Chapter Three
Invitations had been sent out for the Congreves’ ball. Sent to Serafina Darcy and her mother and father; sent to her cousins, Mr Darcy and Elizabeth. Sent to almost everyone who was anyone in London society.
But not to any member of the Latymer family.
“It’s an old quarrel,” Ranulph told his friend. “Our estates have a common boundary and there was a dispute over land in my great-grandfather’s day that caused a deal of ill feeling and has never been resolved. On top of that, we Latymers and the Congreves are poles apart politically. My father and Lord Congreve sit on opposite sides in Parliament, one a fervent Tory, the other a fanatical Whig, and they have bitter encounters on the floor of the House and even in the lobbies. I have no intention of carrying on any such disagreeableness, I can promise you, and I trust that when he grows up, I dare say Congreve’s son, who is still in the nursery, will have more sense than his forefathers and the families will be reconciled. For the moment, though, I’m persona non grata with that family. Although I have a plan…”
Marcus knew Ranulph in this mood. That was the look he had when, as a soldier, he’d volunteered to lead a forlorn hope, filled with sudden energy and every sinew taut.
“A plan?”
“Yes, I’ve decided to go to this ball.”
“How, pray? The Congreves know you, you wouldn’t get a foot inside their door.”
“You’ve had an invitation, haven’t you?”
“I have, and I’ve no intention of going. Masked ball, indeed; I have better things to do with my time.”
“It’s the masks that gave me the idea. I shall go in a mask and you will contrive to get me into the ballroom. I can’t stand in line to be welcomed by Lord and Lady Congreve, that’s too risky. You accept the invitation, arrive in good time and go into the house and ballroom quite in the usual way. I happen to know there is a passage alongside the ballroom with a door that leads in at the side. How do I know? Ah, you forget, my valet once worked for Lord Congreve’s brother, a fact I made sure my father never knew. But never mind that. At the end of the passage is a door into the garden. You see to it that it is unbolted, I shall slip in through the garden, which is no problem at all from the rear of the house, and there I will be, among the company in my mask, dancing the night away.”
“I never heard anything so preposterous. And why? It is just another ball, no better or worse than a dozen others held during the season.”
“A whim; I do not like to be excluded. And I have a fancy to dance with Serafina, I can imagine her eyes gleaming at me through the mask. She will be so surprised, but she will find it a great jest.”
“Not if you are discovered. They will unmask at some point, what then?”
“By then I will have had my dances and slipped away, unnoticed.”
“Pure folly.”
“If you won’t do it, then I know several fellows who will.”
“Yes, and gab about it all over the town; if word of any such adventure reaches your father’s ears, that will put him in a temper with you.”
Ranulph shrugged. “That’s nothing new.”
“And all this to dance with Serafina, when you may dance with her any other day of the week?”
“Ah, but there’s no thrill in that. None of the fun of dancing with her under the nose of my father’s bitterest enemy.”
Chapter Four
At the Latymers’ ball, Serafina was astonished by the extravagance of some of the guests’ masks, which were extraordinary in colour and style. All the artistry that evening was in the masks and dominos; it was not a costume ball.
She wore a mask in a shade of pale green to match her evening dress. A pretty mask, decorated with pearls, and when she’d first tried it on, she was amazed how effective a disguise it was. Were she to catch sight of herself in a mirror here in this glittering assembly, she would hardly know herself.
Julia Congreve’s’s older sister, Amelia, had made her come-out at the same time as Serafina. She Amelia had married well and was now living in Dorset and she wrote from there asking Serafina to befriend Julia. “She is young for her age, and I would not like her to get into a scrape. Of course Mama will be bringing her out, but you remember how easily she is distracted by chat or a game of cards.”
