Star Sapphire: Love and wild adventure in Regency England

by Janet Louise Roberts

  STAR SAPPHIRE

  Janet Louise Roberts

  writing as

  Rebecca Danton

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  MORE BOOKS BY JANET LOUISE ROBERTS

  CHAPTER 1

  Sonia gazed in excited wonder, close to tears, at the magnificent chandeliers in the ballroom, lighting the polished floor, glinting off the panelled mirrors on the walls, glistening on the jewels and waving fans of the elaborately gowned ladies and gentlemen. Often, passing in her carriage, returning from a concert or a play, as she heard the music, saw the torches blazing, she had wondered how these houses looked inside. Now she was here, actually inside the home of a duke, a guest at his ball.

  Her uncle’s head bent toward her affectionately, his grey beard quivering. “Do you like it, my dear? Is it not grand? Is the drink to your liking?”

  “Oh, Uncle Meyer,” she breathed. “It is the most splendid place in the world!”

  He smiled a little sadly, his dimming eyes shrewd. “No, not the most splendid, but it is very grand. The Prince of Wales himself comes here at times.”

  “Oh, really? The prince himself?” Her grey eyes sparkled with unusual merriment and pleasure. She was stirred to such excitement, and indeed had been since the invitations had arrived. She fairly trembled inside, and she could not drink the cold punch. She was afraid she would be sick.

  The music lilted, she watched the couples form into patterns, bow gracefully, move to the country dances. She noted the splendid ladies, the fine gentlemen. They stared curiously at her, some boldly. She wondered how she looked to them.

  Outwardly, she must look much as they did. She had worn a simple white silk brocade of her own design, and with it the set of diamonds and sapphires on the silver filigree chain which she had completed recently. In her small ears were sapphire studs, and on one finger an immense sapphire ring. The white and silver set off her dark curly hair and bright grey eyes. Leah, her abigail, had set her hair in a high pile with long curls to her neck. Some stray tendrils drifted about her ears, and she brushed them back nervously.

  A gentleman came up, bowed to them, spoke in lisping French. Meyer Goldfine bowed to him, introduced him to Sonia.

  “Monsieur Frery,” he said, “my niece, Miss Sonia Goldfine.”

  The Frenchman bowed deeply, bent over her hand. She was afraid he would kiss it, and braced herself. She did not care much for him, he wore such shocking bright colours and his perfume was strong and disagreeable. To her relief, her uncle was brusque with him — polite, but turning him off.

  Another man came up, a dark-haired Englishman. He looked nicer. Sonia stiffened, wondering, shy, as he looked her over. He turned to her uncle, spoke politely.

  Uncle Meyer was all smiles, clasping Sonia’s arm firmly. He liked this man, she thought. She could always tell by his manner, for however polite he was, she sensed his manners and moods. She had lived with him and his two sons since the early death of her father many years ago, when she was eleven. Uncle Meyer had taken her — and her problems and tribulations — to his heart. He had been a father to her: a guardian, a mentor.

  “Sonia, my dear,” he said, “may I introduce Sir Frederick Toland? Sir Frederick, my dear niece, Miss Goldfine.”

  The man bowed. He was short, intense-looking, serious. She rather liked him. He did not look her up and down, merely gazed right into her face, murmured politely at the introduction. He remained to talk.

  “A splendid occasion,” said Sir Frederick, glancing into the distance as the couples danced and bowed.

  “Very splendid,” said Uncle Meyer amiably, one hand behind his back, one hand on Sonia’s arm. “ I believe the Prince of Wales sometimes attends.”

  “Ah — yes. But not tonight, I believe. He is out of London.”

  “Indeed?” said Uncle Meyer, as though not fully aware of it. He knew, because he had spoken of it at luncheon today. “Well, well, a fine company. Beautiful music.”

  “Very fine music. Ah — I wonder if I might ask your niece to honour me with a dance. Another set will be forming shortly.”

