The next few days James floated
on a cloud of euphoria. In his spare time he read the novel, thinking all the
while: her hands were holding this book, stroking the binding, her fingers were
leafing through the pages, her eyes were taking in these very words. Truth be
told, much of the first three chapters barely registered; his mind would drift
off into tangents as the scent of rose petals or lavender would suddenly waft
up from the creamy pages. Saturday he had hopes of seeing Emily upon the road
somewhere, but he was held up solving an issue between two of his tenant
farmers. In the evening he took himself in hand. As he dressed carefully for
dinner he reminded himself of the need to be circumspect in front of his cousins,
resultantly he was never more aloof and reticent in the company of the
Chestertons. He noticed Emily's confused glance thrown in his direction once or
twice, and he tried to smile encouragement back, but knew not how well he had
succeeded. He refused to do anything that would bring suspicion upon her head.
He knew his cousins well enough to realise that they would misconstrue the type
of friendship he and Emily shared.
Sunday they exchanged their
usual greeting in church, and James noted a hint of concern in Emily's eyes.
Once out on the porch he discovered that Lord Ralph had stayed behind to issue
an invitation to Percy and himself for cards the following evening.
"Don't fob me off Warrington,"
he said as James politely declined. "We won't play for high stakes."
"Cousin James is game as a peg
to join you!" cut in Percy. "He forgets that Sir Edward can spare him. Olivia
will keep the old gentleman company for us, Cousin, won't you, my pet?" Percy
turned to Olivia to include her in his plea.
"It would be my pleasure," said
Olivia with alacrity. "Cousin James it's time you had a bit of bobbery. You are
much too abstemious!" Though she was talking to James she managed to give all
her attention to Lord Ralph.
James was left with no option
but to accept. As they walked towards their carriages, Olivia somehow managed
to fall back with Lord Ralph. She gave him a saucy smile and whispered, "My
cousin is such a slow-top at times, but I am sure that you are always up to the
rig!" Lord Ralph laughed and looked at her even more appreciatively.
By Monday afternoon James'
euphoric state had completely disappeared, and instead he found himself
assailed with doubts. Was he acting honourably by Miss Emily? Was he double
dealing Lord Ralph? Were his motives as pure as he pretended? He knew that on
no account did he want her to marry the man, but he also knew that he had no
right to interfere. He had no right to feel all up in a cloud after spending
time alone with her. He had no right to spend time alone with her. He had no
right to give her flowers. But, he told himself, there is nothing wrong with
friendship. He assured himself of the complete innocence of their relationship.
She deserved to find friendship where she chose, and if his feelings for her
were perhaps a little stronger than they should be, it was his duty to keep
them at bay. One day even her friendship would be lost to him; he meant to keep
it for as long as he could, no matter the consequences to himself. He tied his
cravat carelessly. He was not looking forward to an evening in Lord Ralph's
company, but there was no avoiding it.
James took no delight in
gambling, but he could hold his own at the card table. He had a quick mind and
always kept a clear head. Bertie, on the other hand, was freely tossing back
his brandy and well on his way to getting fuddled, with Lord Ralph close
behind. As for Percy, he had all the appearance of being a trifle overtaken,
but James could swear he had been limiting his drinking and decided he was
throwing dust in their eyes. He was losing more games than he ought, too, and
James intended to keep an eye on him. He wouldn't put it past him to raise the
stakes and then have a high run of luck. Percy played more than one game at a
time.
"Your sister's a regular out ‘n
outer, Farquar," said Percy jovially.
Lord Ralph bridled. "Remember,
that's a lady you're talking about, Braithwaite," he slurred. "Damn fine lady!"
Bertie just laughed.
"She's a pretty little coquette!
I've a fancy to try my luck with her," smirked Percy.
Lord Ralph looked at him with
disdain. "Soph . . . Miss Farquar wouldn't give you the time of day. She's
besotted with me!"
"M'sister you're speaking of,
you Nodcocks!" said Bertie.
"She has nothing but my respect
and undying devotion," said Percy. "I'll wager you, Farquar, that she don't
care a straw for Lord Ralph."
"You may as well give me your
purse right now," said Bertie. "She's been making sheep's-eyes at him for
years!"
Lord Ralph gave Percy a gloating look.
"I'll win her from him then,"
said Percy boldly.
"I'll wager you can't," said
Lord Ralph confidently.
"You're on!" Percy sat back and
finished dealing the cards, a look of satisfaction on his face.
"Your sister's a tidy piece
too," Bertie said to Percy. "She's up to my standards!"
"Is she?" asked Percy. "She was
saying much the same thing to me about you."
"Can't say as I blame her," said
Bertie, puffing out his chest.
