The guests looked like figures from a fairy tale, the ladies in their white dresses, the men sporting their tartan. Clover was startled by the wheeze and wail of the bagpipes and put her hands over her ears. I hate the noise they make too, though I can’t admit it to my fervently Scottish grandparents.
Clover gave a timid smile when she saw me watching her. I wondered what she was thinking. Was she wishing she could swap places with me? Was she contrasting this ostentatious display of twinkling glass and over-bright gilt with her hovel in Cripps Alley? Was she planning the picture she’d draw tomorrow? Would Papa contrive to send her to art school when she was older? Might she be a serious painter, with her work exhibited at the Academy?
‘You’re looking very earnest, Rose,’ said Paris, sitting down beside me. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘I’m just daydreaming about Clover. She’s really talented, isn’t she?’ I said.
‘Yes, she is. Much better than I was at her age,’ he agreed. ‘My, this is an amazing room, isn’t it?’
‘I used to be dazzled by it, but now I find it too ornate and bright. I wish Grandmama would commission you to redecorate it. I know you’d make it much more simple and elegant,’ I said, remembering the rooms he’d designed at the Palace Hotel.
‘I don’t think my decorative style would please your grandmama at all. She certainly doesn’t care for my personal style,’ said Paris, smiling ruefully.
He was the only man in the room not wearing the kilt. He wore his smartest suit, which wasn’t very smart at all. It was well cut, the cloth good, but it was terribly worn at the cuffs. His white shirt was clean but crumpled, and he wore a crimson knotted scarf instead of a tie.
‘I rather think she’d prefer it if I didn’t appear on the dance floor – but would you be my partner if we lurked in a distant corner?’ Paris asked.
‘I would love to dance with you,’ I said.
‘You will have to teach me the steps.’
‘I’m not sure of them myself. I’m pretty hopeless at dancing,’ I admitted.
‘That’s very comforting. We’ll encourage each other. Come on, let’s have a go,’ said Paris, offering me his arm.
I hoped he wouldn’t feel me trembling. I’d never danced with anyone who wasn’t a relation. I generally danced with Rupert, though Papa occasionally took me up for a reel. I’d danced with Sebastian, who was a surprisingly good dancer. But I’d never danced with a strange man – though of course Paris wasn’t strange at all.
I didn’t dare look in Mama’s direction.
The floor was very crowded and we had to struggle round the edge. The Lord Provost and his wife lacked one couple for their set. Perhaps people were too overawed to join them. The wife beckoned to Paris, clearly not minding his bohemian dress.
‘You’re very kind, madam, but I’m afraid neither Rose nor I are accomplished dancers. We are going to caper by ourselves in a corner,’ he said, bowing to her.
She gave a squeaky giggle of regret, her nose very pink.
‘Who was that eager lady with the hairy husband?’ Paris murmured when we were out of earshot.
‘They’re the Lord and Lady Provost. They’re very grand. Grandmama is thrilled that they’re attending,’ I explained.
‘Goodness,’ he said, pretending to be impressed. He looked around the crowded room. ‘Do you know all these people, Rose?’
‘Hardly any of them. They’re not just from Dundee – there’s a whole contingent from Perth, and Lord Mackay from Forfar has a large party from London staying with him. Grandmama’s so excited to have real lords and ladies at her ball!’
‘And one dissolute impoverished artist,’ Paris said.
‘I think you’re a very distinguished guest,’ I said. ‘Wait till you’ve had a painting hung in the Academy. Mama is right, people will flock to your side. I remember what it was like when Papa did his famous portrait of the Honourable Louisa Mayhorne.’
‘So you think people will be agog to see my portrait of the very worthy Jeannie Rivers?’ Paris asked, eyebrows raised.
I felt a delicious thrill when he mocked Mama – yet I was also uncomfortable, because she was still my mother. I was free to mock her, but somehow it didn’t feel right when Paris did.
‘Perhaps,’ I said. ‘Right, we’ve reached the corner. Let’s dance!’
I showed him the steps, pointing my feet alternately, and then we whirled around, doing our own independent reel. The floor was so crowded that no one could see us. Paris proved to be a good dancer – better than Papa, who often started with the wrong foot or set off in the wrong direction. It wasn’t quite like dancing with Rupert either.
