That was when Muriel and Sir Samuel became acquainted with Lady Julia Monroe and Miss Sophie Prichard. Sir Samuel's further misfortune led to his first dance with Miss Prichard. Lady Hopkins went on her way, leaving Muriel to stand with Lady Julia.
"The lovely Lady Charlotte is your sister?" Lady Julia's gaze moved from Muriel to Charlotte, who now stood up with Lord Henry. "I believe I can understand why the whole of London has relocated to this village. She is very lovely and so very graceful."
The attention of all who overheard their conversation focused upon the dance floor where, to Muriel's embarrassment, Charlotte promptly stumbled.
Lady Julia gasped, crying out.
Muriel merely gazed toward the heavens. In the future, her sister would be known as the very lovely and not so graceful Charlotte.
"I wonder if you might oblige me, m'dear." The pompous intonation of the familiar, of the superfluous, of the one and only Sir Philip addressed her. He held up his hand, staying Muriel's unwanted reply. "I have already had the extreme pleasure of making Lady Julia's acquaintance. I thank you."
So there was no puffing him off on her. Lady Julia stood there wide-eyed and seemingly more than willing to accept the baronet's attentions, only to be disappointed.
"I feel I must honor my host by extending the courtesy of dancing with his daughter." Sir Philip glanced around, clearly looking for Charlotte.
Had he no notion that all Charlotte's dances were taken? If by chance Charlotte learned of Sir Philip's desire to partner her, she might do the unthinkable and arrange to accommodate his request.
Muriel would make the ultimate sacrifice for her sister by dancing, an exercise that she admittedly loathed, with Sir Philip, whom she loathed more.
"Thank you, sir. I should be delighted." Muriel was far from any thought of satisfaction when it came to sharing company with Sir Philip.
"You?" he cried, undoubtedly not pleased, but he could not have been more unhappy than Muriel herself. "Very well. Shall we take this opportunity to make our way closer to the dance floor?"
She placed her gloved hand upon his and they stepped toward the center of the room. How Muriel dreaded his company. It was for the greater good, she told herself. Repeatedly.
Sir Philip chuckled, surely not with delight.
"What is it?" It surprised Muriel to see his normally unpleasant, stoic visage transformed into a pleasant, almost agreeable expression.
"If there were a contest to see who had the tallest shirt points, I daresay Lord Wells and Sir Evelyn Harrison would win." Sir Philip pointed out two gentlemen standing on the other side of the room. "If one should lean close and whisper to the other, I think someone's eye would be put out"
Men's apparel humor. It was not in the least amusing to Muriel.
"Look there, I believe Lord Stanton has designs upon your sister." Sir Philip might have thought his voice held a trace of apathy, but Muriel detected a protective quality in his tone.
Lord Stanton hovered near the dancers, obviously eager to partner Charlotte for the next set. Lord Henry's stern glances to the awaiting Lord Stanton warned him not to approach. His posture stiffened perceptively, and it appeared he was no longer enjoying himself on the dance floor.
Noting the silent drama, Sir Philip remarked, "You should not wish me to remain here idle. You cannot intervene, but I may upon your request." He tensed, ready to leap to Charlotte's aid.
"You'll do no such thing." Muriel thought it shocking he should act as her sister's champion.
Lord Henry extended his arm behind Charlotte, unwilling to relinquish his limited possession of her during his promised dance. "Odd's fish!" he cried, pulling away from her as if bitten, and rubbed his forearm.
Charlotte leaped from him at his oath.
Muriel hid behind her open fan, partially out of a small measure of guilt and partially so no one could see her laugh.
"What goes on there?" Sir Philip raised his quizzing glass to observe the commotion.
The straight pins Muriel had placed in her sister's bodice had succeeded in keeping the gentlemen at a proper distance, and the ball was just getting started.
Charlotte wondered if he had been looking at her. She could have hoped for as much, but doubted it. Sir Philip stood with Muriel, and it appeared as if they were waiting to take their places for the next dance.