Lord Ralph snorted. "She has
been making up to me ever since she arrived. If you think she'd look at you,
you're wide of the mark!"
"She's quite taken with your
lordship too," said Percy. "But I'll put my money on Farquar!"
"Bertie!" Lord Ralph laughed.
"Over me? Have you windmills in your attic?"
"Stands to reason," said Percy.
"You're engaged. I know my sister. She's a high stickler; won't carry on
flirtations with a man who's spoken for. Won't queer the pitch for a friend,
and she's taken quite a liking to Miss Sidford."
"What's Emily got to do with
it?" Lord Ralph expostulated.
James' head shot up. "I'd say
she has quite a lot to do with it. You are engaged to her. She deserves your
respect."
"Don't get all up in the boughs!
If I didn't know better I'd think you wanted her yourself, but I know you are
hanging after the parson's daughter."
"I am not hanging after Miss Chesterton.
I am in no position to hang after anyone," said James flatly.
"Won't fadge, Warrington," said
Bertie. "She's got you in her pocket, and everybody knows it!"
Percy gave James a look. "I
don't think my cousin wants the lady to be a topic of gossip," he said. "We are
talking about flirtations, his intentions are in a more serious vein."
"I have no intentions," said
James.
"Take a damper, Warrington,"
cried Bertie. "Live a little! I know some rare beauties I could match you with.
They don't care about intentions so you'd be all set" The other two laughed at
this, and James looked back at his hand.
He came away from the table that
night with more winnings than he could rightly feel good about, but he did not
regret it for a moment. Lord Ralph's dismissal of Emily's right to
consideration was outside of enough. It was a long time since he had let his
anger get the better of him like that, and he had almost scotched it. Beating
them at cards had been his only outlet for his anger without completely giving
himself away. He did not like the rumour about himself and Miss Chesterton, but
he had denied it, and if no one believed him that was up to them. At least it
prevented other speculation.
James threw the money on his
nightstand with distaste. He would use it to buy books for Miss Chesterton's
school. The irony of Lord Ralph, Farquar, and Percy being benefactors of the
school was somewhat amusing.
The next day, as he rode along
the lane that followed the southwest border of Barstow's park, James' doubts
began to return. Was he wrong in furthering his friendship with Emily? As he
was taking pains not to give her excess notice in public, did that make these
private meetings secretive? Clandestine? Was her need of friendship as strong
as he believed, or was he merely being selfish? No. He had noticed the change
in her, how she had opened up and blossomed. She enjoyed learning new things;
she valued having her opinions listened to. She needed to know there was more
to life than the empty shell of her destined future; a shell she had never
imagined she could fill for herself. But still he had concerns. She was
betrothed to Lord Ralph; it was an inescapable fact. He did not deserve her,
but if it wasn't him, it would be someone else with the money and prestige her
parents desired. Was he really doing her a service by offering a friendship
that could never prosper?
He walked the horse slowly,
hesitantly. Sophocles' hooves barely sounded on the grassy lane. He rounded a
curve and before him, sitting on the gate in the midday sun, was Emily, her
bonnet hanging from the gatepost, her hair in fine braids wound about her head,
her sea-green gown billowing in the light breeze. She was gazing at the hills,
oblivious to his presence, one hand held up to shade her eyes from the low
winter sun. All his previous thoughts dissipated. There was only one focus, one
need, one moment in time. She was here and everything else was like an
obscuring mist that vanished with her presence. He rode closer, the bridle
chinked, she turned her head. The smile she gave him sent warmth through his
body, returning him to that euphoric state where everything was possible and
nothing else mattered.
"Don't twist about so, Emily,"
cried her mother. "I want to see exactly how the fabric is falling. Oh! I do
wish you had allowed Mme Fanchot to sew your gown! I want you to look perfect
for the assembly."
"Mother, you have pinned the
bodice much too tightly. Please leave it to Aunt Letty. She truly knows what
she is about," answered Emily in exasperation. "I do not understand what makes
this assembly so important! I already have a gown that I had intended to wear."
"You have worn that gown twice
in the last six months! I am certain that Miss Rutherford and Sophie will both
be wearing new gowns. I will not have you looking like a dowd!"
Emily sighed. It was true; the
two girls could talk of nothing but their new gowns. She looked down at the
apricot silk she was draped in. Her mother had wanted primrose yellow and this
had been her compromise. How she wished Lady Prescott were here to support her
in her desires for a higher neckline and looser bodice. She felt deprived of
breath. After her mother departed the room, Letty came to her rescue and
loosened the pins.
"I think I have some pale rose
velvet ribbon in my workbox, and a length of Spanish lace a soft ivory colour
we could use to trim the bodice and raise the neckline a bit," she said
comfortingly. "In that way we can please both your mother and yourself."
