by Lynn Morris
Mirabella smiled. “They are a birthday gift from my parents, and so I’m afraid you must inquire of them about the cost, as it would be ill-mannered of me to discuss it.”
The Earl of the Island of Jersey was an aristocratic-looking man, with fine features. In contrast to his wife, he had a no-nonsense manner and a rapier-sharp wit. He said, “As if Sally would note ill manners, unless it’s someone she doesn’t like, and she likes you, Lady Mirabella. I’m sure she won’t press you, at any rate, for we all know she’ll go to—was it Jeffrey’s? Rundell & Bridge? She’ll be there tomorrow, nagging John Bridge until he tells her down to the ha’pence how much your jewels cost.”
“Jersey, I’m standing right here,” Lady Jersey said, but with no sign of animosity. “He will speak of me in third person, which drives me to distraction, and he knows it very well. There, now I’ve repaid him in kind. Mirabella, have you heard the latest of Caro? Yesterday the mad little fool dressed up as a messenger boy and went to the Albany and tried to get in to see Byron. It caused quite a scene, I understand, and finally they sent to Lamb to come fetch her. I’m surprised to see her here tonight after all that bedlam.” Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “I don’t suppose you invited Byron, did you?”
“I did not, I’m barely acquainted with the man,” Mirabella answered.
Lady Jersey said, “I’m not at all surprised, as Caro so famously said, he is ‘mad, bad, and dangerous to know.’ I’d wager that she asked you the same question.”
“Yes, she did, and she seemed distraught when I told her no.”
“Poor Caro, and poor Lamb,” Lady Jersey said. “Come, Jersey, let’s go see if we can cheer them up, so many people are avoiding her she looks stranded.” Resignedly Lord Jersey bowed to Mirabella and followed his wife.
Viscount Southam said, “I believe you owe me an apology, Lady Mirabella, for you accused me of gross exaggeration, a vice that I particularly abhor. You witnessed the first sentence from Lady Jersey’s lips, that she was lividly jealous of you.”
“Good heavens, it’s difficult to give much weight to anything that Sally says, the sheer quantity overwhelms you. Still, sir, I ask your pardon for attributing to you such a detestable trait.”
“I will forgive you,” he said with mock gravity, “if you will grant me the honor of two waltzes.”
“I fear you’re a trifle late, my waltzes are already claimed,” Mirabella said lightly.
“I’m desolate. Here, let me see your dance card. Ah, that devil Brydges, and Knyvet, and that young pup Smythe claimed two?”
“He did specifically ask for them, and I could hardly refuse in the mere anticipation that you might request them.”
He said firmly, “I wish you had done. In order to make it up to me, you must grant me the allemande, and this country dance just before supper, and you must also allow me the honor of escorting you to supper.”
“Oh, I must do this and I must do that?” Mirabella said, but she smiled. “I warn you, sir, I’m of such an obstinate nature that I rarely do as I’m ordered.”
“I beg you, make an exception for me. After all, your offense was grave.”
“Very well, I’ll make an exception, but just this one time, mind you.”
“Just tonight? Then I intend to capitalize on it,” he said, and his eyes gleamed. “You must also allow me the pleasure of dancing La Boulanger at the end of the night.”
Mirabella’s eyes widened. “That’s entirely too much capitalization, sir! You know very well that I daren’t dance three times with a gentleman unless I’m engaged to him.”
Coolly he said, “Yes, there is that.”
Mirabella was utterly nonplussed, and involuntarily she drew in a sharp breath. He watched her with amusement, then said carelessly, “I’ll settle for the two dances, and supper, but just this one time. Your servant, madam.” He bowed and walked away.
In confusion Mirabella thought, Whatever did he mean by that? That he would only dance waltzes with me from here on out? Surely he couldn’t have meant that he would start demanding three dances, that’s awful! Isn’t it? Mirabella reflected that Lord Southam was high-handed, but she had to admit to herself that it thrilled her a little. She enjoyed matching wits with him, although, she thought ruefully, it seemed that she never came off as well as he did.
