Opal started off, passing many beautifully dressed women coming and going on the way. Another young maid held the door to the powder room open for her and she went inside. She stood for a moment, admiring it. All along one wall were tiny gilt-legged chairs with a long mirror in front of each, where women of various ages sat powdering their noses and putting the finishing touches to their hair. Along the other wall was a row of closets. A voice she recognised came to her from the far end of the room and, looking towards it, she saw Esther Partridge deep in conversation with a woman sitting beside her.
‘It’s more than obvious that the little chit has set her cap at Henry,’ she heard Esther sneer. ‘And her nothing more than a so-called lady’s maid as well . . . Huh! As if he would ever look at someone like her! Why, Henry and I have had an unspoken agreement ever since his wife died. It will be only a matter of time before he makes me the next Mrs King. He would never lower himself to marry that little trollop. I can’t even understand why dear Mrs King even bothers to employ her.’
It suddenly struck Opal like a blow between the eyes that Esther was talking about her and as hot colour rose in her cheeks, she turned and fled back out into the corridor in a most unladylike manner. Further along, she could see Henry and his mother talking to their host and, trying to remember all she had been taught, she managed to compose herself. This was a special evening – a wonderful evening – and she was damned if she was going to let that woman spoil it for her. And so she lifted her chin, took a deep, steadying breath and went to join them.
‘Ah, here you are, my dear.’ Henry smiled at her. ‘Peter, may I introduce you to Miss Opal Sharp.’
‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ the tall, dark-haired gentleman said as she dipped her knee and inclined her head. ‘My wife is about somewhere; I shall introduce you as soon as I can find her.’
‘Thank you for inviting me, sir,’ Opal said politely.
‘You are most welcome, Miss Sharp.’ The man smiled at her.
Mrs King took her arm then and led her away, as Peter told his friend, ‘What a delightful young lady, Henry.’
‘She is indeed,’ Henry agreed and, keen to be at her side again, he excused himself and hurried after them.
Once all the guests had arrived, they were led into a large dining room, where a feast fit for a king was laid out on crisp, white tablecloths. Opal had been introduced to Peter’s wife, Emma, by then, and the two took to each other instantly. Maids were mingling amongst the guests with trays of tasty hors d’oeuvres and glasses of champagne and Opal accepted a glass, hoping that it would calm her nerves. The bubbles tickled her nose, but she found that it was rather pleasant so drank it too quickly – but strangely it did seem to calm her a little, and she tried to put the unpleasant episode in the ladies’ powder room out of her mind.
Staying close to Henry and Mrs King, she mingled with the guests and Henry noticed proudly that she was attracting more than a few admiring glances. Then, suddenly, Esther was in front of them.
‘Henry, my dear,’ she crooned, completely ignoring Opal. ‘How very smart you look in your evening suit. Quite dashing, in fact.’
‘How very kind of you to say so,’ he answered politely.
She clutched at his arm and in a girlish voice she purred, ‘I do hope you have reserved the first dance for me?’
Henry looked mildly embarrassed. ‘It would have been my pleasure, but unfortunately I have promised it to Miss Sharp.’
‘I see.’ She flicked open her fan and glared at Opal, then smiling at him sweetly, she said, ‘Perhaps later then?’
He gave a little bow. ‘Of course. It would be my pleasure.’
She turned and waddled away in a swathe of pink satin that did nothing to complement her ample figure.
‘Shall we make our way to the ballroom, ladies?’ Henry suggested. ‘I think I can hear the orchestra tuning up.’
The ballroom proved to be equally as grand as the other rooms Opal had seen, if not even more so, and she gazed about in awe as Henry led her and his mother to one of the many little velvet sofas positioned around the edges of the room. Enormous crystal chandeliers lit by a multitude of tiny candles were positioned here and there across the vast ceiling and the parquet floor was so highly polished that Opal was sure she could almost see her face in it. Once the women were seated, Henry took more champagne from a passing maid and handed the ladies a glass each, and slowly Opal began to relax.