"It is a deal more fancy than
what I would like to wear," said Emily, shaking her head.
"You will look very pretty,"
said her aunt.
"Well, if we must, we must,"
said Emily in resignation, ignoring her aunt's comment. She changed back into
her housedress and sat to thread a needle. She took up the hem of the gown
while her aunt worked on the fine detailing of the bodice. "Do you suppose it
will snow before Friday?"
"The sky is very white and low.
It is a sure sign."
"I wish for snow to block the
roads and keep us all home that night!"
"Emily! When I was your age I
used to long for a ball. What is it, my dear?"
"It is just all so tedious,
Auntie!" she said. " I will dance two with Lord Ralph, and two with Bertram
Farquar, and then Lord Ralph will take me down to supper. Sophie will be vexing
and Olivia will play her tricks on me. I am afraid I will be obliged to dance
with Mr. Braithwaite as well, which I can't like at all. I would much rather
stay here with you and sit by the fire and read!"
"Do you really dislike it so very
much, dear?" asked Letty.
"No Auntie! Excuse my crochets.
I do like dancing, and I enjoy the music. It is mainly this dress that has made
me peevish. Mama is putting me in competition with Sophie and Olivia. It is not
a competition I want to take part in. They are welcome to try to outdo one
another with elaborate styles but it is not for me. I have always avoided these
frills and flounces."
"Don't upset yourself. We will
not add the flounces to the skirt and it will look very elegant. I shall contrive
a trim with the velvet ribbon instead."
"Mother will be cross," sighed
Emily. "We should just do it her way."
Letty smiled comfortingly. "When
your mother sees how beautiful you look in it she will understand that you have
no need of such fussy styling. Leave it all to me." She patted Emily's hand and
they resumed sewing. Letty told Emily of bygone assemblies, when she danced in
much more elaborate costumes, and of the one person in particular who had made
those occasions so special. They were bittersweet memories, but she focused on
the happy times of courtship, not the harrowing months that followed her young
captain's posting to the peninsula, and the final letter that destroyed all her
hopes and dreams.
Letty looked out the window at
the pearly sky. "High time you went for your walk, young lady. It does you so
much good, even in this weather; I don't want you to miss it. Make haste for I
fear it is going to snow before the night is upon us."
Emily thanked her aunt and
rushed from the room. As Letty took up her needle again her mind went back in
time. She could almost hear the tinkle of the piano, and his carefree tenor as
he accompanied her in a ballad. She sighed; if only Emily could know a love
like that. But she doubted that even time could bring that kind of closeness to
her and Lord Ralph. Still, this dress could possibly make him look twice at his
betrothed and get his mind off those two flashy bits, then he just might notice
her other fine qualities and begin to appreciate her a bit more. And if he
showed her more appreciation, maybe Emily would warm to him. If it was up to
Letty, she would not have championed the match, but it was made so very long
ago. If only he had grown up with a mind and a soul to match his handsome face.
She thought of all the young gentlemen in the vicinity, and her mind caught on
only one who she felt would do for her Emily. But what was the sense of vain
wishes? She would be better occupied in dreaming of the past and setting her
stitches as neatly as possible.
Emily turned her collar up and
stuffed her hands deep into her fur muff. The sky was low and heavy with snow.
Her breath billowed before her. The leafless trees held their branches high;
wavering in the indistinct light, they almost melted into the very air. She
hoped she had not missed him. It seemed the only way they could talk openly as
friends was in the outdoors, away from all the social games. Now, even at the
parsonage their conversation was constrained. She had at first been concerned
that she had in some way offended him, but when he had arrived on Tuesday last,
as she sat waiting on the gate, his greeting did much to reassure her. She
smiled, remembering how his eyes warmed when she had asked him of his sister,
Mary. He had talked at length about her, until Emily felt that she knew her
too. She envisioned a girl with James Warrington's eyes, sparkling with hidden
laughter, running through the meadows, paddling in the streams, and climbing in
the apple trees in her stockinged feet. Carefree and happy and full of life.
From Mary they had gone on to
talk of the rest of his family; his other sister Anne who was casting for a
lord, his brother George, a captain of the 9th Hussars, who had a lovely little
estate in Bedfordshire, and his brother Randolph who was to be the next Sir
Warrington, and preferred life in the city to his estate. Of his parents he
spoke with reverence and love, and Emily wished her own could inspire such
feelings in her. But they were cold and remote; the only relationship she had
that was close to what he described was that with her aunt Letty. He apologised
for rambling on and boring her about his family, but she assured him that, as
an only child, she enjoyed hearing about what she had missed in growing up
alone. They had talked for far too long that day and she had made her way home
through the shadowy dusk. Today the visit would have to be brief.
