The center of the village was busy as we passed through, its inhabitants eager to be out of doors after the rain of the morning. Even with the bustle, the Duke’s massive figure astride a black horse stood out as he rode by in the opposite direction. We happened to see one another at the same moment, and civility required some sort of notice. I smiled slightly, as I would to anyone, and inclined my head. The Duke returned the gesture roughly and without the smile. Even though he was moving faster than we were, his sharp eyes seemed to take in everything about us. Then he was gone and we were continuing on our way.
Hannah Bartlett looked back toward the Duke’s retreating form. “The Duke is rather intimidating, is he not, Bella? I would not exchange places with Agnes for anything if it meant I was required to be in the same house with such a disagreeable man.”
“He is somewhat rough-mannered,” I responded thoughtfully, “but I do not think he is intimidating, exactly. Difficult to approach, perhaps, but not intimidating.”
“But he glares at one so! Really, I do not know how you were brave enough to dance with him. Richard said the Duke only danced with you, and that he looked most disgruntled the entire time.”
I frowned, but Emily spoke before I could. “Hannah, you should not speak so of others. What is it to us if His Grace chooses to be unpleasant?”
“I quite agree,” I said, stepping around a large puddle as we moved beyond the edge of the village and onto the south road. “In any case, I was not frightened by him then, and I will not be now. Rough manners are nothing to me.”
“Agnes says that the Duke lives alone in a ruined castle with only his valet and an elderly housekeeper for company. She says there is not another soul for miles around, and that the Duke lives more like a wild man than a real gentleman.”
“Hannah! What would Mother say if she heard you spreading such gossip?” Emily said in annoyance.
I laughed. “Agnes has been reading too many novels again. Doubtless she is exaggerating the situation because she has taken a dislike to her houseguest. You know she tends toward the dramatic.”
Emily nodded in agreement. “Indeed. I am certain His Grace lives exactly as any other single gentleman would.” Hannah looked as though she wished to protest this, but we had reached our first destination, and she was required to let the matter rest.
After two hours, we had visited every family on Emily’s list. I walked back to the Vicarage with the girls before bidding them farewell and continuing on toward home. My basket still had a few items that I wished to leave with Nellie, the wife of Thomas, our groomsman. On reaching the beginning of our property, I left the road and struck out across the west field. The ground was soft and somewhat muddy in places due to the rain, but I had worn my sturdy boots and pinned up my hem in preparation. The air felt fresh and cool on my face as I trudged along, and the clouds skittered along across the sky, letting glimpses of sunshine peek through.
Eventually I came to the stand of trees that cuts through the lower end of the west field. As I approached the tree line, I was surprised to hear a horse whinnying on the other side of the copse. The horse and its rider were soon in view, the former standing still while the latter inspected the animal’s front hoof.
“Your Grace,” I said, somewhat startled, for the Duke was the last person I expected to see. He looked up, also a little surprised. Gently, he lowered the horse’s hoof to the ground and stood straight.
“Miss Copley,” he said in his usual gruff tone. He was dressed in a thick riding cloak and a leather hat with a wide, low-set brim that made him look more bear-like than usual. “Forgive my intrusion on your property. I was passing through when my horse slipped his shoe.”
“Are you in need of assistance? I am on my way to see my father’s groom. His house is just ahead.” I pointed past the Duke to the distant little board house I had been intending to visit. He looked around and then nodded.
“Thank you, yes,” he said shortly. We stood there for a moment. I am not certain what I was waiting for, but it was somewhat awkward to stand there in the mud, so I began walking again. The Duke fell into step beside me, leading his horse with the reins in one hand. We walked for several minutes in silence, which was also most uncomfortable.
Finally the Duke chose to speak. “I believe I passed you earlier in the village,” he said. It was not a question.
“Yes, I was helping the Bartletts with their duties to the families in the parish. We go every week about this time.”
The Duke nodded. “I believe Miss Duncan mentioned something of the sort over breakfast. But I did not see her with you.” Again, it was a statement and not a question.
I paused to consider before responding. I did not wish to be rude, as Agnes is my friend, but I could not pretend that she had not neglected to join us again. “Perhaps she was engaged with other important duties,” I said finally. “She does join us at times, but we do miss her company when she does not attend.”
“Would you consider lounging before the fire and reading Udolpho to be one of those… important duties?” the Duke asked, the irony highlighted by his sarcastic tone.
“No, I would not,” I said. “But then, I am not the one at home reading Udolpho, so I am ill-qualified to speak on the matter.” I watched the Duke as I said this and saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly at my words.
