Sally James

by Otherwise Engaged

Perhaps if her father had never demonstrated much love for her, even such a paltry gesture might have meant a great deal, Prudence concluded sadly. Possibly Charlotte nourished hopes that after a lifetime of neglect her father had made a deathbed repentance. A pity it had not taken a more practical form, she fumed, but silently, because she realised she could not shatter Charlotte's fragile links with her father.

  'Show me your dress for the masquerade,' she said bracingly, changing the subject before she could be betrayed into improper comments.

  Aunt Lavinia had been scathing in her comments when Lady Mottesford's invitation had arrived a few days earlier.

  'Just like the dreadful woman! Instead of a proper ball to launch Charlotte, and Emma, too, I suppose, she must make it a masquerade. An excuse for romping and loose behaviour totally unsuitable for a coming out party. I've a good mind to send our excuses.'

  Second thoughts, and a real fondness for Charlotte, prevented her from delivering such a snub, although on every intervening day she delivered a homily about encroaching mushrooms, and declared that nothing would persuade her to don fancy dress. Dominos and masks would have to suffice.

  Prudence had been somewhat regretful at this decision, but when she saw the gown Charlotte produced she was at first heartily thankful for it.

  Lady Mottesford must have found the dress in a trunk in the attics of Trelawn Manor, were her first thoughts. It was a ball gown in the style of fifty years earlier, with wide skirts and a loosely-flowing sacque back. The overskirt and very low bodice were of flowered yellow brocade, edged with faded yellow lace and limp, cream-coloured bows. There was a stiff, pointed cream stomacher and an underskirt of dirty white satin, with deep flounces at the hem, and the whole was worn over a large ungainly hoop.

  'Do you like it?' Charlotte asked wistfully. 'Emma has one very similar, but hers is pink.'

  Prudence swallowed her instinctive retort. How could the woman, even at a masquerade, allow the girls to appear as such frights?

  'Don't you think it will be difficult to manage those skirts?' she asked instead.

  'It will be awkward, I suppose, especially dancing, but Mama says we shall soon get used to it. She wore such gowns when she was young.'

  Not if she was a cook, Prudence thought wrathfully. A fierce determination to prevent Charlotte from wearing such a disastrous gown seized her.

  'Charlotte, I've had an idea! I haven't found a costume yet, but Uncle Dudley has several books with illustrations of ancient Greek and Roman people, and from what I recall their dresses were simple tunics and cloaks. Come and look at them with me, and we will find costumes which are easy for us to make. And let us keep it as a surprise for your Mama,' she added hurriedly.

  By the way Charlotte's eyes lit up Prudence knew she had her own doubts about the gown, and they gleefully arranged for Charlotte to come later that day to talk about ideas.

  Apart from distracting Charlotte's mind from the threat of marriage with Hubert Clutterbuck, and trying to bolster her courage, there was nothing Prudence could do. Back at home she tried to weave plans for discovering whether Edward Gregory's affections were engaged, but there seemed little hope of this. She had always treated him coldly, as the author of the wager with Lord Mottesford, and could scarcely change towards him in order to demand whether he loved Charlotte.

  And while Lord Mottesford himself kept at a distance there seemed little hope of making any useful inquiries.

  At last she decided to confide in Sarah, and urge her to try to discover what Mr Gregory's feelings were. They were both attending the opera that evening, and as they waited for it to begin Prudence signalled to Sarah, in a box opposite, that she needed to talk with her.

  It was a moment later that she realised Lord Mottesford was one of the party in Sarah's box, and during the first act she followed none of the action on stage. If he should accompany Sarah to the Fromes' box in the interval, should she make it plain he was forgiven? Would this enable her, perhaps, to find out more?

  She had not decided when the first interval began, so when Sarah appeared, escorted by Lord Mottesford, Prudence gave him a rather uncertain smile. He raised his eyebrows fractionally as he greeted her, and she blushed furiously, and as soon as possible drew Sarah away to the back of the box where she rapidly told her all that Charlotte had revealed to her.