When Emily arrived at the gate,
the first thing she saw was Sophocles' big head reaching over it. She went to
him and rubbed his nose, whispering endearments. His breath billowed out in
warm gusts. James was nowhere to be seen.
"Are you having a nice visit
with my friend?"
Emily turned and saw James
standing on the other side of the fence, his hands behind his back. "Which one
of us are you talking to?" she asked. He was smiling warmly at her, causing her
to break into an irrepressible smile.
"Sophocles. But I don't need to
ask. I can see by his expression that he was well entertained."
"Indeed," she said. "We both
were."
James pulled his hands from
behind his back and held out a small bunch of witch hazel. "While I was waiting
I found some more," he said as he passed them to her.
Emily took the branches and
gazed softly at the flowers. "I wonder where you are finding them?" she mused.
"I hope you have not been waiting long."
"Not at all. The flowers are
just down the lane and I took the chance to run and cut them. I knew Sophocles
would keep you until I returned."
"Thank you."
"I was afraid you would not
come. It is so cold, and about to snow."
"I would have been sooner but I
was fitting my new gown." She made a little face. "Luckily Aunt Letty sent me
out to get some air."
James laughed. "Mary makes just
such a face when she has been obliged to do something she does not want to do,
like stand still while pins are poked into her."
"That is usually the result of
not standing still, sir!" laughed Emily, then she quieted and hesitated a bit
before she continued. "Will you be attending the assembly?"
James looked at her face. He had
not intended to go, but she appeared so shyly wistful that he could not say no.
"I will try to manage it," he said softly. Her pleased smile in response made
him glad of his answer, and though he longed to ask her to save him a dance he
knew it was something that he should not do. Once he was there, and had danced
with Ruth Chesterton, Olivia, the Lampton sisters, and even Sophie Farquar,
then he would ask to take her to the floor in front of everybody, where Lord
Ralph could smile on the request as a politeness she was due, nothing more. The
silence between them lengthened, but was not uncomfortable. Emily stroked
Sophocles' neck and looked at the sky.
"Do you think it will snow very
much?"
"Maybe not this first snowfall,
but old Mr. Turnbull says that he expects a heavy snow after the weekend. Old
farmers have a feel for the weather; so far his predictions have been accurate.
I will not expect to see you next week. I would not have you come out in a
heavy snow."
"Then it is good that we shall
see each other at the assembly, though it will not be the same."
No, it will not be the same,
thought James. We will have to be formal and stiff with each other, and I shall
have to make it through a dance with you without giving myself away. James
glanced up at the sky; it seemed close to breaking apart into tiny pieces, near
ready to fall upon them. "You must go back to your house now. It is about to
snow."
"And you must leave and get
Sophocles back to his stable." Emily rubbed the big horse's nose again.
James looked at her hand and
longed to take it in his as he said goodbye, but he only smiled, turned his
horse and mounted. "Take care," he said and rode from her view.
Emily stood by the gate a moment
and then returned her hands to her muff, tucking the branches of witch hazel in
with them. She quickly walked back along the path. Suddenly her feet had begun
to feel the cold and she stamped them as she hurried along. The sky was close
over her head, the air around her had whitened, and before she reached the
house, big feathery flakes of snow began drifting down around her.
The full moon glistened upon the
crisp white fields causing a brightness that rivalled daytime. Carriages
rumbled along snowy country lanes and roads, entering Greater Malvern's cobbled
streets to stop before the grandly lit assembly rooms. Rugs were thrown back
and gowns shaken out as ladies young and old descended from the carriages
attended by their gentlemen. While the grooms led away horses, the partygoers
entered the foyer and divested themselves of capes and muffs, topcoats, gloves
and beavers. The sound of conversation and light music filled the air. The
assembly was well attended and would be referred to the next morning, in the
breakfast parlours of all the finest homes, as a terrible squeeze.
Mrs. Sidford had planned to
arrive fashionably late and have Emily make a grand entrance, but she found
that the Farquars and the parties from both Wilverton and Wortham were crushed
together with her own in the little anteroom leading to the open double doors
of the ballroom. Breathless greetings were exchanged as everyone stood in the
cold air that blew through continually as the main door was constantly opened
to new-comers. They entered the room as one large group and made their way
through the crowds until they found a space to accommodate them at the side of
the dance floor. Lady Prescott, Mrs. Sidford, and Mrs. Farquar seated
themselves on the dainty chairs provided and busily arranged their skirts and
patted their heads, ensuring that their elaborate head-dresses were in place.
Only then were they at leisure to study the gowns of the young ladies before
them - to praise, compare and criticise. It was soon established between them
that a lovelier set of girls was not to be found in all the room.