Coming out of her reverie, she grew mindful of her duties as a hostess and circulated around the crowd, speaking to several people. At length she found Josephine and Giles, who were talking with Barbara and Harry Smythe. Josephine looked lovely in an emerald-green satin gown, and as always, Mirabella noted that Lewin did not look at all absurd in his stockings and pumps, as he had an athlete’s physique. She said, “Josephine, Barbara, I hope you’ve found plenty of partners. In truth, it’s so difficult to arrange for enough eligible young men, sometimes I despair that so much of the guest list must be taken up by chaperones.”
“Perhaps next year you might ask the mothers to form a pool,” Barbara said mischievously. “One mamma might sponsor, say, six young ladies.”
Mirabella was surprised; normally Barbara said very little, and when she did it was something of an innocuous nature. Then she realized that Mrs. Smythe was nowhere in sight.
Giles said, “I think that’s a splendid idea. In fact, why don’t we organize it now? Call all of the mammas together, and send five out of six of them home.”
“Well, that would certainly assure that my ball would be the most talked-of event of the Season,” Mirabella said. “Now here is the quadrille. Where is Lord Trevor? If he leaves me standing for the first dance I’ll never forgive him.”
“He’s right behind you, grinning like a baboon,” Giles said.
“I take exception to that, Knyvet, baboons don’t grin,” Lord Trevor said cheerfully. “Lady Mirabella, surely you know I would never miss a dance with you, they are much too hard to come by. I wish to make you all aware, I was obliged to reserve my two dances nine days in advance. I’m considering making my reservations for next year.”
“Such nonsense you do talk,” Mirabella said, taking his arm and moving to the dance floor. As they waited, Lord Trevor said, “So I’m often told, but I will say this, and there is nothing nonsensical about it. You are by far the most beautiful lady here. You’re always in good looks, Lady Mirabella, but tonight you positively glow as brightly as your jewels.”
“I thank you, sir, you are too kind.”
The four highest-ranking couples, including Lord and Lady Camarden, performed the first of the set. “Actually, I’m not all that kind, you know. I was merely stating a fact, one with which I’m sure all the men would agree, and the ladies would deny, out of pure envy. Oho, what is this bemused expression on your face, my lady? Someone has anticipated my carefully planned compliment, have they not? It’s Southam, I’ll wager, blast him, he’s as smooth as sweet oil, and just as slippery. Not to worry, I’ll think up something more original and spellbinding before the first waltz.”
Lord Trevor continued with his outlandish banter during the dance, and Mirabella was vastly amused. She realized, too, that somehow she felt conflicted, because when she considered Lord Trevor and Lord Southam, her impulses of physical attraction seemed virtually indistinguishable. She admired both men’s looks, and their unmistakably masculine air. Lord Southam was self-assured, even masterful. Lord Trevor had a certain raw, rough edge that was in no way vulgar. Mirabella found both men exciting.
Mirabella’s second dance, a country dance, was with Denys Aldington. It was a lively long dance, with very little opportunity to converse with one’s partner. The expression on Aldington’s sensitive features was one of polite pleasure, but he had none of the animation that Mirabella recalled from past years. As he took her hand to escort her off the floor, he said, “Lady Mirabella, you are as radiant tonight as starshine. Would you make me the most fortunate man here, and allow me to escort you in to supper?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Aldington, but Lord Southam has already offered to
escort me. There are any number of ladies here who would be glad to accept you, and I hope you will join us at our table.”
He sighed. “You are so kind and charming, as always and ever. I suppose I shall be obliged to settle for a poor second, for no woman can compare to you, ma’am.” He bowed and, with a slight squeeze of her hand, left her.
The first waltz was, as solemnly promised, with Lord Trevor, and he was as rakishly charming as ever. “That scoundrel Southam told me that he’s taking you in to supper. Blast it all, I should’ve thought to reserve supper nine days ago,” he said with his captivating grin. “All is well, however, for I intend to sit with you and insert myself into your conversation, and if possible monopolize you entirely.”
“I’m sure Lord Southam will be vastly intimidated,” Mirabella said.
“Oh, yes, certainly, he’s so easily daunted. As much as a bull mastiff.”