  He spoke so stiffly. Is he shy? Sonia wondered, as her uncle beamed, nodded his approval, and put Sonia’s hand on Sir Frederick’s arm. They waited for the music to cease, then Sir Frederick led her over to several other couples. They bowed to her, he introduced her amiably and correctly. The names were lost in the music.

  He danced with her, silently, seriously, leading her through the maze quite correctly. It seemed a very long dance to her; she had rarely danced, though she knew how. Her cousins had taught her, and she had sometimes danced in their home to the music of violins. This was different. People were staring at her, whispering, their heads together, fans waving. She was relieved when he returned her properly to her uncle, bowed, thanked her for the dance, and vanished in the crowd.

  But she breathed more easily. She had actually danced a set in the home of a duke! She was not a complete failure — a gentleman had asked her to dance, and she had acquitted herself with dignity. Now she dared to look at the spectators. She was not the only object of their curiosity. They nodded to others, whispered, giggled behind their fans. The gentlemen strolled about, eyed the young ladies, drank their punch and something stronger, and showed their fine legs in the tight pantaloons.

  Sonia was twenty-three, but she had never been presented at Court. A Jewish girl could not expect this. Jewish merchants were accepted reluctantly at dinners, they headed charitable societies, they were bankers and brokers, they were in trade and did well. But their women were kept at home, in their own society. Now she wondered why Uncle Meyer had broken his own unspoken rule and taken her to the home of a duke. He seemed excited also, under his usual mild, amiable manner.

  They did not eat. They had dined before coming, and had arrived a little late. Sonia did not observe strictly the rules of diet, but her uncle did, and she respected his observance. Her father had not done so, nor her mother, there in far-off Vienna, where they had lived so happily in her early years — until —

  She shut off sad thoughts firmly. She had a stern rule for herself. Forget the bitter past, live for the present, do one’s duty, and have charity for those less fortunate. They had served her well, those precepts.

  On her uncle’s arm, she strolled about the room during the supper hour. She caught whispers, and hoped he did not.

  “Jewish!” uttered one hoarse voice from an immense female in purple satin, with plumes waving from her head as if she were a handsome horse. “Know them — merchant — bankers — rich — look at those jewels! In trade. Disgusting, that we must associate with them wherever we go!”

  Sonia did not flush. She turned a little pale and clutched her uncle’s arm protectively. Perhaps he had not heard, his hearing was dimming with his eyesight.

  “They would never have been received in my day!” said a shrill feminine voice near the first woman. “Never! Jewish — we never saw them! Now they are everywhere, at the opera, plays — I suppose the House of Commons will be next!”

&nbs
p; “Never!” said a firm masculine voice, from a red-faced beefy-looking gentleman in bottle green. “That will never happen! They can lend money, but they can’t buy us. Jewish money buys almost anything — but not our government, thank God!”

  Sonia drew a deep breath, and urged her uncle on. At the wide staircase leading to the lower floor and the carriage entrance, she whispered, “Uncle, may we not leave? I have danced, and we could leave now —”

  “No, no, my dear,” he said absently, patting her hand. “It is much too early. Insulting, you see. Must remain for a time. Ah, there is our host —”

  Uncle Meyer led her up to a splendid-looking gentleman with powdered white hair and a lean pleasant face. He spoke to them, beamed down at Sonia.

  “What a lovely niece you have, Mr Goldfine,” he said. “Where have you been hiding her? And those gems — how did you get your hands on them? Don’t let my wife see them!”

  Uncle Meyer laughed, well pleased at the jovial tone. “Ah, sir, you tease us. I happen to know your lovely wife has an excellent collection of gems —”

  “Never enough, Mr Goldfine!” And the duke put an elegant finger beside his long nose. “She’ll want them, never fear!”

  “These belong to my niece, who designed the necklace,” said Meyer Goldfine proudly. “She is in jewellery, and does beautifully. Everything she wears, she made herself.”

  “Well, well, talented as well,” said the duke, and gestured to a man standing near them, looking with curiosity at Sonia. “May I introduce you to Sir Jonathan Wiltshire? Sir Jonathan, Mr Goldfine and his niece, Miss Sonia Goldfine.”

