"Miss Perceval, I hope there are no unfortunate consequences to this scheme of Robert's. I wish you to promise that if you have any doubts about it—at any time—you will confide them to me. Though I am delighted to have your company, I am not at all sure that We are doing the right thing."
"I hope you don't think the worse of me for agreeing?"
"Not at all. I consider you a brave woman."
"Brave? In what way?"
"Robert can be very charming when he chooses—''
"Not to me, Lady Martindale. Pray have no anxiety on that score. I am in no danger from your nephew. I... I daresay you have heard what a fool I made of myself six years ago?"
"Something of it, yes. But it was a very long time ago. You were a mere child."
"Perhaps. But the experience was enough to convince me that marriage was not for me."
"I... I hope Robert was not the sole cause of such a harsh decision, Miss Perceval?"
"No. I don't even blame him—not now—for my disillusionment. I was a child and I misunderstood his intentions. I... I thought he was in love with me. But he was merely being a good friend to my brother."
"My dear!"
"The shock caused me to... to behave very.. .very badly. It took six years to get over it." Hester smiled wrily. "I am most unlikely to make the same mistake again, I assure you."
Lady Martindale looked at her closely and seemed satisfied with what she saw. She smiled brilliantly. "Then let us enjoy ourselves with a clear conscience, Hester! Do say I may call you Hester!"
"I should like you to. But what do you mean "enjoy ourselves'? I am here to work."
"My dear Hester, do but consider for a moment! You and Robert will of course continue to work as before—probably even harder. But in the evening we shall all be on public show. I am willing to wager that you will be more of a success than ever.
But Robert? Will he enjoy playing the part of a rejected suitor? Such a role has so far been outside his experience! I wonder how he will cope?"
Hester smiled slowly at the picture conjured up by Lady Martindale's words. Then she said, "Do you know, Lady Martindale, I think I am about to enjoy the social life of London for the first time in my life."
Her hostess burst into laughter. "Cruel, cruel girl!"
For a day or two there was a lull in London's festivities. Hester had a chance to settle into her new circumstances, including Robert Dungarran's constant presence. They worked harder than ever on the transcriptions, but the last few documents seemed to be more difficult than all the rest put together. The work which had been going so well suddenly came to a halt.
Halfway through one morning Hester threw her pen down, for once not minding that she spattered ink liberally over her apron front. "I give up! I've tried everything I can think of. I thought I knew that Frenchman's mind, but this time he's been simply too clever for me! What the devil can he have used as a base?" She put her elbows on the table, rested her head on her hands, and gazed down in frustration at her scribbled efforts.
Dungarran leaned back in his chair with a sigh and stretched his long legs out before him. "I haven't had any success, either! Damn the man! I've wasted half the morning on a single page."
Lady Martindale looked at the two despondent backs. "My dear children, you are both stale! You have been cooped up for far too long in this tiny room with nothing but the scratching of pens to entertain you! Give yourselves a rest from the puzzle and it may all become clear. Take Hester for a drive, Robert. It's time you were seen together in public."
"As usual, you are right, Godmama. Come along, Euclid! Let's give our poor brains some fresh air. We'll have a drive round the park." Hester got up without taking her eyes from her papers.
"Hester, dear," said Lady Martindale patiently. "Remove your apron, take off those hideous glasses and wipe your face, before you go. Otherwise the world will never believe our myth."
"Myth?'' asked Hester vaguely.
"The myth that I'm in love with you," said Robert Dungarran, gently removing Hester's glasses. "But I don't know that I agree with you, Godmama. There's something highly appealing about a suitably placed ink spot." His finger touched Hester's nose. "It draws attention to the purity of line..."
Hester, still abstracted, spoke much as she would have addressed Lowell. "And I suppose you will say that this apron adds to my beauty?"
"It suits you."
She looked up, startled. Then seeing his teasing smile, she pulled herself together. "Thank you," she said ironically. "Well at least I know my place—a kitchenmaid! No, don't say another word—I shall clean myself up, then put on my hat and gloves. Though I doubt it will make an atom of difference to London's view of our relationship."