It was difficult to ascertain who was partnered with whom in the long, ever-changing lines of the country dance, but it was easy to see the couples in the waltz. Mirabella had noted that Josephine seemed to be partnered for every dance; with amusement she saw that Lord Palmerston had claimed her first waltz. Giles was waltzing with Barbara Smythe. Later, in the second waltz, which Mirabella had engaged to Harry Smythe, she noted that Giles again danced with Miss Smythe. Barbara was in particularly good looks tonight in her shot silk white gown, Mirabella reflected, and she seemed animated. She also observed that Lord Southam danced the first waltz with Lady Jersey, and the second with Lady Cowper.
He dutifully appeared for the allemande, and as they danced he observed, “Lady Caroline is having the hysterics in the cardroom, it’s really reprehensible.”
“Oh, no,” Mirabella moaned. “I was hopeful that she would find the company so congenial that she might enjoy herself. Perhaps Mamma and I should go to her.”
“There is no need, Lamb is already preparing to take her home. And I’m sorry, but you are under obligation to me for precisely two dances and supper, and I have no intention of excusing you from either duty.”
“It’s hardly a burdensome duty, sir,” Mirabella said, her eyes brilliant.
They danced again, the last country dance before supper. Mirabella observed that Lord Southam, with his elegant, sophisticated deportment, was ill-suited to the frolicsome long dances.
As he took her arm to escort her down to the dining room, he said, “How relieved I am to be finished with that ordeal. I only endured it for the pleasure of your company.”
“You bore it with amazing fortitude, sir. Although you obviously don’t enjoy the country dance, you do perform it gracefully.”
“Gracefully, I should hope, but I’m always afflicted with the strangest feeling that I’m the only adult dancing with a crowd of children.”
Lord and Lady Camarden, followed by Mirabella and Lord Southam, led their guests downstairs to the dining room. As midnight suppers served at balls were so informal, no particular precedence was observed in the procession, and people sat down wherever they liked. The strict protocol restricting conversation solely to one’s partner on the left or right did not apply; conversation was general, and couples could converse together without giving offense to their dining partners.
The diners’ tables were laden with platters of ham, beef, and veal, sliced paper-thin, with both sweet and savory sauces, salad platters of celery, endive, cucumbers, and pickles, an assortment of cheeses, fresh breads and rolls, and of course a selection of Madame Danton’s luscious confections. Mirabella noted that the fruit arrangements looked particularly beautiful, and charitably thought that she could not possibly have done better.
She and Lord Southam seated themselves at a central table. Mirabella was somewhat surprised that he sat down beside her, rather than at the head of the table; she’d had the impression that he was the type of man who would naturally assume the dominant seat. Soon, to her gratification, they were joined by her friends. Harry Smythe escorted Josephine, Giles escorted Barbara Smythe, and at the far end Denys Aldington sat with Lady Margaret FitzGeorge, a rather plain, shy girl. Lord Trevor escorted Rosalind, Lady FitzGeorge. To Mirabella’s amusement, he seated Rosalind across from her, and took the seat by her at the head of the table with an impudent wink.
The diners talked among themselves as they filled their plates, but as they began to eat the conversations became more private between the couples. Mirabella saw that Lord Trevor did not come through on his vow to monopolize her; in fact he half-turned away from her and spoke with Rosalind in a low voice. It nettled her, but only slightly, and she gladly turned her full attention to Lord Southam. He asked her about Camarden Court, for he had never visited there. Mirabella described it, and spoke of how happy she was with her long walks, her rides, driving her phaeton all over the countryside, and in particular her conservatory.
“You seem enamored with country life,” he said. “It has been my experience that most young ladies regard it as boring and rather stifling.”
“I suppose that I have so many varied interests that I’m rarely bored. But surely I must be boring you, with all of my prattling on about Camarden. What about you, sir? I’ve heard that Wetherley Manor is particularly grand. Do you spend much time there?”
“It is a fine estate, I’m fortunate to have it. But no, I spend very little time there.”
With some dismay Mirabella asked, “Then you do not care for country living?”