Why had he asked Muriel? Even more impossible to understand was why her sister had accepted.
Charlotte would have loved to stand across from him, pass close to him during the steps of the dance, near enough to smell his cologne and feel the warmth of his hand against hers. But it was not to be.
"Lady Charlotte?" Lord Stanton nearly shouted at her, for he had called to her several times and she had rudely not even noticed.
"I am sorry, my lord." Charlotte had been caught staring at another man. She would hate to admit such an indiscretion to one of her most attentive suitors. "You inquire about your dance?" With a gift of a smile she extended her gloved hand. "Yes, it is indeed time."
Charlotte took his arm and they stepped forward to take their place with the other couples. She stood across from him for the country dance. Glancing down the line, she spied Sir Philip, realizing he was only a few couples down.
He was, as always, immaculately dressed, from the crisp folds of his cravat against the black evening dress with silver waistcoat and white breeches to the clocked stockings and spotless black dancing slippers.
The music began. The dancers bowed to their partners. She stepped toward Lord Stanton and back into the ladies' line.
Charlotte turned away, taking the hand of the other gentleman in her foursome. Still she could not keep her attention from wandering to Sir Philip.
She caught her slipper, which nearly sent her to the floor. This had not been the first time this evening.
"I beg your pardon," she apologized. This was the second time she had taken a misstep. Normally she was not such a clumsy clod, but tonight ... She had to admit she had eyes only for a certain baronet and not her current dancing partner, no matter who he might be.
For shame.
Again clasping her partner's hand, she moved to turn under their raised arms.
Had Lord Stanton not toiled, competed from the very first? He'd filled a pail full of gooseberries to earn him a place at tea with her. Then he'd raced across the green, in his stocking feet no less, to win the opportunity to learn something about her.
He hadn't won a challenge, yet he must have full knowledge of her wandering eye and difficulty hearing. He must truly love her, indeed.
Why had she found it so easy to look away from her own dancing partner? Devoted, attentive Lord Stanton. And here Charlotte pined for another man.
Lord Stanton was well connected and handsome, and would come into the title of earl just as Sir Philip would. But somehow the two men were not remotely the same.
Sir Philip did not have the obvious, traditional handsome visage. He was in possession of an attitude, a manner that bespoke total confidence. His face may have been perhaps a bit long, and his nose perhaps a bit big, and his mouth perhaps a bit wide.
During the dance, Sir Philip stepped lightly, with his straight back and perfect arm positions. His toes were pointed and moved with graceful precision. Charlotte could not help but feel the sum of his parts created a man she could truly love and admire for a lifetime.
For most of the Faraday Hall household, this was the morning following the Hopkins' ball. For Philip it was also the first day for his new valet.
"Good morning to you, Tom Sturgis," Philip greeted. "You look very fine this morning." He'd purchased suitable clothing for his new employee. Two days ago Philip insisted the young man bathe, have a fine meal, and get a good night's rest before meeting him at Faraday Hall for further instructions.
"And good day to you, Sir Philip." The boy stood taller, obviously proud of his appearance.
"Now what should we call you?" Philip figured he ought to have a new name
to go along with his new position.
"Young Sturgis is usually what they calls me, on account o' my older brother Frank is Sturgis," he said. "You could call me Tom."
"What about Thomas?" Philip suggested.
"Aye, that'll do me fine." His smiled nearly reached from ear to ear.
"I see you've found my jacket and my boots." It pleased Philip that his directions were followed with aplomb.
"That I have, right where you said they'd be." Thomas raised his left arm, the one with his employer's draped jacket, and then lifted a pair of Hessians in the air.
"If you wish to remain in my service, I shall guarantee you a decent wage for equal effort. I shall retain your services for as long I am willing to employ you and you are willing to remain."
"I'11 give it my best, gov."
"If you please, you should address me as sir." Philip reminded himself this was Thomas' first day.
"'Scuse me, o' course. Yes, sir."
"I expect to have need of your services for the entire stay in Town. When I am ready to depart for the country at the end of the summer, you shall have a letter of recommendation for subsequent employment. How does that sound?"