When Hester had disappeared, Lady Martindale said, "Did you mean it?" '
"Mean what?"
"About the apron."
"Well, I half meant it. I was teasing her. But yes, it does suit her."
"It's the colour, of course. She always wears such insipid garments. As I said once before, her dresses are completely unmemorable, part of her desire to be invisible. But...if we are to convince society that she has attracted you..." Lady Martindale fell silent for a moment. Then she said suddenly, "Robert, I will try to persuade Hester that she needs a new evening dress for the ball at Harmond House! You must help me."
"How the devil do you think I could help? I can't imagine that Miss Perceval would be swayed by any recommendation of mine!"
"You must! But no more—here she comes! Hester! That's better. My dear, we've just been talking about the Duchess of Harmond's ball. It will be a splendid affair, and Robert has agreed to escort us both. It is a perfect opportunity to demonstrate his interest in you. How would it be if you had a new dress for the occasion?"
Hester said reluctantly, "Mama insisted I needed one, but I already have so many..."
"This ball is worthy of another one," said Lady Martindale firmly. "And I know just the dressmaker you need—we shall pay her a visit this afternoon. I saw a bolt of absolutely lovely silk when I was last there—a dark azure blue peau-de-soie, just a shade deeper than the colour of your apron. It would be ideal."
"Oh no! Thank you, but no! I always wear pale colours. Such a blue would be far too striking."
"We could tone it down with an underdress of white, perhaps. Don't disappoint me, Hester dear. That blue suits you so well," said Lady Martindale.
"So you have said, but I think not..." Hester's tone demonstrated her reluctance to offend Lady Martindale, but it was quite firm.
"Robert, can't you add your persuasion?"
"I would...if I thought it necessary," he drawled. "Miss Perceval is right. She has somewhat insip...er...delicate colouring, and surely strong colours are better suited to...more dashing personalities?" Robert Dungarran noted with secret amusement that Hester's "delicate colour' was rising in her cheeks. He went on, "She is very wise to choose colours which suit her retiring nature. Besides which, unlike most of her sex, she is more interested in matters of the mind. Clothes which flatter, and the pursuit of beauty are beneath her. Fortunately."
"Robert!"
"...Fortunately, I was about to say, for those of us who need her other skills." He smiled charmingly at Hester, observing with pleasure that the colour was now high in her cheeks and that her fists were clenched inside her white gloves. He continued, "But why are we wasting time on a topic which holds so little interest for Miss Perceval, Godmama? I'll wager that she believes clothes are meant to conceal our faults, not enhance our advantages."
"I take it you mean the tailors' use of padding in the shoulders and stiffening in the jackets, sir?" Hester snapped, casting a glitteringly critical eye over Dungarran's excellent figure, his dark green coat immaculately smooth over broad shoulders and narrow hips. "They certainly achieve marvels."
Dungarran burst into laughter. "Come, Miss Perceval! Enough sparring! We shall take some air. All this talk of dresses has wasted time which we can ill spare—espec
ially if my aunt is taking you off to the dressmaker this afternoon. We still have to fathom the work of that ill-begotten son of a Frenchwoman."
Nothing more was said, though Hester was noticeably silent on their drive. After their return Lady Martindale sought out her nephew in private and expressed strong disappointment in him.
"I cannot imagine what possessed you, Robert! You were unkind to Hester—and unfair! Her colouring is not at all insipid! And now she will insist on choosing yet another nondescript off-grey sort of colour, and the world will wonder what on earth you see in her! It's too bad of you!"
"Will you take a wager on the off-grey, dearest Godmama?"
Lady Martindale refused the wager, which was as well, for she would have lost it. On seeing the azure silk Hester said she had changed her mind, and declared it to be the very thing she was looking for. Madame Felice had received them graciously, for Lady Martindale had been one of her earliest patrons, but after a minute during which they discussed details of style, she apologised and asked if she might leave them in the competent hands of her assistant. She then withdrew. Hester was unmoved by this, but Lady Martindale was surprised, and said so.