  'Mr Gregory is her only hope, or that wretched woman will force her to marry the odious Hubert,' she concluded. 'How can we discover what he intends?'

  'I'll tell Edward he has offered for her, but she is reluctant,' Sarah said after a moment's reflection. 'If he loves her that will spur him into making his own declaration. If he does not there is nothing we can do.'

  Prudence sighed with relief.

  'Is it so easy?' she asked. 'I am certain he loves her, he looks at her so tenderly. Is he going to their masquerade?'

  'Yes, for he was wondering what to wear when I saw him yesterday.'

  'That woman!' Prudence exclaimed. 'She was going to make Charlotte wear some frightful outmoded dress with hoops, and even make her powder her hair! We spent the afternoon deciding on something else, and concluded the quickest thing to make was a Roman toga. Why don't you suggest that Edward wears Roman costume as well?'

  Sarah just had time to agree before it was time to return to their own box for the second act. As he rose to depart Lord Mottesford paused beside Prudence.

  'May I come back?' he asked quietly. 'We can walk outside and talk for a few moments, if you will.'

  Without waiting for her reply he nodded and left, and she was thrown into confusion so that she saw no more of the second act than she had of the first.

  Chapter 6

  'I came to apologise for the other night,' Lord Mottesford said abruptly, when Prudence, incapable of finding an excuse to refuse to walk with him in the corridor outside the boxes, had meekly accompanied him. 'Will you forgive me, and let us go on as before?'

  Prudence glanced up at him through her lashes. He was looking at her so warmly that she had to remind herself forcefully it was all pretence, he cared only for the wager, and so had to resume his pursuit of her.

  'I – it was – I don't know,' she whispered, heartily despising herself for such weak vacillation, but totally incapable of responding as she knew she ought, with anger and contempt of his tactics.

  'My only excuse is that you are so enchanting,' he said in a low, caressing voice. 'But if you prefer it, I will engage not to mention that, not even to pay you normal compliments until you give me leave. Will you drive with me in the morning so that I can demonstrate the firmness of my resolution?'

  She could not refuse. Despite her knowledge of his perfidy Prudence suddenly realised how empty the last few days had been without his company. Whatever the danger to her own contentment she wanted to be with him, to talk and laugh in the way that had become so natural between them.

  'Very well, my lord,' she said quietly, and after a brief word of thanks he began to talk of the opera, permitting her time to recover from the trembling which again attacked her before he returned with her to the Fromes' box.

  That night she found it difficult to sleep. It was foolish of her to encourage him when she knew the truth, she told herself firmly, and replied that it would soon be over, for when he lost the wager he would have no need to seek out her company. She would have only a few more chances to be with him, and surely making the most of them would not hurt any more than the knowledge of how he was treating her hurt at the moment.

  Did she want him to win the wager, her uncomfortable inner voice demanded, and she realised with horror that if she continued to behave as she was doing, he stood to do just that.

  With that in mind she was cool and distant when he called for her, although she had not been able to deny herself the pleasure of wearing a smart new gown of rose pink muslin, with a matching hat that framed her face in a delightfully saucy manner. He did not refer to Vauxhall, or say a word which could possibly offend, but as they parted he lo
oked deep into her eyes and said that he much looked forward to seeing her that evening at Lady Carstaires' ball.

  Lady Mottesford and Emma were emerging from their house as Prudence went in, and she heard Lady Mottesford hailing Lord Mottesford loudly.

  'My dear Richard, how delightful to see you!' she called, but as Tanner was waiting to close the door Prudence heard no more.

  'I am rather surprised Lady Mottesford is on such familiar terms with him,' she said a few minutes later to Netta, whom she discovered waiting for her in her bedroom.

  'It's just her,' Netta said with a shrug. 'Look how she insists on calling my mother Lady Lavinia instead of Lady Frome. She is trying to demonstrate she is on familiar terms with people when she isn't. It's all pretence.'

  Prudence was unconvinced. 'I cannot imagine who cares,' she said pettishly. 'Why are you not in the schoolroom?'

