Lady Camshire had waited for the news from Lord David that Dipton Hall and the vicarage were ready and that Lady Marianne had been fetched from the North. She had then delayed her visit for a suitable period in which Lady Marianne could settle into her new quarters. Now the Countess would visit. The excuse for the visit was Lord David’s first sermon at Dipton, not the gala occasion with the Bishop in attendance, but the more modest one where first the parishioners of Dipton would get to experience what they could henceforth expect as their Sunday fare. Of course, Lord David might hire a curate to take on his duties, but his flock would still hear the occasional sermon from him.
Lady Camshire’s interest in Dipton had been particularly piqued by reference in letters by both of her sons and by Lady Marianne to a Miss Moorhouse, who seemed to play an inordinately large role not only in the lives of Dipton generally, but also in those of her own family. Most intriguing had been that Richard had mentioned her on several occasions, though he had only spent a very short time in Dipton. She was also interested to meet Captain Bush, who had been Richard’s first lieutenant and as such had occupied a good few pages in Richard’s letters of the time.
Lady Camshire picked the time of her arrival in Dipton with care. While the journey from Ashbury Abbey could be completed in one day, she preferred not to arrive at a late hour. In consequence, she broke her journey in Ameschester so that she could arrive at 10:30 in the morning. She had informed Lady Marianne of her coming and also Steves, the butler who had formerly played that role in her London house.
The passage through Dipton and up the drive to Dipton Hall of a coach and four with a coat of arms on the door caused quite a stir in the village. The Countess was greeted by Steves and a footman who opened the coach door and supplied a step to ease her way to the ground. She swept into the Hall with all the aplomb of someone who was there by right and was guided by Steves into the morning room where Lady Marianne and her two daughters awaited her.
Lady Marianne had never got over the bitterness that she had felt when the Earl had married the young Lady St. John eliminating Lady Marianne’s hopes of becoming the suzerain of Ashbury Abbey and of winning the affections of her father which had never in the past come her way. That resentment had in fact been at the heart of Lady Marianne’s scandalous behavior which had required Lieutenant Crocker to marry her and for the Earl to purchase a captaincy for Lady Marianne’s new husband, though the commission was in an unfashionable regiment. Even that action only occurred because of forceful pleading by the Countess; the Earl would have disowned Lady Marianne entirely to save the expense.
When Lady Camshire and Lady Marianne were seated in the morning room, they proceeded to have a prickly conversation about the Countess’s trip to Dipton, their health, and the weather. Soon, however, Lady Marianne let loose with a string of complaints about her treatment, especially her inability to make substantial changes to Dipton Hall at her own fancy and how that churl Edwards limited her expenditure on clothing and other necessities. Lady Camshire, who had been informed by Mr. Edwards, on Captain Giles’s instruction, of how generous was the allowance and of how hard Lady Marianne had tried to get around its strictures, was not sympathetic to her step-daughter’s complaints and did not hesitate to make her own views known. With conversation at an impasse after that discussion, Lady Camshire tried to talk with her step-granddaughters, but she found that was an uphill effort, her questions and comments being answered by rather sullen, one-word replies.
Only when the subject of balls was somehow introduced did the girls show any enthusiasm. The news tumbled out that Dipton Hall would be the site of a splendid ball in the very near future. Their mother was helping to arrange it with Miss Moorhouse. Mr. Edwards had authorized a special allowance for ball dresses for all three of them. Steves knew all about how these events should be carried out. Even Captain Bush, who only had one leg and one arm, could be counted on to dance. The ball would draw young men from all over the county, not just from Ameschester and not just the militia officers. The Dipton Arms was swamped with people wanting to stay there, and the good houses for miles around were going to have visitors who were coming only for the ball. One could expect a large number of young, unmarried men.
Lady Camshire loved balls. The excitement of anticipation and the actual event with crowds of people in brightly lit rooms, strains of music vying with the chatter of the onlookers, the constant observation of whose dance card was filled and whose was not, and whose romance might be flourishing or wilting. She had never been happier than when she was the hostess at the magnificent balls which she herself had held, better even than attending the other ones in the Season. She missed them now that she was not holding balls anymore and the Earl was not celebrating the Season as he formerly did. She resolved immediately to stay at Dipton until after the ball was held on the Wednesday following her son’s first sermon. After all, her presence could not help but add luster to the first ball held in her son’s revitalized Hall. Otherwise, as far as she could make out, the guests would lack anyone of real quality – except, of course, her son David. She would send her groom immediately to Ashbury Abbey to return with a suitable ball gown for herself.