"I expect she has large numbers of orders for the Harmond ball," said Hester. "And it's not as if I am likely to be a regular client. I really don't mind in the slightest. Compared with the seamstress at Abbot Quincey, any London dressmaker is a genius!"
It certainly seemed that Madame Felice's assistant was one. On the night of the ball Lady Martindale dressed early, and then sent Regine, her maid, along to Hester's room to add, she said, the final touches. Hester's own maid was young and inexperienced and very much in awe of Regine, who had come from France before the Revolution. She looked on while Regine dressed Hester's hair, and watched in admiration as the constricting bands of hair were undone, brushed vigorously, twisted and knotted by skilful fingers, and the whole finished off with a rope of pearls and crystal drops artfully arranged in the coils.
"But...but these are not mine. Where did they come from?" asked Hester.
"Her ladyship sent them, mademoiselle. And the earrings. Hold your head still, please, while I put them in... Voila!"'
Regine's tone was so businesslike that Hester felt she dared not argue. And when she looked at the result of the maid's ministrations she decided not to try. Her hair had been dressed by an expert, and for once it was evident that, along with her brothers, Hester too had inherited the famous golden gilt hair of the Percevals. Curling tendrils framed and softened the classical Perceval features, and behind them gleaming twists of hair dressed high emphasised the graceful line of head and neck. Pearls and crystals hung from delicate ears.
Regine allowed herself a small smile before she became businesslike again. "Now for your dress." Hester stood like a doll in her simple slip of white satin while the two maids twitched the heavy folds of deep blue silk into place. She was not used to such a low neckline, accustomed as she was to covering up her lack of curves with numerous frills of lace, and she twitched the bodice a little higher. Regine pursed her lips, pulled it back into place and said sternly, "The neckline is perfectly modest, mademoiselle. You will spoil the line if you pull it so."
"Of course," said Hester meekly. "It was just that I seem to have more...more figure than usual."
"That is the art of cutting. I have not often seen such a beautiful piece of workmanship, no, not even in France. Would mademoiselle like to see herself?"
Hester stared at the figure in the looking-glass. Burnished hair glinting with stones, dark blue eyes wide with amazement, glittering drops at her ears, a slender throat, unmistakeable curves covered in satin overlaid with a simple layer of delicate white lace... All enhanced and enriched by the gleaming blue folds of silk.
Lady Martindale came in and clapped her hands. "My dear girl!" she exclaimed. "My dear Hester! Your hair! I never imagined... Regine, I congratulate you—that hair is divine!" Then she examined Hester from every side, and pronounced the dress a great success. "The fit is excellent. Why have we never seen that very pretty figure before, Hester, my love?'' Hester was still wondering what to reply when Lady Martindale smiled and said, "But we must go down to the salon. Robert will be here shortly. I can't wait to see his face! Come, my dear."
While they waited in the salon, Lady Martindale asked Hester if she had had a dress with a train before. "They can be difficult to manage, but yours is a very small one. See? It has a tiny loop to hold it up when your are dancing. Yes, just like that! It really is a beautiful dress, Hester. A great success. Do you like it?"
"I... I'm not sure... I've never had anything as striking as this before."
"You will be the belle of the ball, I swear. You must dance with Robert once, you know—he is our escort. But after that you can refuse him as often as you please." Lady Martindale started laughing. "London will be so sorry for him!"
"I can't wait to see it!" said Hester gleefully.
They were both still laughing when Dungarran was announced. If Hester had secretly hoped to see him struck dumb with admiration she was disappointed. He stopped, it was true, but merely to raise his eyeglass and examine her appearance with all his usual calm.
"Well, Robert? Admit you were wrong! That dark blue silk is perfect for Hester!"
"I knew it would be," he said as he kissed his aunt.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said I knew it would be." He came over and smiled as he took Hester's hand to kiss. "I also knew that Miss Perceval would be more likely to choose the blue if she believed I thought she should not. Am I right?"