Sophie was a froth of diaphanous
layers of pink gauze over a glistening satin under-dress of the same colour.
Diamonds glittered at her throat and wrists and silk rosebuds were sprinkled
through her golden curls. Olivia was dressed in white, her bodice beaded in
pearls and embroidered with tiny blue flowers. Her long white gloves reached
almost to her high puff sleeves. Her pale hair fell in perfect ringlets from an
arrangement of looping threads of pearls that graced the top of her dainty
head. Emily, her elegant apricot gown rivalling the styling of these modiste
creations, wore a simple peridot necklet, her dark hair circling her head in
twisted braids and coils. Tiny butterflies of velvet ribbon nestled in the
strands. Maude Sidford and Mrs. Farquar, though reticent to come to the point
of saying it in so many words, were certain that their own daughter was by far
the prettiest, while Lady Prescott teased them with praise of Olivia's
exquisite beauty, at the same time quietly thinking to herself that she had
never seen Emily in such good looks.
Lord Ralph was in a state of
dizzy confusion that did not leave him all evening. He had no idea quite what
to think, and led Emily out for the first dance in a flush of admiration that
he had never before experienced.
"What on earth have you done
with yourself tonight?" he asked. "You are looking exceedingly pretty. I am
pleased to see that you have stopped sewing your own gowns. You quite put the
other girls in the shade."
"Thank you," said Emily, unused
to such an excess of flattery from her betrothed.
Further down the set, James
Warrington, dancing with Ruth Chesterton, was having a difficult time keeping
his eyes from straying in Emily's direction. From the moment she had walked
through the front doors he had barely been able to keep his mind on anything
else, and luckily the crush of the crowds had made his inattentiveness
unnoticeable to his companions.
"She is very pretty tonight,
isn't she?" said Ruth as the movements of the dance brought them together.
James blushed and stammered something unintelligible, inwardly admonishing
himself to not be such a fool.
The next dance, Lord Ralph was
torn between asking Sophie and Miss Rutherford, but the choice was taken from
him when Bertie walked off with the Dresden beauty.
Sophie gazed up at him with her
brilliant blue eyes. "My lord, I have been waiting for you this age!" She
laughed so delightfully that he wondered how he could even think to look at
another girl. He felt a similar feeling when he led Olivia to the floor for the
third dance. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms. The heady
feeling of being desired by these lovely creatures - and he couldn't doubt for
a minute that their feelings for him either matched or surpassed his own for
them - gave the evening a magical quality. He felt like Prince Charming. His
generosity at bestowing his favours on other, lesser young ladies for
intervening dances, amazed even him.
Bertie was labouring under
similar, though not quite so grandiose, musings. Olivia Rutherford was a pretty
little piece, quite dazzling enough to steal one's heart, but Miss Emily was
also alluring in her aloof serenity. As he danced with her, he contemplated
winning her heart away from Lord Ralph. He had a feeling his friend only owned
a very small piece of it. As for Miss Rutherford, Bertie was positive that the
look in her eyes when she laughed up at him was brighter than any she graced
Lord Ralph with.
Percival Braithwaite was
enjoying himself immensely. He had led that minx Sophie Farquar out for the
first dance and enjoyed a delightful flirtation. When he won her hand again a
little later in the evening, he subtly led her out upon the terrace.
"It gets so dashed hot in a
crowded ballroom," he said.
"Lord yes!" cried Sophie in
delight as she leant on the balustrade. "You read my mind sir!"
"I have an amazing ability as a
mind reader," he said, leaning close in towards her. "Especially your mind."
Her heart beat with excitement.
He wasn't as handsome as Lord Ralph, but he looked at one so, and he understood
her so very well. "Pray tell, what am I thinking right now?"
"That the moon is full, and this
night was made for love," he said, brushing his lips upon her hair.
She shivered, but not from the
cold. She turned to face him boldly. "And now?" she said.
He placed his hand gently on her
cheek. Her lips parted. "Now you want exactly what I want," he whispered. It
was too easy, but that wasn't going to stop Percy. He bent in and just as his
lips were about to brush hers, she turned her head and giggled softly.
"Mr. Braithwaite! You are so
bad! An impressionable girl needs protection from a man with such powers as
yours."
"You are wrong, goddess," he
sighed. "I need to be protected from falling for your bewitching charms. I am
completely yours to do with as you will."
Sophie reached out and ran a
finger over the high arch of his cheekbone, "I'm afraid, good sir, that we will
have to return to the dance floor," she cast him a glance from beneath lowered
lids. "To stay out here any longer would not be safe."
Percy grabbed hold of her hand
and kissed it and then with practised tenderness pulled her to him and
whispered in her ear, "Would than we could stay out here forever!"
