Her Saving Grace

by Catherine Winchester

  “I didn’t mean me,” she laughed easily. “I was thinking more of Miss Stephens actually. It’s clear for everyone to see that she has set her hat to you, rather than Nate.”

  “Then she is a fool,” Matthew answered easily. “Everyone knows that I have little to offer a wife.”

  They also knew that he held her in very high regard too, but was wrestling with his conscience as to whether he could marry a young lady when he had no title, estate or profession.

  “Hush now,” their mother, Lady Isabelle Copley, chided gently. “We can discuss your money, or lack thereof, later. For now, I want to dance.”

  She easily dismissed his qualms because she knew that although Matthew wasn’t rich, he wasn’t poor either, and Nathaniel had offered his brother any additional funds he may need to begin a business. Now all Matthew had to do was decide on a trade, and come to terms with the fact that trade was distasteful to many of their class.

  While the ladies were in the cloakroom, handing in their coats, collecting their dance cards and gossiping, the gentlemen waited for them in the lobby and Nathaniel took the opportunity to look around. They were a little late thanks to Annabelle’s indecisiveness, and he wondered if Damaris was already here. Many people were still arriving and the dancing hadn’t begun yet, so he knew that they weren’t too late. After almost ten minutes, Isabelle returned.

  “Annabelle met your Miss Stephens,” she informed Matthew. “She is currently telling her of your many failings, but I expect they will be out soon.”

  Although she was teasing, Matthew’s worried expression showed everyone the high regard with which he held Miss Stephens. Smiling at how smitten he clearly was, they left him there as they entered the ballroom.

  “It seems that your brother might well marry before you; don’t you think it’s time you took a wife also?” Isabelle pestered

  “I see no need as long as you are alive to keep house for me.” Unlike his brother, Nathaniel saw her teasing for what it was.

  “I won’t be around forever,” she reminded him. “However shall you manage without a wife?”

  Recently he had begun to feel as if her jibes weren’t perhaps as good natured as they used to be.

  “I shall chain Annabelle to your desk so that she will deal with the household-”

  Isabelle rolled her eyes, believing that he had finished his sentence but he hadn’t; he had seen Lady Wellesley and was quite too captivated to speak for a few moments.

  It took her a while to notice but when she saw that her son was no longer listening to her but staring across the room, she followed his gaze.

  “Well I must say, you’re setting your sights very high.”

  He didn’t appear to have heard her.

  “Still, any woman who would refuse you is a fool, so I have little doubt that you will get what you want.”

  “I’m sorry?” he shook his stupor off and looked at her.

  “I was just saying that we should get ourselves a glass of punch before the dancing begins.”

  “Indeed.” He led her towards the refreshments table, although he was unable to stop his gaze from returning to Damaris.

  Her dark hair was curled and piled attractively atop her head, with one long strand left loose at the back and positioned over one shoulder. The beads on the robe of her gown sparkled in the candlelight, adding even more beauty to an image that he did not think could be improved.

  Once watered, he left his mother in the care of Colonel Nanton and made his way closer to Damaris. He felt rather like a lion stalking his prey, only he hoped for a much better outcome than the lion’s prey was used to.

  The first dance was called but despite all the young ladies making eyes at him, he didn’t ask them to dance; he rarely danced the first set because the floor was usually so crowded. After a dance or two, some of the participants would need a rest, and moving about the floor would be far easier.

  Damaris was in demand from the first set however and he watched her with interest. She glanced at him a few times but seemed so uncertain of herself, that she was too preoccupied to pay him much mind. He realised that she probably hadn’t danced in a long while but these dances were taught from infancy, therefore not something that was easy to forget.

  Even after a few repetitions of the dances however, Damaris wasn’t much improved, seeming as uncertain at the end as at the beginning. She performed the steps mostly correctly, or at least well enough to end up in the correct position, but she lacked the usual grace and elegance of a dancer and when the music finally finished and she curtseyed to her partner, he thought that he detected relief on her features.

  For some unknown reason, he found her hesitancy and timidity appealing. Normally he liked women who danced very well, since it was a pastime that he also enjoyed but in Damaris, the reverse seemed to be true.

  Watching her seemed to stir a memory from when he returned home in his final year at university; he recalled a young girl at the dances, with jet black hair and very little rhythm. She had been perhaps sixteen or seventeen and exceptionally pretty but of little interest to him. He always brought some of his university friends home with him, and they were far more interested in drinking and having fun, than in shy and virginal debutantes.

  He regretted that now and wondered if it was an oversight that he could correct.

  After three dances in relatively quick succession, there was a small break and her partner delivered Damaris back to her companion, Mrs Paddington. Immediately, her composed mask fell and as she whispered feverishly to the older woman, she looked irritated.

  Having had enough of observing her, he made his way over.

  “Lady Wellesley.” He bowed.

  “Lord Copley,” she answered, bestowing upon him the smallest bob of a curtsey that he had ever received. “Might I introduce to you my companion, Mrs Paddington?”