"You...you...!" Hester controlled herself. She said calmly, "You are right, of course. How perceptive of you, sir. And how devious!"
"But in such a wonderful cause. May I say that you look magnificent, Miss Perceval? If I were a marrying man—"
"Which you are not."
"I would find it impossible not to make reality of our myth tonight."
"My dear sir," said Hester, giving him a provocative look. "If I were a marrying woman..."
"Yes?"
"I just might consider being more receptive. But as it is...." She smiled at him maliciously. "Prepare to act the part of a rejected suitor, Lord Dungarran!"
Chapter Nine
Though a number of important families had already left London, enough were left behind to give lustre to the Duchess of Harmond's ball. As Dungarran entered the reception room accompanied by his two ladies, a perceptible stir ran round the room, and one or two eyeglasses were raised. Hester stiffened and her hand on Dungarran's arm tightened.
"Courage, my friend," he said. "Think of it as a play. I know you can act a part—I've seen you do it, and very cleverly, too! This can't be more difficult than acting the man!"
These words helped Hester through the following, nerve-racking minutes. So many of the ladies and gentlemen of the Ton, people who had in recent weeks practically ignored her, found some reason or other to talk to Lady Martindale and her protégée. While they made polite enquiries about her parents, they eyed her covertly, clearly wondering what had happened to dull, quiet Miss Perceval. In some cases their curiosity was so open that it verged on impertinence, and Hester could not prevent the colour from rising in her cheeks. But she remembered Dungarran's words and acted her part. After a few minutes it was no longer so difficult to be at ease with these people. The sense of failure, which had caused her to be stiff and awkward in society, had been replaced with the knowledge that in one sphere she was truly admired and valued for the work she had been doing. The man beside her, one of society's most influential members, was willing to let his unblemished reputation for success with the ladies suffer a severe setback rather than lose her. Hester lifted her head proudly and continued to astonish the Ton with her charm and self possession.
All the same, she was immensely relieved when Dungarran offered his arm and asked her to dance. And when he suggested taking a long way round via the conservatory she almost forgot to hide her approval of t
he idea.
They made their way through leafy pathways towards the huge ballroom at the back of the house.
"My congratulations. You're doing splendidly," he said, looking down at her with a smile.
"I found it less difficult than I thought. And dancing is no longer the nightmare it once was."
"You dance very gracefully, Miss Perceval."
She felt the colour rising in her cheeks. "We both know that I owe my skill to you in the first instance, sir," she answered.
"But not much else," he said abruptly. "If you knew how much I have regretted my cruelty to you all those years ago!"
She suddenly wanted to tell him how her attitude towards that disastrous debut—and towards him—had changed. "I can now see that I deserved something of what you said—perhaps not all. But I no longer brood on it, nor bear any grudges. During the past few years Zeno has done more than anyone to heal that injury. And only recently I've come to realise that in a curious way you and he have balanced it all out between you. So...shouldn't we forget the past? The present is so much more interesting! Don't you agree?"
"You look so enchanting that I would agree with anything at the moment, Miss Perceval! But this is not according to plan! You are supposed to be treating me coldly, not offering an armistice!"
"Well then, having said my piece, I will! Come sir! Enough of this tête-à-tête! I wish to dance!"
* * *
Hester had no shortage of dancing partners, though neither Lowell nor any of his friends was there to support her. Dungarran asked her to dance again and was refused, but he tried once more two-thirds of the way through the evening. Hester, who had found most of her partners tediously predictable in their remarks, was glad to accept, though she once again gave a show of reluctance. They took the floor for a set of country dances.
But halfway through a progression down the middle of the set Hester suddenly stopped. "A pentacle!" she said. The couple behind cannoned into her, and a moment or two of confusion followed. Hester apologised gracefully, Dungarran shook his head with a deprecating smile at the rest of the set and they were soon under way again.
An Unreasonable Match Page 12