On a raised platform at the end of the room, the orchestra were tuning up and soon they took their places as someone announced, ‘Take your partners for the first waltz please.’
‘Shall we?’ Henry stood and gallantly offered his arm as Opal peeped at Mrs King. Her two hands leaning heavily on her ebony-topped walking stick, the old woman gave the briefest of nods, so Opal took his arm and allowed him to lead her on to the dance floor as the orchestra began to play.
She felt so self-conscious as she became aware of eyes watching her that she stumbled a few times. Thankfully, Henry had his arm tightly about her waist and, forcing herself to relax, she began to enjoy it – and soon they were whirling about the floor, her satin skirts and petticoats billowing about her as he smiled indulgently down at her.
She smiled back up at him, lost in the joy of the moment, and it suddenly struck her that although he was somewhat older than her he actually looked quite handsome. He had lost a little weight and in his smart evening suit with his hair neatly trimmed, he looked quite distinguished.
She was breathless and flushed by the time the music stopped and she laughed as he led her back to her seat. But she had no sooner sat down, than a young man approached her and, offering his arm, he asked, ‘Would you care to dance, miss?’
She glanced at Henry and when he nodded somewhat sullenly, she went back on to the floor to dance a polka this time.
Minutes later, she noticed that Esther had claimed Henry and she had to stifle a giggle as they danced past. Esther was clinging to him as a drowning man might cling to a raft and, seeing how uncomfortable Henry looked as he tried to hold her at arm’s length, she almost felt sorry for him.
The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur. Opal was in great demand and rarely sat down, and she couldn’t remember when she had ever enjoyed herself so much. And then, halfway through the evening, a tall fair-haired man approached her and, once they were on the dance floor, he said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’
Opal blushed, ‘It’s Opal . . . Opal Sharp, sir.’
‘It’s very nice to meet you, Opal.’
Her stomach did a little flip as she looked up at him; he was the most handsome man she had ever met. He was nice too.
‘Are you from Nuneaton, sir?’ she asked tentatively, trying to remember Mrs King’s lesson on polite conversation.
He shook his head. ‘No, I live in Mayfair in London, actually. Oh, and by the way, I’m Matthew Darby-Jones. I almost forgot to introduce myself then.’ His eyes were twinkling as he smiled down at her, and once again her stomach did a little flip.
‘I’m down here with my wife to spend the holidays with our friends, Peter and Emma. That’s my wife over there dancing with Peter now, and our daughter is up in the nursery with Peter’s children and their nanny.’
Opal glanced in the direction he was nodding and saw that his wife was a very beautiful woman. Her hair shone silver blonde and she was tall and slender, and for no reason that she could explain, she felt a pang of envy. She felt as if every nerve in her body was tingling and was painfully aware of the warmth of his hand on hers, to the point that she was almost glad when the dance ended and he chivalrously delivered her back to her seat. No man had ever affected her that way before, and she felt guilty for being attracted to another woman’s husband.
The instant she sat back down, Henry again claimed her for the next dance, and her heart settled back into rhythm – but for the rest of the night she found her eyes straying back to Matthew Darby-Jones.
It trul
y had turned out to be the most magical evening, one that she knew she would never forget. Particularly the moments she had spent in the arms of Matthew Darby-Jones, who had asked her to dance twice more – much to Henry’s ill-concealed annoyance. Just for a time she had managed to forget about Susie and Charlie, but all good things must come to an end, and just before midnight the last dance was announced and Henry took her arm possessively before someone else stepped in.
‘May I?’
‘Of course.’
It was another waltz and as they glided about the floor, he asked her, ‘Have you enjoyed yourself, my dear?’
‘Oh yes!’ She answered without hesitation. ‘It’s been truly wonderful. I feel a little like Cinderella.’
He threw back his head and laughed. She was so innocent and unspoiled; that was what he most liked about her, and he also knew that with her on his arm he was the envy of every man there.
‘Then let us hope this will be the first of many such evenings for you.’