  “Very pleased to meet you.” He bowed to the woman but quickly turned back to Damaris. “Might I have this next dance, if you are free, of course?”

  “I… am not engaged for it at present.” She seemed indecisive as she answered, and still rather irritated.

  “But you would rather dance with someone else,” he guessed.

  “I would rather not dance at all,” she answered simply.

  “Yes,” he smiled. “While I have heard an awful lot about your talents, no one has spoken of your talent as a dancer, and now I can see why.”

  She looked to be on the verge of snapping at him but finally she settled for a long sigh and lowered her gaze.

  “I’m afraid dancing was never something that I had much affinity for.”

  Her honesty surprised him and her dejected countenance made him feel awful for having insulted her. He much preferred it when she was insulting him and sought a way to cheer her again.

  “I would like to speak to you about your father, so I wonder if I might persuade you to take a turn about the room with me, in lieu of dancing?”

  She appeared indecisive once again but not as irritated this time.

  “Very well.”

  He offered her his arm and as the musicians struck up the first few bars of the next song, they began their walk around the ballroom.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked as they walked.

  “I’m very well, thank you.”

  “Are you not upset at the discovery of your father?”

  “Certainly, but I am more interested in finding out what happened to him, than shedding tears.”

  “Of course.” He glanced at her and saw that her serene expression was once more fixed on her face, although she wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze as they walked. “Forgive me, Lady Wellesley, but I can’t help but notice that you are avoiding the eye of every gentleman in here; if you don’t like dancing, why did you attend a ball?”

  “These people were the last to see my father, they might know something that can help me.”

  “Even if they do, they are hardly likely to tell you during a dance.”


  “Perhaps but any small detail might help.” Her tone brooked no argument.

  “I’ve made some progress,” he explained.

  “Oh?” She could hardly have sounded more disinterested if she had tried.

  “Yes. I met with Marissa yesterday and she gave me some of your father’s papers.”

  Damaris stopped walking and wrenched her hand off his arm as she turned to face him. “His papers!”

  Any attempt at civility was long gone.

  “Yes. She gave me a letter for you, to explain why she kept them secret but I didn’t think to bring it. Would you like me to bring it to you tomorrow?”

  Anger warred with betrayal and curiosity on her features; she would be a terrible poker player.

  Rather than answering, she resumed their course around the dance floor, her hands clasped firmly behind her back. He fell into step beside her.

  “Keep it,” she told him. “I have no need for excuses.”

  He could understand her anger to a degree; she had looked after Marissa while searching for answers, and the woman had kept secrets from her. He too would be angry, although he couldn’t argue with Marissa’s reasoning.

  “I suppose Constable Smyth has them now,” she said with a trace of bitterness in her voice.

  “I still have them actually. I thought it probably best to allow Smyth to get on with his regular duties, while I investigate your father’s murder.”

  The withering stare she gave him, said that she hardly thought he was any better.

  The current dance came to an end and he saw Mrs Small heading towards them with her son in tow.

  “I think another fortune hunting mother is on her way to foist her progeny on you,” he said, trying to tease her into a better mood.

  She muttered something under her breath, so low that he couldn’t hear her words but he had the feeling that it wasn’t very ladylike.

  “Thank you for the stroll, Lady Wellesley.” He bowed to her, then to Mrs and Mr Small, before taking his leave.

  Now that the dancers had thinned out, he took a turn with his mother and two married ladies of his acquaintance. He was approached quite a few times by fortune hunting parents, with their daughters in tow but unwilling to give hope where there was none, the only single ladies he danced with were his sister’s friends.

  When the third break of the evening was called, he noticed Damaris approaching her friend, Mrs Elizabeth Franklin. They were quickly joined by Mr Franklin, who Nathaniel knew socially, so he approached them.

  “Franklin, it’s good to see you again.”

  “And you, Copley. You know my wife, of course, and this is Lady Wellesley.”

  “Yes, we’ve met,” he said, bowing to the ladies, before turning back to Franklin. “I understand that you have recently purchased some new ploughing equipment?”

  “I have indeed,” he smiled. “We’re updating all the equipment, trying to streamline things.”

  “Good idea. My steward has been on at me to update our methods; father was very opposed to change, apparently.”

  “Oh, you should definitely look into it.”

  As they spoke, breaking away from the ladies slightly, Elizabeth and Damaris had their own hushed conversation, the former seeming to try and reason with her friend, while the latter glared at him, when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  “I’ll sort something out with my steward,” Franklin said. “He knows far more about the techniques than I do and could explain them better.”

  “That would be very helpful, thank you.”

  The quartet of musicians resumed their seats and Franklin looked towards Damaris.

  “I believe this is my dance,” he smiled at her.

  Her returning smile was warm and even a little grateful. He wished that she would bestow such a sincere smile upon him.

  Suddenly an impish thought occurred to him and he turned to Elizabeth.

  “Are you engaged for the next set, Mrs Franklin?” Married women were rarely asked to dance very much.

  “No.” She smiled warmly at him.

  “Then may I request this dance?” He offered her his arm and she accepted without hesitation.