In fact, Julia Congreve had made her entrance into society with aplomb, and was one of the prettiest and most sought-after of those making their come-outs. An enchanting young lady, sparkling with happiness and flirtatiousness of—or so it seemed—the most innocent kind. On that evening, for her own ball, she had stood next in line to her parents, her cornflower blue eyes and fair beauty enhanced by a pale blue gown, its simplicity belying the steep price Serafina knew it must have cost her parents.
Amelia had said in her letter that although carefully brought up, Julia had a headstrong streak to her nature, and she hoped this would not bring her to harm or cause her to become involved in any scandal.
Julia smiled demurely at Serafina, not a whiff of the headstrong about her. She murmured how happy she was to see her there. With her looks and the fortune all the Congreve girls were lucky enough to have, she would certainly not lack for suitors. Indeed, a cluster of young men were behind Serafina, bowing and shaking hands with the Congreves, and Serafina could see Julia’s attention drifting as she dimpled pretty smiles at them and made play with her big blue eyes. None of the men held any interest for Serafina. Why should they? She was about to become an engaged woman, with a wedding planned by her and Ranulph for September with a bridal trip to Italy.
She’d received a note from him that morning, telling her she might meet an unexpected acquaintance at the ball. Mystified, and with her mind elsewhere at the time, she had thought little of it. It wasn’t until half an hour after they had arrived—and she and her parents had come at a fashionably late hour—that Serafina realised what he meant by that cryptic note.
By this time, Lord and Lady Congreve were no longer standing at the top of the stairs receiving guests, and any late arrivals were merely announced and then passed into the throng. She happened to be looking in that direction when two men came through a door to one side. Good God; masked they might be but she knew immediately who they were. It was her Ranulph, and the man with him was his friend Marcus. A clever, sardonic man whom she did not greatly care for. He had a quick tongue and a ready wit, and she always had the feeling that he did not approve of the attachment between Ranulph and her. She took little notice of that, what was it to do with him? Although she had once, when Mr Talbot had been more than usually challenging in his conversation with her, asked Ranulph why Marcus disapproved of her.
Ranulph laughed at this notion. “Oh, that is just his way. We were soldiers together you know, only now we have gone our different ways and I spend my time on my father’s estate while he slaves away at some government work. He serves his country while I live in idleness, but he is an excellent fellow.”
She had to admit that while Ranulph in her eyes was the epitome of masculine beauty, Marcus did appear to advantage in his evening clothes and his black mask. But even with half his face hidden, the glint in his eyes as he looked at her was not one of friendliness. Ranulph was wearing a painted mask that she thought disguised him admirably. Just as well, in that company.
He pressed her to dance with him immediately, but she was promised to another man, a detestable creature who now appeared at her side to claim her for the dance, so Ranulph had to be content with her assurance; that the next dance would be his.
As she went off with her partner, Marcus made his move. Julia was passing that way, and he stepped in front of her with a graceful bow. Serafina couldn’t hear what he said, but a moment later Ranulph was bowing over Julia’s hand and a moment after that, he was escorting her into the dance. Good heavens, why had Marcus done such a thing? Julia had promised the dance to another man, and she could guess who that was when she saw a disgruntled young man eyeing the couple as they took their places.
She watched him as he shrugged and moved away to join a group of gentlemen. Then Marcus was seized upon by Lady Congreve and the next she saw, he was leading out a pretty redhead who seemed full of vivaciously chatter. Serafina hoped she was a poor dancer who would tread on his toes.
The dance was a quadrille, and as she went unthinkingly through the intricate pattern of steps, she longed for the dance to finish so that she could dance with Ranulph. At last it was over. She curtsied to her partner and thanked him, but all the time her eyes were raking the ballroom for Ranulph.
Who was nowhere to be seen.
He must have come off the floor at the same time as Julia, but where was Julia? A moment later Marcus was beside Serafina. He took her arm, as if to draw her to one side. She shook him off and said, “Where is Ranulph? We were to dance.”
They were attracting some attention and, noticing this, Marcus hooked his arm through hers and pulled her to where people were lining up for the next dance.