As he led her back to the dance
floor, Sophie's colour was high and her heart was fluttering about her throat.
Truly, if they had stayed out a moment longer, she couldn't have answered for
herself.
Percy was pleased with the whole
encounter, and quite content to have brought her to such a state. He knew he
could now have been enjoying her deep kisses in the shadows, but he preferred
it this way: to tease her and tantalise her until she was searching him out,
filled with unleashed desire. He looked about the room, noting with pleasure
the scowl on Lord Ralph's face, and sauntered over to ask Miss Sidford for a
dance.
"I am sorry to have to refuse
you, sir, but the next is a waltz and I have given Lord Ralph my word to waltz
only with him." This was said in a polite level voice without the smallest hint
of sorrow.
"Then may I beg the next country
dance?" asked Percy, hopefully.
Emily felt bound to accept.
"And may I sit this dance out
with you," he asked, taking the seat beside her. "Your betrothed appears to
already have a partner.
Emily looked over to where her
fiancé was dancing with Olivia in his arms. She did not feel the twinge of
jealousy or regret that she ought. In her mind she knew she felt
disappointment, but it was not in him, only in her situation. She sighed and
Percy mistook her feelings.
"If you were promised to me, I
would never treat you with such lack of feeling," he said softly.
She coloured a little at the
familiarity he spoke with, and looked away. She saw James Warrington across the
floor, sitting with the Miss Turnbulls, and her heart warmed. She didn't
question why it mattered to her that he was not waltzing; she was just
gladdened to see that he was not.
Percy sensed her relaxation, and
thought that his gallantry had impressed her. "The waltz is a dance for lovers,"
he said in the same low voice. And then he added tentatively, "I would give
anything to stand up with you at this moment."
Emily turned back to him with a
startled look on her face. She had not been attending to him, her mind
wandering pleasantly on its own course, but his comment had brought her back to
her present predicament.
"Sir! I can't think you are
aware what you are saying!"
"I am always aware of my words,
my thoughts, my desires." He gazed into her eyes and smiled beguilingly.
"I must ask you to stop, or
leave me," she said severely.
Percy realised he had
overestimated his position. "I sincerely apologise. I let my feelings overrule
my head. I beg your forgiveness," he whispered contritely. "What think you of
the dance? Is not the room most tastefully appointed?"
"It is very refined," she
answered happy with the change of conversation, but wishing he would go away.
They continued conversing upon the same lines, Emily keeping her responses as
brief as civility would allow.
Meanwhile, Lord Ralph was
enjoying himself as never before. Miss Rutherford was so light and airy in his
arms. The scent of her perfume, the feel of her dainty hand in his, were almost
overpowering. She looked up at him and sighed. "You dance so very well," she
said in a husky little voice. To Lord Ralph it was the height of erudition. He
was trying to calculate how he was going to balance the three women in his
life. He did not want to deny any one of them their due attention, nor did he
want to deny himself.
Bertie looked over to the dance
floor, one couple his focus of attention. He was beginning to feel very put out
with Lord Ralph. What did he think he was doing waltzing with the Rutherford
chit? As the couple twirled upon the floor, he met Olivia's eye, and he could have
sworn she gave him a look of apology as if to say, ‘I'd rather it was you.'
This did something to dissolve his fulminating rage, and he vowed to have her
hand for the dinner dance.
They all went down to dinner
paired up admirably; Emily on Lord Ralph's arm, Sophie on Percy's, Olivia on
Bertie's and Ruth on James's. Bertie looked around and thought, ‘This is just
as it should be.' Sophie could see no other solution either. Lord Ralph's arm
must always be Emily's for dinner, and after their sojourn on the terrace, she
was well pleased with Mr. Braithwaite's attention. Ruth was happy to be with
Mr. Warrington, as no one else of the company pleased her more than he did, but
she wished things could be otherwise and her two friends could be together.
After they were comfortably
seated, she leaned towards James and said, "I hope you will allow yourself a
dance with her."
He looked at Ruth and considered
how to answer her. They both knew what she was talking about so there was no
sense in prevarication, though this night was the first time James had heard
Miss Chesterton voice anything openly, and this was the second time in the
evening she had done so.
"I don't know why you are
encouraging me, there is no point to it."
"You are both my friends. I only
want your happiness."
"She is my friend. I mean to do
everything in my power to support her. I am in no position to do anything else,
even if I wished to."
"Am I not your friend? And yet
you have no hesitation to dance with me." Ruth fixed him with her candid gaze.
"You are not in her position."
"No, I am not. And you want to
protect her from any speculation. But there is talk about your intentions
towards me. Do you not want to protect me from idle gossip?"
He looked at her ruefully. "I
must apologise for that. I have denied it whenever asked."