  They all bowed. The duke and Sir Jonathan strolled with them back toward the huge ballroom. People were staring at them, and whispering again. Sonia kept a smile fixed on her lips. She thought she understood now why her uncle had brought her. He thought she should have more jewellery commissions than she had, and she was advertising her wares! She touched the slender chain briefly, then let her hand drop. Well, she was not ashamed of it.

  From very early, she had known she had talent. She always had been drawing and sketching. She had taken her uncle’s gems, which he usually bought and sold in bulk, and formed designs for them. She had learned silversmithing and goldsmithing, and the art of designing beautiful necklaces, rings, tiaras, brooches. Now she had a workroom of her own in his home, and a drawing room where she received ladies and listened to their wishes for jewellery. She could supply any precious gem from the Goldfine stock, plus corals from Italy and India, ivory from Africa and the Far East, pearls from the Orient. Her designs were feminine and gracious — never bulky and heavy, but light and beautiful.

  Sir Jonathan, to her surprise, asked her to form a set with him and several other couples. Shyly, she went with him. He was tall, dignified, greying. He spoke little, but kept looking down at her thoughtfully as he led her through the dance. As they met another couple, Sir Jonathan smiled and called the gentleman “Alastair.”

  Sonia raised her eyes shyly to meet eyes so deeply blue they were like her sapphires, she thought, startled. Alastair! What a beautiful name for him! He was tall, blond-haired, tanned, with a rugged frame.

  He walked like a soldier, ramrod-straight and quick. His chin was proud. Sir Jonathan saw her looking after him, and said, “He was colonel of my regiment. He sold out a year ago, after his father died and he came into the estates.”

  “Oh — I see.” She watched him later, as he stood with a young man enough like him to be his brother, and two gay young girls, also blonde and blue-eyed. What a handsome family, she thought longingly, as Sir Jonathan whispered they were his sisters. He seemed devoted to them, and watchful, frowning at a young man who staggered tipsily as he tried to invite the younger one to dance, shaking his head at him.

  He was protective of them, she thought. How nice it would be to have someone care so much. But she was fortunate also, she added to herself. She had Uncle Meyer, and her two cousins, Jacob and Abner. They were both married, and she loved her sister-in-law Beryl. Bettina was more difficult; she was sickly and fretful after bearing three children. But she was lucky to have relations, devoted and caring for her.

  Sonia thought they would leave soon, but Uncle Meyer became engaged in conversation with an elderly gentleman who wanted to talk about the war with Napoleon. She stood patiently, on one foot and then the other, as they argued in low tones about how long the war would last, whether it was possible to defeat the French who had such a splendid record in battle. She smiled when they remembered her, and let her gaze wander about when they forgot.

  She kept looking for the handsome blond ex-colonel. How handsome he was, how tall and straight and fine. She saw him dancing with his older sister, laughing down at her, teasing her, for she shook her fan at him.

  Sonia looked about for Sir Frederick and Sir Jonathan, but they had disappeared. She had noticed several card-rooms, with gentlemen bending intently over cards and dice. Gambling — it was the vice and downfall of more than one Regency buck, her uncle had said disapprovingly to Jacob, time and again. They could not resist taking a chance. They bet on horses, on the outcome of a battle, on the turn of a card. On whether a fly would alight on a gentleman’s nose, Jacob had said, laughingly. Uncle Meyer had not thought it was funny.

  A red-haired young man came up to them, waited until Uncle Meyer noticed him.

  “Ah, Sir Philip!” said Meyer, smiling. “Allow me to introduce my lovely niece, Miss Sonia Goldfine.”

  The dashing youth, bending over in his tight white pantaloons, kissed her hand, beamed at her, and asked her to dance with him. Uncle Meyer nodded. “Yes, yes, run away. Our talk is dull for her, we speak of the war,” he explained to Sir Philip Ryan.