“I am not dancing with you,” she said. “I am to dance with Ranulph. Oh, don’t tell me that someone has recognised him and he has been made to leave.”
“No, but he can’t dance with you now.”
The musician struck up and it was impossible for her to do what she wanted, which was to dash out from the dancing couples and go to find Ranulph. She made a sad show of it; she did not in the least want to dance with Marcus and she did not like his amused, knowing smile. It was only when she had reached the top of the dance and was working her way down again that she caught sight of Ranulph. He was still in the ballroom, tucked away in a corner, obviously deep in conversation with someone.
She could not see who it was, but for the moment she was satisfied. She assumed that he had met some acquaintance who had recognised him, despite the mask. It didn’t explain what had happened to Julia, but of course people had to leave the ballroom for all kinds of reasons. She would go over to Ranulph the instant the dance finished and until then must mind her steps. She was dancing clumsily and attracting dark looks from others in the line.
If the quadrille had seemed to go on for far too long, this country dance was interminable, although Serafina did notice, with what was left of her rational self, that Marcus was a better dancer than Ranulph. It was of no account; for the moment, she found his company nothing but irksome.
This time there was no politeness. The minute the dance was over, with no curtsies nor thanks to Marcus, Serafina darted over to that part of the room where she had seen Ranulph. And there he was.
Not, as she had supposed, talking to some old acquaintance, but deep in conversation with Julia. They sat on a small sofa, close together, heads almost touching, her blue eyes were fixed on his face. Her own wore had an entranced expression that made Serafina want to slap her.
Once again, Marcus put a restraining hand on her arm. Once again, she shook him off and before he could stop her, had darted off to stand in front of the couple. Ranulph looked up with surprise, staring at her as though he had no idea who she was.
Serafina said, “We were engaged to dance.”
There was a long pause and then Ranulph stood up. But instead of taking her hand, he held his own out to Julia. Serafina stood stock still. He could not stand her up in order to dance with Julia again. Indeed, he could not dance with her again so soon after a previous dance. It would be a shocking thing for a young girl in her first season to do and would certainly bring Julia’s mother down upon her. And, apart from the impropriety of it, such behaviour would be noticed. People would begin to ask who the young man in the silvery mask was, and then goodness knows what trouble might not ensue.
Serafina said to Julia, “You are new to society, Julia, but were Amelia here, she would tell you what I think you must know: you should not dance twice with the same young man in such quick succession.”
The little wretch replied with complete carelessness, laying her hand upon Ranulph’s arm and smiling up at him the most beguiling way, “Oh, we do not intend to dance. It is very close in here and I know another room we may go to where we will be more comfortable.”
She was all set to carry Ranulph off, but Serafina was determined not to let them out of her sight. She made as though to follow them, but this time, Marcus held her in an iron grip from which she could not release herself.
“Do not make a scene.”
In truth, Serafina had known from the minute she saw Ranulph introduced to Julia what had happened. Unbelievable though it was, like something out of a fairy story, it seemed that these two had met, exchanged glances and fallen instantly in love.
She wasn’t the only one to think that. Marcus said, his mouth close to her ear, “It is what the French so aptly describe as a coup de foudre.”
Serafina whirled round on him. “You know that Ranulph has proposed to me and I have accepted him. We are betrothed, the announcement will be in the Gazette this week.”
Marcus looked down at me. Was there a trace of sympathy in those eyes?
“I don’t think that notice will appear in the Gazette, Miss Darcy, this week or next, or ever. Yes, you may bridle and look affronted, even dismayed, but it is a truth you will have to face up to. Permit me to say, as an old friend of Ranulph’s and one who has his and, I assure you, your best interests at heart, that a match between you is not destined to make either of you happy. In short, you are not well suited.”
Serafina’s indignation by this time knew no bounds. “By what authority do you declare what is right for your friend, or even more so what is right for me?”