Lady Camshire was surprised that Lady Marianne’s flood of complaint and criticism had not included the holding of the ball. Instead, Lady Marianne announced herself to be very much in favor of the ball; in fact, she was helping to organize it. From her own description of her role, however, Lady Camshire deduced that Lady Marianne’s part was very small and that the true organizing talent must lie with Miss Moorhouse. Lady Marianne had indeed adopted an enthusiastic and somewhat meek attitude toward the ball and this even extended to not complaining at the inconvenience which having a major event at Dipton Hall was bound to cause her or that it was being planned by the lowly Miss Moorhouse,. This strange behavior led Lady Camshire to believe that at last Lady Marianne had realized the need to show off her two daughters in the hopes that they would find a suitable mate despite the rather remote prospect that they would receive dowries from their uncle. They certainly would receive none from their grandfather. What Lady Camshire had yet to realize was that Lady Marianne had hopes that her own, far from faded, charms might attract a well-off and mature gentleman who would take her away from the necessity of eating at her half-brother’s board and sleeping in a bed he provided. That Miss Moorhouse was indeed arranging a good showcase for those charms, and that Miss Moorhouse’s father might be the one to succumb to them, was what allowed Lady Marianne not to complain about the rude and uppity behavior of Miss Moorhouse in arranging the ball.
Lady Camshire was becoming very impatient to meet Daphne, who seemed to be taking on far too large a role at Dipton Hall, “I want to meet this Miss Moorhouse,” she announced imperiously.
“That’s easy,” replied Lady Marianne, a bit pettishly. “I see that she has just arrived outside. I’ll ask Steves to request that she come in.”
Lady Camshire followed Lady Marianne’s gaze out the window. In the drive she saw a young lady riding a horse who was just coming to a stop at the portico. To her horror, she realized from the draping of her skirt that the lady must be riding astride though there was no bunching of the material at the pommel as one might expect. No sooner had Lady Camshire observed this strange behavior than the young lady swung her leg over the horse’s back to dismount, not waiting for the aid of a footman. Surprisingly, when she was on the ground, her skirt appeared to be perfectly normal. It was also made of very high quality cloth.
A moment later Steves announced, “Miss Moorhouse,” as the lady in question strode into the room.
Lady Marianne promptly said. “Lady Camshire, may I introduce Miss Moorhouse. Miss Moorhouse has been organizing the ball about which we were talking.”
Lady Camshire couldn’t resist trying to take the wind out of Miss Moorhouse’s sails. “I am surprised you are arranging such an elaborate ball for my son when he isn’t even here. It must be costing him a fortune.”
“We are using Dipton Hall; that is true, though only with Lady Marianne’s enthusiastic participation and we consulted with Mr. Edwards and Captain Bush about having it here before making any definite plans. Lady Marianne is, after all, a resident in Dipton Hall. The ball is being held to welcome Lady Marianne and her daughters and Lord David and Captain Bush and his mother and his sisters to Dipton. You have no idea how their arrival has changed our social scene. We had thought of waiting until Captain Giles could be here too, but Captain Bush informed me that, in time of war, there was danger that Captain Giles would be gone for years, or that if he could come to Dipton sooner, it might only be for a couple of days at very short notice. Furthermore, Captain Giles is not paying for the ball; my father is.”
“Why would he do that?”
“It would hardly do to have Captain Giles pay for his own welcoming party, especially since he isn’t likely to be here. My father has always wanted to have a ball in Dipton, but neither Dipton Manor, which is his estate, nor the Dipton Arms have suitable rooms, so he jumped at the very generous offer of Dipton Hall.” Daphne was well aware that she was stretching the truth.
“What exactly are you planning, Miss Moorhouse?” asked Miss Lydia Crocker eagerly.
“Oh, I’m hoping for a very elegant ball. The dancing will begin at six. It will start with an hour and a half of minuets. Then the musicians will switch to country dances. At nine, we’ll have supper, after which there will be another two hours of dancing. The ball will end at half past eleven o’clock.
“There will be a card room, in the drawing room, actually, and a separate room for those who just want to talk, away from the dancing. And of course, lots of chairs around the dance floor.”
“Will there be a master of ceremonies?” Lady Marianne asked.
“Yes, Mr. Jackson has agreed to serve in that capacity. He knows everyone around here and can get the name of anyone he doesn’t know. Since the point of the evening is to introduce new people to the community, it wouldn’t make sense to have any problem with introducing people who don’t know each other to one another.”
“I am most interested in the ball you have been planning, Miss Moorhouse,” announced Lady Camshire. “It sounds as elegant as the balls we used to have in London and at Ashbury Abbey. Indeed, more so, in that we did not have minuets and, especially towards the end, we just had tea rather than supper.”
“It may be a trifle overdone for a country ball,” conceded Daphne, “but my father did want to put on a very memorable one. It is more elaborate than any of the balls that are held in the great houses around here. Indeed, it will be more formal than the ones at the Assembly Rooms in Ameschester. Of course, for those one has to have a subscription ticket. I’ve never known them to dance the minuet. My father wanted something at least as fine as the balls we attended in Bath.”
“You have been to Bath, Miss Moorhouse?”
“Yes, two winters ago my father hurt his back and Dr. Verdour prescribed a course of the waters to cure it. We spent a couple of months in Bath and that is where I got my ideas about how to make a ball more special than the ones we usually have here.”
“I hope that the stay in Bath was good for your father’s ailment.”
“Not really. It was still as painful when we returned as when we left Dipton.”