  'Miss Francis has taken the boys out to some ghastly museum. I said I would help you make your Roman toga,' she explained, indicating the unfolded garment which reposed on Prudence's bed beside her. 'That's far more useful plain sewing than hemming sheets!'

  'You have done a great deal, I can see!' Prudence said with an attempt at a laugh.

  'Well, that was only an excuse. Biddy says the servants next door have heard that Charlotte is to be betrothed soon. Did you know?'

  'Is it definite? She told me the dreadful Hubert had offered for her, although she did not want to accept. Her stepmother insists she does, however.'

  'She ought to run away.'

  'Don't be silly, where on earth could she go?'

  'She could be a chamber maid, or a governess. I don't know, but anything must be better than marrying that ridiculous man.'

  'Perhaps there will be some way out,' Prudence said slowly. She did not want to reveal to Netta her hopes that Edward Gregory might offer for Charlotte, in case nothing came of it.

  'What puzzles me is why the wretched woman went to all the expense of a London Season when Hubert was there all the time, ready and willing to marry Charlotte. If they wanted that it was risky introducing her to other men. Biddy says that she, Lady Mottesford, is always complaining about the waste of money, and makes the cook account to her for every penny spent. And according to her the refreshments she is planning for their masquerade are not at all what people will expect, and only enough to feed half the people coming!'

  'Thanks, I'll have a good dinner before I go,' Prudence said. 'But I imagine she hopes to find Emma a husband, too, and the Season is really for her. Charlotte is here simply to try to make them acceptable to the ton. At least she is of good birth, and people will put up with her stepmother for her sake, as we do.'

  'Who in the world would want to marry Emma?' Netta demanded, scandalised. 'Apart from being the daughter of a cook, and goodness knows who her father was, she's not even pretty, and she must be at least five and twenty! And so far as we know she has no fortune either.'

  'She might catch a widower as mean as Charlotte's father,' Prudence suggested with a faint laugh. 'Now I must try to finish this gown, for I have to help Charlotte with hers, she cannot take it home to work on.'

  'What will her stepmother say when she doesn't wear that other terrible one?' Netta asked, picking up the garment and beginning to work on it.

  'There isn't much she can say at the time,' Prudence replied hopefully, but without real conviction. She was determined to carry out her plan, as was Charlotte, but she had little confidence that Lady Mottesford would not make a fuss, probably in public, when she discovered the change.

  'How is Lord Mottesford behaving?' Netta asked a few minutes later. 'He has only a couple of days left before the month is up.'

  'Does he?' Prudence asked, startled. She had not kept track of the days. 'I don't think he can claim to have won,' she replied thoughtfully, torn between satisfaction at having foiled him, and a bleak feeling there would soon be no reason for him to seek her company.

  She could not find an excuse for not wearing her latest ball gown, in shimmering pale-blue silk, with a gauzy floating overskirt of silver net. She was wary, however, when Lord Mottesford sought her out at the ball, and solicited her hand both for the first cotillion, then the supper dance, a waltz.

  The cotillion gave them little chance for conversation, and Prudence relaxed. When she saw Edward leading Charlotte into another set, smiling fondly down at her, she smiled herself. It seemed that he was interested, and if Sarah had managed to tell him of Hubert's offer he must act soon.

  'There is to be a balloon ascent in the Park tomorrow,' Lord Mottesford told her as he escorted her back to where Lady Frome sat with a group of friends. 'Will you come with me to see it?'

  'Oh, I have never seen a balloon,' Prudence said, her eyes lighting up eagerly. 'Yes, indeed, I would love to!' she accepted, before she realised she had not intended to be more than icily polite.

  'Good, then I will arrange it. Farewell until the waltz,' he added in a low tone.

  Prudence bit her lip in annoyance. She had given him encouragement at just the wrong moment. She would betray herself if he showed too much admiration, and the waltz was not the sort of dance she would have wished to partner him in, it was far too disturbing with a man's arm holding one so daringly.

  She need not have been concerned. He was not in the least amorous as he guided her round the ballroom, holding her impersonally and chatting about innocuous topics so that she gradually gave herself up to the swaying rhythm of the music, and the thrills of spinning round so gracefully.