Marcus said, “Ranulph is a good sort of man, and I know him through and through. He will do well and will enjoy a happy marriage as long as he has a biddable wife who looks up to him and admires him.”
Nobody could call Serafina biddable, that was true enough—and she was glad of it.
“No one could admire Ranulph more than I do.”
He shook his head. “That is what you say. You are in love with him and, as we all know, love is blind. But it would not last; he would soon fall off his pedestal and then you would find, as affection languishes, that you were left with a man you cannot admire nor like. You are too clever, Miss Darcy. You have too much of wit and quickness about you to be a suitable wife for Ranulph. He is charmed by you, flattered by the fact that you fell in love with him, and I am sure he genuinely thought himself in love with you. But believe me, someone like Julia would be a much better match for him.”
She stared at him. “You have taken leave of your senses. How can a schoolgirl just out of the schoolroom be a suitable wife for him? She knows nothing. He is, I dare say, the first handsome man to smile at her and pay her any attention. And that is enough to make her think him wonderful and so she throws propriety and decorum to the wind and dances off with him to some snug corner where they may be private. Fine behaviour for a daughter of the house!”
“You must be aware how strictly Julia has been brought up. You did not need to tell her not to dance twice with the same man; that kind of thing has been drummed into her since she was a little girl. So think what strength of feeling there would need to be for her to lay that training aside and be swept off her feet by Ranulph. We have just witnessed that rarest and most improbable of things: Love at first sight. The two of them have met and have fallen in love. And there is nothing, Miss Darcy, that you can do about it. My advice to you is to accept it and put a good face on it. Do not let an inquisitive world, eager for gossip, know how affected you are by this unlikely romance.”
Her mind was in a whirl and she hardly heard his words. All she wanted was to get Ranulph away from that wretched chit. How? If she breathed a word to any of the Congreves that they had an intruder among their guests, then Ranulph—and Marcus—would swiftly be discovered and made to leave. But then Marcus would know she was responsible, and would no doubt tell Ranulph. In any case, they had smuggled themselves into the ball as a jest; would they care if they were unmasked and known for who they were? Indeed, the clock was
now ticking briskly towards the hour at which Lord Congreve had announced that the guests must all unmask.
“What then for your plans?” she said. “When Julia discovers who he is, that he is a Latymer, there is an end of this love at first sight nonsense. She will be angry; she will feel herself deceived, she will want to have nothing mre to do with him, and certainly her family will take steps to ensure they do not meet again.”
“If you believe that, you are not so well read as I expected you were,” Marcus said calmly. “Amor vincit omnia; I am sure you know the quotation.”
“That is all very well in the world of fancy, but in real life it does not work like that. Ranulph loves me and I love him. Ours is a lasting affection, not the whim of a moment.”
“Is it?”
Chapter Five
Nearly a year had passed since that night. Serafina appreciated the pleasures of the country in the summer, particularly during the weeks she spent at Pemberley with her Darcy cousins, but in January and February, when she was at home in Northumberland under grey skies, with snow on the ground and lanes so dirty that she couldn’t even go out for a walk, she usually longed for town life.
They had a family gathering at Christmas, and occasional guests to vary the monotony of the dreary winter months. One of the visitors that year was Lord Gilbride. He had extensive estates in Devonshire, but was travelling north to attend to some business in Scotland. Only slightly acquainted with Mr Henry Darcy, he paid the visit, so he said, to discuss some parliamentary matter that was to come up in the next session.
Mrs Henry Darcy received this explanation with a knowing nod toward her husband. She had noticed that Lord Gilbride, during a brief visit to London the previous season was taken with Serafina. He came too late; Serafina had already formed an attachment and while her mother felt a touch of regret for the might-have-been, since Lord Gilbride was a wealthier man than Ranulph Latymer and a baroncy must always rank above a mere baronet, her daughter had made her choice and was happy in it.
Mr Darcy Requests the Pleasure Page 16