  On the dance floor, Sir Philip said, “You find the war boring?” and he sounded reproachful.

  Sonia gave him a quick shy smile. “Not really. Only it is so exciting here, I wonder that they can even think about wars and battles. Have you ever seen such an assembly?”

  He gave her an indulgent smile. “Yes, many times,” he said. “But you — are you just presented?”

  She bit her lip, turning a little pale. “No — ah, no,” she finally let it go at that.

  He gave her a quick look as they turned in the dance. “Ah — of course,” he muttered, flushing red. “Ah, splendid music tonight,” he said, and parted from her in the next move. When they came back together, he had a quick line of patter about the warmth of the September evening, the splendid supper, the fine gathering, how jolly everyone was.

  He took her back to her uncle, and he was still talking of fierce matters to the elderly friend. She stood patiently, waiting for him to be done. Surely they could return home now. But Meyer seemed absorbed, staring out absently at the gathering as they talked.

  Sonia opened her fan, moved it slowly to and fro to cool herself. The air had grown stiflingly hot with the many people in the room. It must be late, past midnight. She shifted to the other foot.

  She noted the blond man, Alastair. He was moving across the room towards their end of the hall. How graceful he was, how handsome, how serious, now that he was not laughing at his sister. How blue his eyes were, she thought, as he came closer and the lights of the candles lit his face.

  Sonia wondered wistfully whom he would ask for the pleasure of a dance. She cast a quick look around her. Was it the blonde lady with the lavender dress, and the brief hem showing her shoes? Or the red-haired lady in green, with the splendid emeralds? They were too heavy on her slim neck, but she seemed very proud of them, arching her head. She would have a headache tonight, thought Sonia. If she had had the designing of them, she would have created something in light gold, a pendant of that one fine emerald, and a slim chain connecting the others. The smaller emeralds should not be clustered like that; they were too heavy.

  Sonia started violently when the blond man stopped in front of them. Meyer turned quickly to him with a wide smile. “Ah, sir, there you are,” he said, as though he had been wait
ing for the man. “Lord Fairley, you are fortunate in your beautiful family. Your sisters would grace the finest ballroom in the country.”

  The man bowed, slightly, as though rather bored with the compliment. “Good evening, Mr Goldfine,” he said, and greeted the other man also, by name. Then he turned to Sonia.

  Meyer said, “My dear, may I introduce you to the Marquess of Fairley, Alastair Charlton. Lord Fairley, my niece, Miss Sonia Goldfine.”

  He had come over to them! She was stunned with the wonder of it. She acknowledged his greeting in a low voice. “How do you do, Lord Fairley?”

  The man did not smile, he seemed rather stern and detached. He said, “Miss Goldfine, may I have the pleasure of a dance with you?”

  He made no fine compliments, and did not bother to make conversation with her uncle. Sonia gave him a quick wondering look from beneath her long dark curly lashes, then nodded.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, and waited.

  Alastair Charlton held out his arm, and Sonia put her slim hand on the fine blue cloth. He led her out and they formed a set. He did not speak for a time, as he guided her through the movements. He was graceful, moving lightly and quickly, moving her with a gentle ease. When she leaned on his arm briefly, it seemed like iron, it was so hard. He was fit and hardy, she thought, probably from years as a soldier.

  “May I say how lovely you look this evening, Miss Goldfine?” he said halfway through the dance.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Then unexpectedly, he said, “I think I have seen you before, at the opera, and at a concert one evening. Do you enjoy music, Miss Goldfine?”

  “Oh — very much, sir. And do you?”

  “Yes, I like it immensely. And the plays, do you attend often? I believe I have seen you recently at a Shakespeare play.”

  A smile trembled on her red mouth, and her luminous grey eyes shone up at him. “Oh, yes, I went in the spring. Was it not splendid? The farce that followed quite put me out of sorts, it spoiled it all.”

  He smiled down at her, and his blue eyes turned warm from frosty cold. “I felt the same way,” he said gently. “Shakespeare is without peer, he should not be spoiled so.”