settle for anything less.”
There was an awkward pause, then Vivienne cleared her throat. “I am sorry, Bea…” she began, but Beatrice brushed it away.
“Do not worry,” she said. “I know that a love match is not in the cards for most ladies and that marriage is an essential duty of a woman in my position.”
Still, she avoided looking at her brother. She did not want him to see the disappointment in her eyes.
As she settled back into her seat and a servant arrived with a tray of tea, Beatrice could not help but notice that the three of them were sharing more and more inside jokes.
Although she had known that going away for so long would create some distance between her and her friends, she had not realized just how alienating it would be until she was sitting there, listening to them recollect stories from the past two years of which she had no idea.
Vivienne had written her letters, of course, keeping her apprised of the happenings around London. But life had gone on without her, and she could not have been kept informed about everything.
From now on, I must throw myself into everything, she told herself, as she poured herself a cup of tea. I will immerse myself in my friends’ lives and miss out on nothing.
Upstairs, the girls got ready together for the ball. Vivienne was suitably impressed by Beatrice’s gown and gushed over it for several minutes.
“You are up to date on the London fashions now,” she said, as Beatrice twirled around her bedchamber in it. “And you will be the talk of the town!”
“It seems that the only person I need to impress is Lord Pembroke,” Beatrice said gloomily, as she sat down at the dressing table to let her maid fix her hair. “That is who my brother has picked out for me.” Her eyes slid to Vivienne’s in the mirror. “Do you know much about him?”
Vivienne hesitated. “Not much, in truth,” she said. “I think he has only declared his intention to marry in the last year. But I do know that he is wealthy, respectable, and gracious. I have never heard anyone say a bad word about him.”
Beatrice swallowed and tried to nod. This was all good news. And yet…
And yet she felt as if she were drowning.
“But can you tell me anything of his character?” she probed.
Vivienne shook her head. “I cannot. But I am sure that he is amiable. I trust your brother. Theodore is a man of sense and compassion. He would not pick out a man who was boring or cruel.”
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed slightly. She saw the way her friend’s cheeks pinked when she said Theodore.
Was it possible that there was something between them? If so, then they would need all the encouragement they could get. Vivienne wanted to be swept off her feet, and Theodore, Beatrice knew, was very shy, especially with women.
Maybe if I get him to court Vivienne and they fall in love, he will be more inclined to let me pick out my own match, she thought, the idea taking shape in her mind before she could push it away.
She sat up a little straighter and smiled at her friend. Yes, this was an idea. A way to ensure the happiness of her best friend, her brother’s happiness, and her own, all with one strategy.
Finally, the girls were ready to go, and they made their way downstairs. Vivienne was in a dark red satin gown that fell in a long train behind her. At her throat was a ruby necklace, while in her hair she wore dark feathers.
It was no surprise at all to Beatrice that when they descended the stairs, Theodore could not keep his eyes off Vivienne.
It begins, Beatrice thought, a small hiccup of excitement going through her.
Lady Fowler’s townhouse was a tall, stately house of white marble. Torches were lit outside of the house, and the walkway was crowded with couples descending from carriages and making their way inside.
Everyone was dressed marvelously in the latest fashions, and Beatrice could not stop looking all around her. She recognized some faces, but many were unfamiliar to her. It felt less like she was back in London and more like she was in another country entirely.
But of course, people recognized her.
She was the new arrival, back from years abroad, and as she walked down the path toward the front of the house, whispers followed her.
“She will be the prize of the Season…”
“...was gone too long, and is too old.
“And look how tan she has become!”
“Probably a spy for Napoleon…”
The last one was more amusing than anything, and Beatrice actually had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling. A spy for Napoleon, indeed!
Still, it hurt to think that people had unkind things to say about her. She had gone to France to try and mend her broken heart after the death of her parents. She might not be eighteen anymore, but she was hardly old, or a spinster.
Squaring her shoulders, she held her head high as she walked down the path, leaning on Theodore’s arm, who was escorting her. She would ignore the gossip and just try to enjoy herself.
Inside, the ball was already underway. Couples were lined up across from each other on the large, polished parquet dance floor.
Above them, chandeliers glittered, while footmen moved through the crowd holding trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
The room was large, with giant French windows lining one side that led to a terrace, and a domed ceiling above them that was painted with a beautiful fresco of the sky.
“There is someone I would like you to meet,” Theodore said, steering Beatrice toward a gentleman who was standing near the edge of the crowd, watching them approach with a guarded expression.
They stopped in front of him and Theodore looked proudly down at Beatrice.
“Beatrice, this is Lord Charles Pembroke. Lord Pembroke, this is my sister, Miss Beatrice Ashford.”
Lord Pembroke was not unattractive. He was not as young as Beatrice had been hoping, but could not be more than five-and-thirty, with dark blonde hair, a kindly although rather plain face, and gray eyes.
His chin was a little weak, but he was impeccably dressed, and he had a pleasant smile with straight teeth.
“Miss Ashford,” he murmured, taking her hand. He did not kiss it, she noticed. “It is an honor to meet you. I was hoping I might have the pleasure of taking you to the dance floor?”
“But of course,” Beatrice said, her throat tight.
She did not dare look at her brother. Instead, she let Lord Pembroke lead her to the dance floor.
The dance had already begun, but they were able to join the end of it.
All around them, she felt eyes on her, but she tried to ignore them.
She had to be polite now and make a good impression, especially with the whole ton gossiping about her.
“Are you interested at all in farming, Miss Ashford?” Lord Pembroke asked, as their hands met in the middle.
“We… I cannot say I know much about it,” Beatrice offered after a moment. Was this really his opening line?
“Well then, you must learn!” the man said, smiling at her. “Farming is a great passion of mine.”
“Oh…”
“And is such an important part of our economy here in England.”
Lord Pembroke continued to speak about farming, but Beatrice soon lost the thread of the conversation. She supposed the man was kind, and he kept smiling at her, but it was hard to follow what he was saying. Something about cows?
They stopped near the end of the line, where they waited for their turn to join again. While they did, Beatrice wondered if she might be able to say something to leave early, that she was thirsty, perhaps. Maybe she could end the dance early if she asked him to fetch her a lemonade.
She opened her mouth to speak, but never got the chance. Because before she could, she heard a familiar voice right behind her.
“Would you mind if I cut in?”
Heart in her throat, she turned around to see Mr. Rupert Grenville standing right in front of her, a coy, mischievous smile on his lips.