“Does it still bother him?” asked Lady Marianne
“No. Mr. Jackson said that the cure at Bath was nonsense for my father’s ailment, and he prescribed a good course of exercise. I have persuaded my father to go riding for at least an hour every morning and now his back does not trouble him and he has more of the sparkle that he used to have.”
Lady Camshire reflected that she wished the Earl was as biddable a man. She also realized that she would have to be more direct with this young woman if she wished to make any progress on her main task.
“I hope that you are not starting to think that you would want to be permanently in charge of Dipton Hall, Miss Moorhouse,” the Countess declared.
“Heavens, no! Captain Giles will be perfectly able to manage his residence, and I’m sure his wife, when he marries, will be more than capable of maintaining and decorating the Hall and ensuring the Captain’s comfort.”
Lady Camshire was most relieved to hear that implicitly Miss Moorhouse had no designs on her son. After some more conversation about the ball and about Lord David’s coming sermon, Miss Moorhouse took her leave so that she could carry out some tasks related to the garden, a role that the Countess felt confirmed her opinion about Miss Moorhouse’s eccentricity.
Sunday came and Lord David’s sermon was deemed a success. Since almost all the congregation, including his own relatives, were in the habit of not listening to anything after the text was stated until the closing hymn was announced, the success of the sermon was a foregone conclusion and indicated only that Lord David had a voice whose tone was pleasant and that he did not preach too long.
The only dissenting opinion was held by Mr. Moorhouse who actually had listened to the learned discourse on a heresy concerning transubstantiation. He felt that the discussion was too dense for the parishioners of Dipton, and thought the heresy of little interest or relevance to any of the congregation. After the service, Mr. Moorhouse was introduced to the Countess, who was surprised to find an urbane and unpretentious gentleman not much older than herself who was the father of the most unconventional Miss Moorhouse. After the introduction, the Countess thought that she could better understand Lady Marianne’s unexpected enthusiasm for Miss Moorhouse. Mr. Moorhouse appeared to be an eminently suitable target for Lady Marianne’s wiles.
The day of the ball arrived with perfect weather. By five o’clock, all the preparations had been made. The coaches started to arrive and by six o’clock there was a large crowd gathered as Mr. Moorhouse led Lady Marianne out onto the dance floor, and Captain Bush led Miss Moorhouse for the first minuet. They were soon joined by other dancers and the ball was well under way. For the second minuet, Mr. Moorhouse asked Lady Camshire. After she got over the shock of being asked by a man so much her social inferior, Lady Camshire found that she quite enjoyed the dance, and when other men summoned up their courage to invite her, she found that dancing with men who were quite awed to be dancing with a countess entirely to her liking. Mr. Jackson made sure that Lady Marianne, the Crocker sisters and the Bush sisters were asked frequently, while he also made sure that Mrs. Bush, who declined to dance, was introduced to a stream of other people who did not want to dance. Daphne was never without a partner, though she never allowed her card to be filled for more than the next one or two dances in case there were some last-minute crisis that she would have to resolve.
A crisis did occur just after everyone had gone in for supper. The sound of a very loud voice erupted in the entrance way. Hurrying there, Daphne found a tired-looking and very angry Captain Giles shouting at Steves who was trying to calm him,
“Captain Giles! How wonderful to see you tonight,” declared Daphne.
Giles turned to her. “What is going on? Why is my house full of people?”
“We are having a ball.”
“What? Whose idea was that?”
“Mine. And I have Lady Marianne’s permission, and Mr. Edwards’s and Captain Bush’s.”
“I don’t like it. I told Steves that he should clear the house right now.”
“Captain! You can’t do that! We had no way of knowing that you would be arriving. Come into the library. You look exhausted.”
Giles and Carstairs had indeed had a long journey from Butler’s Hard. The distance was not great, but there was no way to get from Butler’s Hard directly by coach, so that they had followed a circuitous route, with delays at various points. It was late in the day before they arrived in Ameschester, only to find that the only mounts available were a pair of worn-out nags which no amount of encouragement would get to go faster than a slow walk. Something about a ball at Dipton having taken all the decent horses. They arrived in Dipton wit
h Giles’ head aching and his vision occasionally blurring so badly that he had wondered if he would be able to stay in the saddle until they arrived. There he had found his house filled with people and noise, just what he had not been wanting on his arrival.
Daphne whispered to Steves to bring some food and some wine – and to ignore the Captain’s order to clear the house. She led Captain Giles into the library and had him sit in a chair at one of the tables.
“I’m sorry that you are upset to find the Hall in use. We didn’t know you were coming.”
“I shouldn’t have to warn people that I am coming to my own home! I was too rushed to get here even to let Steves know I was coming. We only turned Patroclus over to the shipyard yesterday. Tell me, what is going on!”
“As I told you, we are holding a ball. It is to introduce your half-sister, Lady Marianne, and your two half-nieces to the community. And your brother, Lord David, and Captain Bush, and his mother and his sisters. Your Hall is the only place in Dipton to hold a ball. It was to be for you, too, but Captain Bush told us that we could not count on you being here on any particular day. It is a happy coincidence that you have arrived to be part of it.”
A New War Page 18