Suddenly shy again, she lowered her head as she thought back to what she had heard Esther saying in the powder room. Could it be true? Could Henry possibly be considering her as the next Mrs King? She hoped not, because as much as she had enjoyed the evening, all she really wanted was to see her family back together again. The thought put a slight blight on the occasion, and in the carriage on the way home Henry and his mother noticed that she was unnaturally quiet. Could they have known it, she was thinking of her family – and Matthew – although she was wise enough to say nothing. It would be some long time before she saw Charlie, and as for the handsome stranger . . . it was doubtful their paths would ever cross again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was hard to get up the next morning after the late night, but Opal rose at her usual time to serve her mistress with breakfast in bed.
‘And we have another busy day ahead of us,’ Mrs King commented, as Opal plumped her pillows and placed them behind her back, before laying the tray across her lap. ‘Oh, and Merry Christmas, Opal. I almost forgot it was Christmas Day.’
‘The same to you, ma’am.’ Opal crossed to the window and swished the curtains aside, to reveal a white world. The snow was still falling and on the lawn below a little robin was busily pecking away searching for worms, his bright-red breast a brilliant splash of colour against the snow.
‘What time will the visitors be arriving, ma’am?’
Mrs King took a sip of her mint tea. ‘Not before twelve o’clock hopefully. I have instructed Cook to have the lunch ready for one. But first we are going to attend church with Henry. He should be here within the hour, so we need to get ready.’
The Sunday morning church service was a ritual now and Opal enjoyed it, but today’s service would be extra special, and as she helped the old lady get dressed, Opal couldn’t help but think of Christmases gone by when the family had all been together. Just two Christmases ago she and Charlie had spent the festive season in the derelict little cottage in Rapper’s Hole, and the one before that had been spent with their parents and siblings! Such happy times, she thought with a pang of sadness – but they could never come again and she wondered what Susie and Charlie were doing now. Wherever they were, she prayed they were well and happy and had enough to eat.
The service was beautiful and the church looked magical nestled in the snow with the light shining through the stained-glass windows. The church pews were decorated with holly and ivy and the choirboys looked angelic in their starched white surplices as they sang much-loved carols. The many candles added to the atmosphere and the congregation was light-hearted as they left to shake hands with the vicar at the door and wish him a Merry Christmas.
When they arrived back at Mrs King’s house, they found that their visitors had already arrived. Belle had served them morning coffee in the drawing room and when Henry walked in Esther rushed over to greet him effusively, clutching a sprig of mistletoe.
‘Merry Christmas, my dear Henry,’ she gushed, as she planted a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek. Opal was amused to see that she had aimed it at his lips but he had just managed to turn his head away in time.
Looking slightly annoyed at her failed attempt, Esther greeted Mrs King while ignoring Opal, which bothered Opal not a jot.
‘I suggest we open our presents now before we go into lunch,’ Mrs King said, reaching for one of the gaily wrapped presents beneath the tree.
‘This is for you,’ she told Mrs Partridge. ‘Just a token gift, you understand?’
The woman opened the package and smiled. ‘Why, they’re lovely, thank you,’ she said admiring the lavender bath salts and scented soap.
Esther then opened hers, which proved to be exactly the same only rose-scented. Henry was next and he looked genuinely pleased as he examined a gaily coloured waistcoat, and finally Mrs King handed Opal hers.
Opal flushed with pleasure as she unwrapped the present and found a fine, deeply fringed silk shawl in a lovely pastel green colour.
‘Thank you very much, ma’am,’ she muttered, aware of Esther’s disapproving glare. ‘But the slippers were quite enough!’
Then it was Henry’s turn to hand out the gifts he had bought. There were dainty white handkerchiefs embroidered with their initials for the Partridges, and a pair of fine leather gloves for his mother. Finally, he turned to Opal and handed her hers.
She opened it carefully, sorry to have to rip the pretty paper, to reveal a long, black leather box and when she opened it she gasped as she saw a gold fine-chain bracelet with a heart charm dangling from it.
‘Oh . . . Mr King . . . thank you, it’s lovely,’ she said breathlessly.