"Fair enough, sir," the young man replied. "I promise to do my best"
"Excellent" Philip nodded his head in agreement. "One other thing before you leave, Thomas."
"Yes, sir?"
"Even though I am your employer, I do still expect you to be your own man. Is that understood?" Philip did not care for a servant who scraped the floor, mindlessly following their employer's every direction.
"My own man- But, sir ... I don't think I understand." Thomas adjusted his hold on the boots.
Philip brought a fist to his pursed lips and cleared his throat. "I expect you have an opinion and I don't mind if you voice it every once in a while-especially if you think I may be in error."
"Wrong? You, sir? Can't imagine such a thing."
"You'd be surprised. An honest valet is as valuable, if not more, than one who can correctly starch a neckcloth."
"If you say so, sir." The young man chuckled goodnaturedly. "Can I be honest with you and speak my mind?"
"I insist upon it." Philip had the feeling he was about to receive his first of both. "Did you have something to say?"
"More of a question, really."
"I shall endeavor to do my best to satisfy your curiosity."
"I've lived in Bloxwich my whole life. I've grown up knowin' the Duke's family plenty while I helped my brother at the Wild Rose." Thomas shifted his weight from foot to foot, with what seemed growing unease. "It's just that I- I've been hearin' talk of Lady Charlotte in the village."
"Gossip, Thomas?" Philip could not help but raise his eyebrows in mild surprise.
"No, sir, I mean to say ... I'm askin' about her. If it's true or not, about her, that is. They says she's deaf on one side and missin' an eye on the other." His posture stiffened; the accounts clearly disturbed him. "I don't believe it, can't."
"I'm not certain I do either." Philip clapped Thomas on the shoulder. "Think no more about it. Once I find an answer, you can be sure I shall let you know."
He motioned for Thomas to continue on with his duties and then turned toward the house, facing the large Breakfast Parlor window. The movement of the curtains inside falling into place caught his attention. Had someone been there? Watching, perhaps? But they could not have possibly overheard the conversation.
Muriel moved away from the window, pressing her back to the Breakfast Parlor wall. While standing absolutely still, trying to avoid being found out, it dawned on her that she may have misjudged Sir Philip.
While she had caught most of what Sir Philip had said, she did not know to whom he was speaking. What she did catch was the baronet had hired himself a valet.
"Lady Muriel?" Sir Samuel stepped into the Breakfast Parlor. "Are you alone?"
"As you see," she replied at her discovery. Had he entered a moment sooner, he would have caught her spying. How would she have explained that?
"You are up rather early." He looked quite dashing in a frock coat, buckskins, and top boots.
"You are as well," she countered. "Would you care for coffee?"
"Thank you."
She took that as a yes and then heard faint but solid footfalls heading in her direction. Might it be Sir Philip?
Dropping her partially eaten toast on an empty plate, she simply could not occupy a room with him. As rude as she knew it might have been, Muriel quickly told Sir Samuel, "The coffee urn's on the sideboard; please help yourself," before leaving through the servants' door.
Muriel quickly headed toward the terrace, latching the door behind her. She pulled her shawl snug around her shoulders.
"Tom? Tom Sturgis, is that you?" Muriel saw him with a dark brown coat draped over his arm and a pair of boots in hand, heading for the stables. She moved swiftly down the stairs and meant to follow him regardless of his direction.
This is Sir Philip's new valet?
"Yes, m'lady." He stopped, waiting for her. "I mean to say ... er ... Lady Muriel."
Tom Sturgis, as far as she knew, helped his elder brother Frank around the stables at The Wild Rose Inn and performed odd jobs. He stood before her well-groomed, well-dressed, and eminently presentable. In his fine lightcolored waistcoat and pressed trousers, Muriel nearly did not recognize him.
"Whatever are you doing here?" She'd seen him in Bloxwich on occasion, but never at Faraday Hall.