I craned my neck to see if he was dancing. Yes, with a real beauty, an older girl with flaming red hair and a green tartan sash, the most striking young woman in the whole room. Trust Rupert! She looked a little like Hetty the foundling girl, though much better fed.
Paris saw me staring at her. ‘My word, Rupert’s very bold! She seems charmed by him too. Is he really only thirteen?’
‘Well, he’s my twin, so of course he is,’ I said. ‘Though I know I look much younger.’
‘You seem older than your age in many ways, Rose,’ said Paris.
‘But I don’t look it, do I? It’s so unfair. I agree, Rupert looks years older than me.’
‘I think you look perfect just the way you are. I really do want to paint your portrait. Perhaps it will be your portrait that will set those crowds flocking!’
‘They will flock to mock!’ I said. It was difficult to talk and dance at the same time, so I stopped and leaned against the wall, and Paris did too. We were continuing our companionable chat when Mama suddenly came bursting through the dancers.
‘There you are! Rose, what are you thinking of, skulking in a corner with Mr Walker,’ she demanded.
‘She’s been teaching me to dance, Mrs Rivers. We’ve had to find a discreet corner so that I don’t feel a laughing stock,’ he said.
‘Rose shouldn’t keep demanding your attention! It’s very naughty of her. You must come and mingle, dear boy. This is your opportunity to make the right contacts. I will introduce you to lots of wealthy, influential people. Apparently there are titled folk from London here too. My father hunts with Lord Mackay, so it shouldn’t be too hard to gain an introduction,’ Mama burbled.
She took Paris’s arm and started steering him away. He looked over his shoulder at me, pulling a comical face. I followed in their wake, realizing that my sash had twisted and my hair ribbon had come undone.
Grandmama seized hold of me this time.
‘Really, Rose, do tidy yourself up! Your mama is insisting on meeting Lord Mackay and his party, and you will have to be introduced too. Rupert is already a big hit with one of the London lassies, bless him.’ She nodded at the flame-haired girl, who was dancing in a very lively manner. Her sash had stayed in place and her flying curls still looked decorative.
‘Don’t scowl like that, Rose!’ Grandmama said sharply.
Grandpapa was talking to Lord Mackay, who started introducing Mama and Paris to his house party.
‘May I introduce Lord and Lady Marchpane,’ he said, presenting the most senior couple. Lord Marchpane was pale yellow, and damp from energetic dancing. I had to wipe my hand on my dress after I’d shaken his hand. Lady Marchpane was thin and white and brittle as chalk, looking as if she might snap at any moment. Then there was another older couple, Sir Edmund and Lady Fanshawe. Sir Edmund made a great to-do of repeating his name, with the emphasis on the Sir. Perhaps he was newly knighted. They were clearly very rich because red-cheeked Lady Fanshawe was glittering with diamonds: earrings, bracelets on both wrists, a necklace and a huge diamond ring. They made Mama’s sapphires look very insignificant.
The last gentleman from London was Scottish, but he was presently living in Lord Mackay’s townhouse near Regent’s Park. He was a lord too – Lord Hirst, Lord Mackay’s nephew by marriage. He was fair and square-chinned and broad-shouldered,
very bluff, very bland.
‘And you must meet my new wife – where has she got to? Ah yes, talking to those gentlemen over there! Louisa, my love, come and be introduced,’ he called.
She was beautiful, tall and fair, with a pale porcelain complexion and very white shoulders that contrasted wonderfully with her black velvet dress. She was one of the few women not wearing white. Perhaps she was deliberately drawing attention to herself. She held her head high, though she seemed a little perturbed when she saw us.
She seemed so familiar. I knew that complexion, that pearly skin, that bold stance. She was the Honourable Louisa Mayhorne, Papa’s muse!
Of course Mama knew her too. She gasped and took a step backwards.
‘Jeannie! What on earth is the matter? Aren’t you well?’ Grandmama hissed. ‘This is Lady Hirst.’
‘I know who she is. I know who she was. I know what she was,’ said Mama.
She looked round and saw Papa standing behind her, his face ashen, obviously taken completely by surprise. He swallowed, clenched his fists and swayed. I couldn’t bear to see his expression of helpless longing.