Pleased to see her looking so happy, Henry said, ‘Here, let me fasten it on for you.’ All the time, Opal was aware of Esther’s eyes boring disapprovingly into her back.
The Partridges had also brought gifts for Henry and his mother, and these too were duly handed out and exclaimed over, by which time Belle had appeared to announce that lunch was ready to be served.
The food was excellent, although Opal didn’t really enjoy it, for Esther went out of her way to exclude her from the conversation and she was just grateful that the Partridges hadn’t been invited to stay for tea as well. They would dine on cold cuts that evening because Mrs King had given the staff the rest of the day off to have their own little Christmas party in the kitchen.
Opal was shocked at the amount of food Esther managed to eat, and at one point Henry gave her an amused wink, showing that he had noticed too. At last the meal was over and Esther suggested, ‘Why don’t we retire to the drawing room for a game of cards, Henry? I’m sure my mother and Mrs King can keep themselves entertained and I imagine Miss Sharp will have duties that need attending to.’
‘As it happens, Miss Sharp is my mother’s companion, not a household maid,’ he responded somewhat coldly. ‘But I dare say we could have a game of cards if Opal wishes to join us.’
‘I-I’m not really very good at cards,’ Opal told them, and he nodded.
‘In that case we shall all take our coffee in the drawing room.’
Opal saw the dark stain spread up Esther’s neck at what she had clearly taken as Henry’s rebuff, but by the time they had risen from their seats she was fluttering her eyelashes at him again as she rushed to take his arm. He looked slightly annoyed but led her from the room, leaving Opal to bring her employer and Mrs Partridge through to them, and for the rest of the afternoon, Opal made sure that she sat well apart to avoid any unpleasantness.
At five o’clock, Mrs Partridge glanced towards the window and said, ‘Well, it’s been quite delightful, Winifred, and compliments to your cook for the lovely meal, but I’m afraid we really should be going now. Do you think you could have our carriage brought round to the front for us, please?’
‘Of course,’ Mrs King answered graciously. ‘Henry, could you go through to the kitchen and ask Ned to see to it, dear?’ Ned was her jack of all trades about the house and garden and lived
in the rooms above the now empty stables. Until a couple of years before, Mrs King had kept her own horses and carriage but now she no longer ventured out so frequently, she had given them to Henry and relied on him to take her wherever she wished to go.
Henry looked slightly relieved as he rose to do as she asked, and he soon returned to say, ‘Ned will have it around at the front for you in ten minutes, but he said can you please be ready to leave as he doesn’t want the horses standing out in the cold. I’m afraid the snow is coming down thick and fast still.’
There followed a busy few minutes as the Partridges got into their outdoor clothes and collected their things together, and after taking their leave of Mrs King and studiously ignoring Opal yet again, Henry showed them to the door.
‘I was thinking,’ Esther said as she stroked her finger suggestively down the lapel of Henry’s jacket. ‘That you might like to come and dine with me and mother tomorrow? It must be so incredibly boring for you having to be entertained by your mother all the time.’
‘In actual fact, I enjoy my mother’s company, and Miss Sharp’s if it comes to that,’ he said coolly, as he firmly removed her hand. ‘But thank you for the invitation all the same.’
Just for a moment her face set in an angry mask, but then it was all sweetness and light again as she turned and trilled, ‘Goodbye for now then, dearest Henry.’
And he watched her as she was swallowed up by the snow, before closing the door firmly behind her.
‘Well,’ Mrs King said, ‘I’m afraid I am going to have to leave you to entertain yourselves for a while. I’m in need of a rest and a lie-down.’
‘I’ll help you up the stairs,’ Opal offered instantly as, leaning heavily on her stick, Mrs King struggled to her feet – but the old lady shook her head.
‘You’ll do no such thing. I’m quite capable of climbing the stairs myself, thank you very much. You just stay here and keep Henry company, and I’ll see you both in a couple of hours. Belle informs me they have laid food out for us in the dining room, so when we’re hungry we can help ourselves.’
The Winter Promise Page 17