"I do not doubt that."
"You must see that the situation
is entirely different. You feel nothing for me other than friendship. I have no
fears of inspiring other feelings in you. I know I do not." He looked
down at his hands.
"And so that is what you fear."
"I fear so many things, but that
is part of it. Her heart is young and fresh and I will do nothing to hurt it. I
have nothing to offer her."
"One dance will not hurt her.
And as a friend she will expect a dance. To do less is also hurtful," said Ruth
gently.
"I have said more to you than I
ever intended. I should say no more."
"I will keep your confidence,
and I promise not to plague you again, dear friend."
James looked at Ruth warmly.
Emily glanced over to where they sat and thought of how well they looked
together and how intently they were conversing, and surprised herself at the
little twinge of jealousy that ran through her. She had no cause to feel that
way -- she need feel nothing but happiness for her two friends, wasn't a match
between them really the best thing that could happen? Somehow this thought
brought her no comfort at all.
After dinner and the dancing
resumed, James took Ruth out onto the floor, their talk back to everyday
things. Next he led out Miss Anastasia, the last of his duty dances. The
following dance he would ask Miss Emily for her hand.
Lord Ralph brought Emily back to
her chair after their post dinner dance and found Sophie standing alone beside
the floor.
"How comes it that you are not
dancing?" he asked her in surprise.
"I have had numerous
invitations," said Sophie, "but I informed them that the next dance was
bespoken."
"Then where the deuce is your
partner? How dare he leave a sweet miss like you to kick her heels?"
"He has just arrived to claim
his dance, my Lord," she said with a suggestive little titter.
Ralph looked around, and upon
seeing nobody, finally understood the portent of Sophie's last comment. "Why,
you delightful little baggage!" he said.
Sophie glanced over to Emily to
see if she had heard, but she appeared to be deep in conversation with Lady
Prescott. She returned her eyes to Lord Ralph and regarded him meltingly,
"Well, are we not going to dance?"
"I think I would like to take a
turn on the terrace," said Lord Ralph boldly.
"Just the thing!" said Sophie
with a saucy smile. "It is indeed stifling in all this crush!" She placed her
hand on his arm and allowed herself to be taken out onto the terrace with only
a gentleman for company the second time that evening. The moon was just as full
and bright, the stars were twinkling madly, and the gentleman was not only more
handsome than the previous one, he was someone she had longed for since before
she could remember. She had to be sure to play this right.
Lord Ralph came up close to her.
"You look so dashed beautiful tonight, Sophie, that you don't know what it does
to me."
She took a little step back, and
rested against a column. "What does it do to you?" she asked with a giggle.
"It makes me lose my reason," he
said frankly. "And this blasted moonlight is no help either. It just serves to
make you more bewitching."
Maybe it was not as romantically
put as Mr. Braithwaite's endearments, but Sophie was still quite pleased with
his response. "And now that I have cast my spell upon you, how shall you serve
me?"
Lord Ralph closed in upon her.
"I will shower you with kisses!" And he reached out only to have Sophie slip
from his grasp.
"Lord Ralph!" she admonished
with affected shock. "You couldn't possibly." She gazed at him soulfully and
allowed a tear to slip down one of her rosy cheeks.
"Will you not let me taste those
sweet lips?" Lord Ralph stepped forward and grasped both her hands in entreaty.
"As long as you are promised to
another, how can you ask it of me?" She loosed a few more tears.
Lord Ralph pulled out his
handkerchief and dabbed at her cheeks, concern upon his face. "Do not tease me
so, Sophie. You know it is not my wish to be married. Can you not give me one
little kiss to show me that you care?"
"I could never act with such
impropriety, or do anything that would hurt my dear friend," she said demurely
as she allowed him to stroke her cheek in a most tender manner.
"Dash it all, I have no wish to
hurt Emily either, but she need never know."
"But I would know," said Sophie
hollowly. "Though I must own, I would dearly love for you to kiss me." She
looked up at him through her wet lashes and smiled beguilingly.
"You are a heartless tease!"
expostulated Lord Ralph as he leaned in to kiss her lips only to have her turn
her head at the last moment. The kiss landed on her guinea gold curls.
"Lord Ralph, what the devil do
you think you're doing?" asked Bertie as he strode over from the doorway.
"Your sister wanted some air,"
said Lord Ralph, taking two steps back.
"I'm feeling much better now,"
said Emily, casting a glowering look at her brother. "Thank you so much Lord
Ralph, it was just what I needed."
"You'd best not have been
importuning my sister!" said Bertie with a snarl.
"Don't be such a fool, Bertie,"
said Sophie and she flounced off with Lord Ralph following in her wake.