Lady Hirst stared back, faintly flushing, her head high, smiling.
Mama’s eyes brimmed with tears. She wrenched herself away from Grandmama. ‘How could you invite her?’ she said, and then she ran out of the room, pushing her way blindly through the crowd.
I don’t know if Grandmama understood what was wrong or not, but she stayed in steely control.
‘Please excuse my daughter. She hasn’t been very well since her last confinement. Now, I do believe the band is tuning up for the Dashing White Sergeant. My husband refuses to join in the dancing, so I hope you will be my dashing white partner, Lord Mackay,’ she said smoothly, offering her hand.
He bowed and led her onto the dance floor, to be joined by the Marchpanes, the Fanshawes and Lord and Lady Hirst. They started dancing, Lady Hirst mesmerizing in her dark velvet. Papa stood in the shadows, watching her.
‘Good Lord,’ Paris murmured. ‘She’s the woman in his portrait. That Louisa.’
‘I don’t suppose Grandmama realized. She would only have been given her married name. Oh, heavens, do you think everyone knows?’ I whispered.
‘They will if Edward keeps gawping at her like a moonstruck calf,’ said Paris. ‘Excuse me, Rose.’
He went over to Papa, murmured something in his ear, and then led him firmly away. I was left standing by myself. I looked around for Rupert, but he was dancing with the Lord Provost’s daughter. She had clearly been wished upon him by her mother. He didn’t look too pleased.
I didn’t know what to do – whether to stay there or join one of the groups of ladies at the edge of the ballroom.
‘Would you care to dance, Rose?’ It was Grandpapa, bowing stiffly to me!
‘But you don’t dance, Grandpapa,’ I said.
‘That didn’t deter your mother’s young artist friend. You seemed to give him adequate instruction. I shall try too,’ he said gallantly.
Poor Grandpapa truly couldn’t dance. He shuffled around hopelessly, going left instead of right, and twirling me round at the wrong moment. We were both very relieved when the dance came to an end. He offered me a sherbet cup and we sat together at a gilt table, trying to make conversation. We were both surreptitiously watching the doorway.
Mama didn’t come back. Papa didn’t either. Eventually Paris returned, and I stood up and waved to show him where I was.
‘Sit down, Rose,’ Grandpapa said quietly. ‘I think perhaps your brother might be a more suitable partner this time.’
He shook his head as Paris made his way towards us. Paris saw – and veered off in the other direction. At the end of the next dance Grandpapa beckoned to Rupert. He came over eagerly enough, and we stood up together for the Gay Gordons.
‘Did you see me dancing with that poor girl with the teeth? But what about my first partner! What a beauty—’ Rupert started.
‘Do shut up, Rupert. Didn’t you see what happened? The Honourable Louisa Mayhorne is here, you know, Papa’s so-called muse – only she’s Lady Hirst now. See the woman over there in the black gown?’
‘Oh my Lord, she’s still a stunner! No wonder Papa was besotted with her,’ Rupert breathed.
‘What is she doing, coming here so brazenly?’ I said.
‘Maybe she didn’t know about the family connection? Or maybe she did, and wanted to come and flaunt her rich young husband in front of Papa,’ said Rupert. ‘Shall I take her up on the dance floor and ask her? Do you dare me?’
‘No!’
‘I will anyway,’ he went on. ‘Just wait till the Gay Gordons is finished!’
Rupert didn’t really have the nerve to approach Lady Hirst. We sat with Grandpapa, and when Grandmama joined us, breathless after two dances with Lord Mackay, she was very firm.
‘I think you had better retire now, my dears,’ she said.
‘But, Grandmama, you promised we could stay up until twelve!’ Rupert protested.
‘I did indeed, but perhaps you are both a little too young. I can’t keep an eye on you all evening because I am the hostess and have to make sure all my guests are entertained. As both your parents have disappeared, you have no one to chaperone you. Off you go. Please don’t make a fuss. I do not want our family to draw any more attention to themselves,’ she said stiffly.
I looked at Grandpapa pleadingly, but he was nodding in agreement. Rupert and I were sent to bed like naughty children. When I got to the door I looked round – and saw Paris leading the girl with the flaming hair out onto the floor.