With a curious half-smile he answered, “I do enjoy country pursuits, such as hunting and shooting and fishing. But I generally spend the fall and winter with friends. I find that entertaining at Wetherley is troublesome, as there is no mistress to provide the ladies with a gracious hostess.”
“Yes, I can well understand that giving large house parties would be difficult for a single man. A bachelor’s life must be solitary indeed.”
“It is. Lately I’ve been thinking that I should remedy that,” he said, staring straight at her. Mirabella could feel her cheeks flush. But as usual, he gave her no opportunity to reflect, or to answer. He went on lightly, “I see that you’ve finished eating, although you barely ate enough for a bird, as it is with most delicate females. Perhaps I may fetch you an ice?”
“Thank you, I’m longing for a coconut cream ice,” Mirabella managed to answer. He rose, bowed, and went to the tables where footmen served the numerous selections of ices, sorbets, cream ices, and cakes.
Lord Trevor rose at the same time and went to the confections table. Rosalind was glowing. “I must say that Lord Trevor is one of the most amusing men I’ve ever known. He’s so handsome, too. But I think your conquest must be equally as enticing. Those broad shoulders!”
“He’s not my conquest, Rosalind,” Mirabella said. “I hardly know him.”
“Obviously he intends to remedy that,” she replied with a sly smile. “Do you know, I had a painful crush on him when I was seventeen. Then, when FitzGeorge began to court me, my parents insisted that I’d be a little fool to trade a fabulously wealthy earl for a mere viscount.”
Curiously Mirabella asked, “How did you feel about that?”
“Obviously I agreed with them, I married FitzGeorge. But I had very little hope for Southam anyway, he never paid me the slightest bit of mind. I think he prefers ladies with some sophistication about them, and is bored with raw girls just out of the schoolroom. He’s quite a catch, Mirabella. You should secure him as quickly as ever you can.”
“But I don’t—” She broke off when Lord Trevor and Lord Southam returned with the ladies’ ices.
As generally happened with late suppers, people began to get up and move around the tables, visiting with friends. Most of the older people retired to the cardroom, and many of the ladies to the drawing room. Mirabella and Lord Southam talked with Rosalind and Lord Trevor for a while. Harry Smythe and Josephine went to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Smythe. Mirabella saw that Giles and Miss Smythe were still deep in conversation and took no note of anyone else. Denys Aldington spoke
to Lady Margaret, who kept her eyes downcast and said hardly anything at all. His eyes often rested on Mirabella.
As more and more people began to get up and mill around, Lord Southam said, “Would you do me the honor of taking some air in the garden with me? I find the heat oppressive in here.”
“I’d love to get some fresh air,” Mirabella gladly replied.
At some houses, couples often met in the secluded gardens for romantic assignations, but such was not so at the Camarden town house. The garden and loggia were well lit by dozens of lanterns, and candles on the dining table and the wrought iron tables. The sideboard held tea, coffee, wine, port, negus, and lemonade, and footmen served the couples enjoying the cool night breeze.
Mirabella and Lord Southam sat down by the fountain, and Mirabella gratefully breathed in the heavily flower-scented air. Occasionally tiny droplets splashed from the fountain and fell on them, and it was refreshing. Lord Southam sat very near to Mirabella, and leaned close. “I’m tempted to keep you here as long as possible, since my time with you tonight is at an end.”
“But surely you’re not leaving,” Mirabella protested.
“No, I’ll go to the cardroom, the gaming was excellent until Lady Caroline disrupted everyone with her theatrics.”
“You aren’t dancing the second set?”
In a low voice he replied, “No, I’ve danced all I care to this evening, as my favored partner refuses to stand up with me again. I’d very much like to spend more time with you, my lady, instead of here-and-there blurs of waltzes. I know this is very short notice, so it’s presumptuous of me, but I have a proposition for you.”
Startled, Mirabella blurted, “A what? A proposition?”
He was amused. “Don’t be so alarmed, believe me, I have no nefarious intent. No, what I propose is this. On Saturday night there is to be a grand display of fireworks at Vauxhall, and they also have a troop of Chinese acrobats that are said to be so skilled they are almost magical. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me? If you aren’t previously engaged, of course.”