  If he remembered correctly, the next dance was a four couple, square cotillion, so it made sense for them to pair up with Franklin and Damaris. As was usual in this dance, he would dance with the woman opposite him as well as his partner, and Franklin would dance with his wife as well as Damaris.

  They took their positions and after honouring each other, Franklin took his wife’s hand and they circled around each other, returning to their starting position. Nathaniel then took Damaris’ and they circled around each other. He couldn’t help watching her as they danced but she tried to keep her gaze averted. The moment he did catch her eye though, she seemed unable to break the contact, even as he let go of her hand and stepped back into position.

  They stood still for a moment as the other two couples in the square danced, and he felt quite captivated by her eyes; none of the glass beads on her fine gown shone quite as well as her blue eyes did.

  They joined hands with those beside them to form a ring and did one rotation, the men then turned to their left and the women to their right, they then joined hands for half a turn, making their way in opposite directions around the circle. Still he couldn’t look away from her and as he took her hand to dance a half turn, she had a most unusual expression on her face, which if he didn’t know her so well, he might almost call vulnerable.

  They repeated the dance three times over before the music ended, and Nathaniel was very sorry when it did. Finally looking to his partner for almost the first time since the dance began, he escorted her to the side of the room again.

  “Thank you, Mrs Franklin.”

  “No, thank you, Lord Copley and remember,” she glanced around furtively then lowered her voice. “Her bark is always worse than her bite.”

  She gave him a knowing smile and turned to her husband as he approached.

  Feeling that he may have pressed his luck enough for one evening, Nathaniel bowed and then took his leave.

  ***

  Damaris had been out of sorts ever since she learned that Nathaniel had documents from Marissa, which the other woman had kept secret from her.

  It showed such disloyalty that it hurt her to even think about it, so she did her best to forget about it completely while at the dance, and skip over Marissa’s betrayal once she was home. She was only moderately successful at both but thankfully, Lilly didn’t appear to notice.

  “Did you find anything out?” Lilly asked as the carriage took them home.

  “Mr Evans saw my father that afternoon; his house is on the edge of town, so it appears that he left and was waylaid between here and his London club. There are a few estates on the London road, so I’ll visit them tomorrow and see if perhaps the staff noticed him riding past. It’s unlikely but worth checking.”

  “And did you enjoy yourself at all?”

  Damaris shot her a look. “You know I have never taken much enjoyment in dancing.”

  “You seemed to dance well with Mr Franklin.”

  The smile on the other woman’s face, showed that she had noticed her apparent fascination with Lord Copley. And it was more like feeling trapped by his gaze than any interest on her part.

  “He was a good partner,” she answered, unwilling to go into details of her interactions with Nathaniel.

  Truth be told, she didn’t even understand her feelings while in his company; he made her feel nervous and almost frightened, although not exactly the same as fright. She knew that her senses were on high alert in his presence but she didn’t fear him, so she couldn’t understand why she was nervous or cautious around him.

  Thoughts of that nature could wait however.

  “Would you make me some tea when we get back,” Damaris asked. “I feel as if I am in need of a good night’s sleep.”

  The tea that Lilly made at night time had special herbs in it to help her sle
ep, as well as a few drops of laudanum.

  “Of course dear.” Lily smiled.

  Damaris undressed herself as Lilly made the tea and was sitting by her dressing table, brushing her hair out when Lilly brought her the cup, which she placed in front of her charge.

  “Will there be anything else tonight?”

  “No, thank you, Lilly.”

  Lilly turned and left and once she had finished her 100 strokes, Damaris opened the window in her dressing room and poured the contents of the cup out, gingerly closing it again so as not to make any noise.

  She then placed the cup and saucer on the table near her fire, so it appeared that she had sat there for a time, and climbed into bed. As expected, she heard her bedroom door open perhaps fifteen minutes later and Lilly came to stand by the bed.

  “Sleep well, Mari,” she whispered, then Damaris heard her collect the cup and saucer on her way out.

  Damaris stayed where she was for a further half an hour, then when the house was completely silent, she carefully dressed herself in the men’s clothing she kept. She wound her hair up and forced a flat cap over it to keep it in place, collected her tools, then pulled a black cloak over her attire.

  She made her way down the back staircase and out into the stables at the rear of the house. As well as the carriage horses she had brought with her, the Higgins’ also kept an old nag which Mr Higgins rode when he had duties about town, or used to pull a cart on occasion. Sadly the horse wasn’t fast but he was reliable, and Damaris quickly saddled him, apologising for the late hour, then she led him out into the street before mounting, spreading the cloak out behind her as she settled in the saddle.

  She squeezed her legs together and urged the horse forward, although a trot appeared to be his top speed. She was glad that she wasn’t riding side saddle, as a rising trot was far more comfortable than a sitting one.

  When she got to the Copley estate, she pulled out her fob watch to check the time; it was gone one o’clock in the morning, so the entire house should be asleep. She urged the horse through the estate, keeping to the treeline so as not to be too visible and when she got close to the house, she dismounted, led the nag into the trees and tied the reins to a tree branch.