  'You dance excellently,' he complimented her after they had settled themselves at a small table in the supper room. 'I hope I can look forward to many more waltzes with you.'

  She paused, about to bite into a lobster patty, and regarded him with a slight frown. Was he being honest, did he intend to seek her out once the month of the wager was up, or was this just one more ploy during the last few days by which he hoped to win it?

  It was impossible to tell, and she found herself restless and unable to sleep that night, counting off the days since they had met and reliving the occasions when, despite it all, she had been so happy in his company. She finally fell asleep with the realisation that there were two days to go. Two more days when she dared not reveal how she felt towards him, both because she was determined he would not win the wager, and to safeguard herself against hurt when it became plain he cared nothing for her.

  The following day he was as imperturbable as ever, while Prudence's mood veered between cool determination to snub him, and uncontrollable excitement at this, her first sight of a balloon ascent.

  'Where will they take it?' she asked as they drove with a throng of other carriages towards the enclosure where the men were getting the balloon ready.

  'That depends on the wind. It's quite fresh today, from the south west, so they will be blown towards Essex, probably to the east of Barnet.'

  'So far?'

  'It could be much farther. I am no expert, but I believe it depends on how high they can get at first.'

  'How does it work?'

  'The balloon is filled with a gas such as hydrogen which is much lighter than air, and so it rises. They have ballast in the basket, and throw it out to help the balloon rise.'

  'And to come down? Can they control it? It must be terribly dangerous!'

  'I'm not certain how they do that, but it is possible, probably by letting the gas escape. Some flights are made with hot air, which is lighter than cold air, and when they let out the fire beneath the air inside the balloon cools down.'

  'But they have to go where the wind takes them. Netta says it is a fashion which people will soon lose interest in, for it has no possible use. Oh, look, there it is!'

  Lord Mottesford was able to find a place for his phaeton in the front row of vehicles, filled with excited spectators, and for an hour Prudence forgot all her problems as, fascinated, she watched the preparations in the enclosure about the balloon, and finally, to the cheers of the spectators, the as
cent itself.

  They turned to watch the balloon, with the two intrepid men in the small basket below it, float away in a north easterly direction, and Prudence sighed with immense satisfaction.

  'I'd like to go up in one,' she said dreamily. 'Just imagine what it must be like to see the houses and fields and woods spread out miles beneath. Much better than looking down from a hillside. Have you ever been up a really high mountain?' she asked suddenly, turning to Lord Mottesford.

  'Yes, in Spain. And I plan to visit Italy when we have defeated Napoleon, which should be within a year, at most. I shall go by way of Switzerland and the Alps.'

  Prudence sighed slightly. 'I envy you,' she said slowly. 'I've always longed to travel, but Aunt Lavinia hates it, and we rarely go anywhere except between Horton Grange and London.'

  He did not reply, and glancing up at him she saw he was looking intently across the enclosure to where the carriages on the far side were now visible.

  'I did not know Edward planned to be here,' he said after a slight pause.

  Prudence could now see Edward, who was mounted on a large bay horse. He was beside a barouche which contained Lady Mottesford, Emma, Charlotte and Hubert. Even at this distance Prudence could sense Hubert's antagonism towards Edward, while she could see the timid glances Charlotte cast up at him. She was very much afraid the determined smile on Lady Mottesford's face concealed a mood of fury, and wondered what had happened to cause it.

  'He seems much taken with your cousin,' Prudence ventured, and he looked down at her in amusement.

  'Matchmaking?' he asked teasingly, and she flushed.

  'It would be better for her than that worm Hubert!' she snapped. 'Even with no money Mr Gregory would be fortunate to win so sweet and gentle a creature!'

  'Instead of a termagant,' he said softly, but before she could respond he had seen a gap in the crowd and unerringly guided his phaeton into it. By the time he had cleared it Prudence had recalled the inadvisability of engaging in word battles with him, and she replied in monosyllables during the short drive back to Grosvenor Square.