I DID MY best not to cry as we went up the stairs.
‘Oh dear, poor Rose,’ said Rupert.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said shakily.
‘You were hoping to dance with Mr Walker again,’ said Rupert. ‘And now he’s dancing with Miss Imogen Wentworth.’
‘Who?’
‘Miss Wentworth, the gorgeous redhead. I danced with her first.’
‘Yes, and you looked ridiculous, a boy partnering a grown-up lady,’ I snapped.
‘She’s not grown up, she’s still studying,’ said Rupert.
‘She’s never still a schoolgirl!’
‘She’s actually at a women’s college at university,’ said Rupert. ‘You’d never credit it, would you? She doesn’t look the swotty type, but she must be a brainbox.’
‘I didn’t think women could go to university,’ I said.
‘Well, she does. She’s one of these new independent women. I think she’s marvellous. She was jolly nice to me too.’
‘She was simply being kind. She’s probably laughing at you with all her friends.’
‘Stop being so spiteful, Rose, just because you’re upset that Mr Walker can’t resist her either,’ said Rupert.
‘I don’t give a fig about Mr Walker,’ I said haughtily, praying I wouldn’t burst into tears.
Rupert started mocking me, but broke off when we got to the top of the stairs. We could hear shouting and crying – two people in the midst of an almighty row.
Our parents.
‘Oh Lord,’ said Rupert, and he took my hand.
We stood there listening. They were in their room and their voices were muffled, but we could still make out what they were saying. It was dreadful.
‘They’ll wake the children if they carry on like this,’ I whispered.
‘I dare say the servants are all earwigging too,’ said Rupert.
‘I hate it. Why does it all have to be so horrible? Do you think all marriages are like this?’ I asked, crying. ‘I’m never going to marry. You’ll probably get married several times!’
‘When you’re a lonely old spinster, and I’ve left my third wife and am too fat and bald to find another, then we’ll set up home together, you and I,’ said Rupert, and he gave me a hug as we said goodnight.
I was a little comforted, but even from the amber room I could still hear Mama’s hysterical crying. Mercifully Beth was
deeply asleep and snoring, though Nurse Budd was ominously silent behind the yellow damask curtains.
I took off my things and climbed into the trundle bed.
‘Is your mama unwell, Miss Rose?’ Nurse Budd whispered into the darkness. ‘Do you think I should go and see if I can help?’
‘She’s perfectly well,’ I said ridiculously, and then buried my head under the covers.
I couldn’t cry properly because I didn’t want Nurse Budd to hear me. I lay there burning, thinking of Mama and Papa and Louisa and Paris and Miss Wentworth. They whirled around me in a grotesque Scottish reel. Suddenly I heard bangs like gunshots and sat up, terrified – but then, through the chink in the curtains, I saw flashes of light and realized that it was fireworks to celebrate the start of the new year.
When I woke in the morning, it was hard to believe it had all happened. Perhaps it had been a bizarre nightmare. Had the Honourable Louisa Mayhorne really been at the ball? Surely Mama couldn’t have rushed out of the room in tears, with everyone staring! I knew I’d danced with Paris – but had he then asked that red-haired Miss Wentworth up onto the floor?
I heard Nurse Budd and Beth stirring, then getting up. I lay there, pretending to be asleep. I didn’t want Nurse Budd asking any more questions about Mama. Beth started whimpering and I peeped out at her. She was clinging to Nurse Budd, who was getting dressed underneath her nightgown.
‘For pity’s sake, wait a minute,’ Nurse Budd told her.
Beth became more insistent, grabbing handfuls of nightgown.
‘You’ll have me over! Stop it! If you’re not a good girl, you won’t get it!’
Beth carried on making desperate little noises until Nurse Budd emerged from her calico tent.
‘All right, all right, give me a minute,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you dressed first.’
At this, Beth started howling.
‘Stop that! You’ll wake everyone up and they’ll all have thick heads after last night’s shenanigans. Here now.’ Nurse Budd went over to the washstand, opened her leather case and brought out the bottle of Godfrey’s Cordial. She gave Beth several spoonfuls. Beth went on licking the spoon even when it was clean.
Rose Rivers Page 29