They re-entered the ballroom as
the set ended and returned to where Emily still sat. Lord Ralph was in a
quandary. He wanted to set things straight with Sophie, but he also thought he
should dance with Emily. She looked so devilish pretty sitting there, with her
hair arranged like that and that stylish gown. James Warrington approached at
that moment, and asked Emily for the next dance, looking both at her and Lord
Ralph for approval.
"You go ahead and dance with
Warrington, Emily," said Lord Ralph. "I never did get a chance to dance the
last with Sophie. Had to take her out on the terrace to get some air before she
had a fainting spell."
Emily, who had already nodded her
acquiescence to James before Lord Ralph had said this mouthful, looked over at
Sophie with some concern and asked her if she was feeling better.
"Oh, she's right as a trivet
now," said Ralph as Sophie simpered and tried to look languid, although her heart
was still racing from the scene on the terrace. Lord Ralph was too preoccupied
to notice the look on James's face as he led Emily onto the floor.
As soon as they were on the
dance floor, Lord Ralph said quietly to Sophie, "Blast Bertie for interrupting
us. You are not angry with me are you?"
Sophie glanced up at him
sweetly, "Whatever for?" she asked with feigned innocence.
James manoeuvred Emily further
down the floor so that they were not in the same figure as her fiancé.
"So that is the dress that you
were being poked with pins over the other day," he said, a little smile playing
about the corners of his mouth.
"Yes it is. As you can see, it
was finished on time despite my obstinacy!"
"It becomes you very well."
James had, in fact, been overwhelmed by her appearance when he first saw her
that night. Unlike the previous time he had seen her in formal attire, she did
not look artificially decorated. The colour of her gown warmed her complexion,
and her hairstyle suited her in the most natural way imaginable. Her serene
countenance seemed to have an inner glow. Her face had not changed, it was
still oval shaped, with straight brows and a mouth that was too small for
beauty, but her tender soul seemed to shine from her clear grey eyes making her
face the loveliest thing he had ever beheld.
This small compliment pleased
Emily more than any of the lavish ones that had been bestowed upon her that
evening. She smiled back at him, blushing lightly. "Were you caught in the snow
on your return?"
"I was, but I took great joy in
watching the flakes as they drifted through the air. Sophocles and I walked the
last mile, just enjoying the feel of the snow falling upon us. I'm afraid I
arrived at the stable fully white and quite shocked the livery boys!"
"It started before I was home as
well, and when I was safely in my own warm room, I sat in the window and
watched as the world turned white."
The complex figures of the dance
gave them little time for talk, but they both enjoyed the short opportunities
they had to converse together. Too soon the dance ended and James escorted
Emily back to her seat, where Bertie quickly claimed her for the last dance of
the evening.
Lord Ralph gave Sophie up to
Percy and looked about for Olivia only to see her already on the floor with
Geoffrey Billingsworth. There was nothing for it but for him to stand up with
Miss Cordelia, or not dance the last dance at all. Ralph's eyes followed Bertie
as he minced up the floor with his fiancée. He thought that Farquar was being a
trifle too conscientious in his attentions. He was laughing a little too much.
Emily was smiling a little too often. The ire that Bertie had raised in him on
the terrace began to resurface. The man was a philandering clod!
No sooner had the dance ended
than he came up to Bertie and said, "Farquar, a word!" and dragged him off to a
corner by the card room.
"What's got your dander up?"
asked Bertie.
"You! Ogling my Emily like
that!"
"What are you on about? Still
cross hatched ‘cause I came in on you and Sophie?"
"You're wide on that mark!"
cried Lord Ralph. "I won't be flummoxed by you shifting the subject. You were
fair on your way to making up to my fiancée while you were dancing with her,
and I don't like it one bit! You keep your eyes and your hands off her, do you
hear? She belongs to me!"
"Then I suggest you keep your
paws off my sister! She ain't your property."
"What's between me and Sophie is
between me and Sophie. And there's nothing, mind you! But I don't want to see
you giving Emily the eye again!"
"You are soft in the head!
You've never minded me dancing with her before! What am I supposed to do, close
my eyes when I see her?"
"Just bear what I've said in
mind," said Lord Ralph and he stalked off to order his carriage.
James, who had been about to enter
the card room to take his leave of Reverend Chesterton, had inadvertently
overheard the whole exchange, and it gave him much food for thought. Lord Ralph
did not give the appearance of somebody who would give up something he wanted
too easily. And for all his ostensible disinterest in her, it seemed that he
was intent on keeping Emily strictly to himself.
As James and his cousins rolled
home through the white landscape to Wortham Lodge, the carriage was filled with
the boisterous chatter of the brother and sister.
© 2002, 2003 Copyright held
by the author.