"It's Thomas now," he amended. "Sir Philip ... er, that's Sir Philip Somerville, took me on to-" He stopped again and took a great deal of time to compose his reply. "Sir Philip has offered me a position."
"As a valet?" It was an enormous undertaking for the lad, who was perhaps only a few years younger than Muriel.
"Bit of this and a little of that. If I work hard, take proper care for his wardrobe, and run his errands, he'll learn me how to behave-er, teach me to talk like a right gentleman."
Muriel admired him for wanting to improve himself.
Somehow Charlotte had sensed the goodwill in Sir Philip from the start. Muriel had to admit she'd discovered he was not the completely odious, uncaring man she had once thought.
"I best be movin' along." With a nod of his head, Thomas excused himself and continued on his way. "I bid you good day, Lady Muriel."
Thomas Sturgis had changed before her very eyes. He displayed an enthusiasm and new purpose, and seemed pleased with himself and the new challenge before him. Sir Philip had single-handedly transformed Tom's life, and that made quite an impression on Muriel. Could it be she was losing her dislike for the baronet?
At the top of the stairs, Charlotte straightened the skirts of her morning gown. The household staff was up and about, busy with preparations. Morning calls would soon begin. Flowers from her suitors had been arriving for hours.
Stepping onto the main floor, she admired the lovely daisies, colorful primroses, and the multitude of wildflowers. To view hothouse flowers here in the country would have been a rare thing indeed.
Huxley opened the front door and in walked Susan Wilbanks. "Good day to you, Char-Char."
"Shouldn't you be at home waiting for your young men to call?" Charlotte asked, stepping onto the ground floor.
"Anyone who is in the least desirable will be here, not at Yewhill Grange, I fear. Where is Moo?" Susan untied and removed her bonnet.
"Moo is .. " Charlotte purposely paused before continuing, and along with Susan said, "... reading a book."
"I am so glad you have come, Sukey. I am feeling especially anxious."
"But why? Did you not have a glorious time last night at the Hopkins' ball?"
"Yes, I enjoyed dancing, but there were still so many gentlemen. To have them all pay calls ..." How could Charlotte explain that she and her sister were trying to discourage some of the men. Discourage some they had, but others seemed to take their place.
"There are always loads of visitors. Why should this afternoo
n be different from any other?" It was not Susan's fault she didn't understand Charlotte's difficulty.
"Ah, Sukey, I thought I heard your voice." Muriel appeared from around the corner of the corridor and set her bookmark in her volume, permanently concluding her morning reading. "Are we ready to face this afternoon's onslaught?"
"Char-Char is having some doubts." Susan took Charlotte's hand in hers, lending some support.
"I am no closer to deciding-" Charlotte stopped and closed her eyes. These last few days had been absolutely maddening. Both Muriel and Susan stared, waiting for her to continue. "As many as we have managed to convince that I may not be exactly who they believe me to be ... you must admit there are many who still remain."
"What are you talking about, Char-Char?" Susan, who now appeared more confused than ever, turned to Muriel for clarification. "You haven't done something to purposely discourage them, have you?"
"Moo thought it best if we ...... Charlotte began. "She had this idea that if I were to-"
"Not here." Muriel glanced around to make certain they weren't seen before suggesting they relocate to her sister's bedchamber to discuss the matter further. "I shall explain our actions to your complete satisfaction momentarily."
Upon entering her bedchamber, Charlotte made for her dressing table to collect a handkerchief to staunch the tears she feared might flow.
"The entire thing's been a deception," Charlotte supplied, feeling very guilty.
"Oh no, Char-Char-a test of their affection." Muriel regaled the tales of Charlotte's invented flaws to Susan, which only made her sister feel more dreadful.
After listening, Susan commented to Charlotte, "You weren't trying to hurt them. Do not fret, dear Char-Char. You will manage very well. There are loads of men left."
Muriel moved into the corridor. "Let us find Aunt Penny and we can welcome the gentlemen."
Only minutes later, they found Aunt Penny. The girls, led by Charlotte, descended the stairs, arriving to a near riot.
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