“Perhaps not. But then I know of very few young ladies who do not find their duties to be irksome in some fashion or other.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “That is a rather cynical view, Your Grace. Do you suppose that none of us are capable of truly caring for the welfare of others?”
The Duke shot a piercing look at me. “No. Rather that it has not been my experience to know any.”
“That is a pity. But now you can claim to know two, for the Bartlett girls are both genuinely interested in the welfare of their father’s parishioners. Even Agnes does her duty by her father’s tenants, even if she is not always attentive to those outside his lands, so the number rises to three.”
“Say four, rather,” the Duke said with a rumble. I looked at him, somewhat bemused, but his expression was neutral, as it so often is when he says astonishing things. I was unable to come up with a response to this, so we walked the rest of the way in silence.
Thomas was at home and took the Duke and his horse to our stables at once. I remained behind to visit with Nellie and inquire after her children before returning to the house to change for tea. On entering the drawing room, I found Papa deep in discussion with the Duke himself about some scientific matter. On my entrance, the Duke actually stood up (another astonishing thing), though he did not speak much after I joined them. He also did not indulge in his usual habit of pointedly staring at me.
Is not all of this strange? How is one to reconcile such contradictory behavior? This is the longest conversation the Duke and I have had since the Bartlett’s card party, and yet I feel no closer to unraveling his character.
But enough of my ramblings. Your most recent letter arrived today and I have not even begun to respond to it. It is just like Fanny to expect congratulation for avoiding her lessons. I never did discover where she learned such a foolish notion. We may be close in age, but we have never understood one another. It is much to the gentleman’s credit that this Sir George was not fooled by her ridiculous display. Really, Fanny seems to think that high spirits and pert behavior are as effective at catching a man as intelligent conversation and practiced talent. I am almost grateful that Aunt Sylvia neglected her duty to help Papa raise me, for it spared me from seeing more of Fanny than absolutely necessary.
I am sorry; it is not helpful to say such things when you must endure her presence on a daily basis. I can only commend you for your patience and hope for your sake that Fanny will one day gain a modicum of sense. Until then, I wait anxiously for your next letter. You must tell me all about Lady Rousseau’s ball, and you must not leave out any details. I am counting on you to brighten my otherwise ordinary da
ys with tales of your Parisian adventures.
Love,
Isabella
31 March, 1845
24 Rue de Verre, Paris
Dear Isabella,
Your letters arrived in the midst of our removal to our new lodgings, and I am just now finding time to answer them. We have only been settled for a few days, and yet the difference is striking. Martha quite approves the change, although she still looks a bit askance at the French servants. It is quite the vogue amongst the English ladies here in Paris to hire a Parisian maid, but I do not think I could do without Martha.
You will not like to hear me say this, but I cannot think it was at all a good idea to purposefully douse Gilbert Cosgrove with tea. He certainly deserved it, but what of the inconvenience to Lady Graham? It is for the best, I suppose, that she was one of your mother’s dearest friends. You might have greatly offended her otherwise. Do not think that my disapproval is meant to overshadow the annoyance you experienced. I am merely pointing out that it might have been better to wait for a better opportunity to give Gilbert a proper set-down. At the very least, you would have been more satisfied with the results.
Speaking of proper set-downs, what could the Duke of Stirling mean by staring at you so rudely? I hope you do find an opportunity to convey your annoyance with him. Indeed, sometimes I envy you your ability to put impertinent persons in their place calmly and without ruffled feelings. (Even defying S. and her unfair accusations leaves me feeling guilty and sore at heart, as though I am the one who should apologize for my forwardness. I know I should become more hardened in my own defense, but it is difficult to change something so ingrained in my nature.) And yet, in looking over your other letter, it seems the Duke is not incapable of somewhat proper behavior. It is indeed most confusing! In any event, let us hope that the Duke does not intend to lengthen his stay beyond a month, and that you will soon be liberated from his contradictory presence.
I must put my pen down soon. We are to take tea with the Galloways this afternoon, and I must first make a trip to the modiste to pick up the slippers for my ball gown. There was a problem with the coloring when they were matched to my gown, but Madame Lessay promised to have them ready this morning. I shall write again on Wednesday when I return from the ball.
Oh, but before I finish…thinking of the Duke’s rudeness nearly caused me to forget the rest of my observations about Gilbert Cosgrove. I believe he is attempting to capture your attentions, and it is quite possible that he means to make you an offer. He has always had a fascination with you (although you must admit that you have refused to acknowledge this in the past). It was clear to me last summer when we visited Copley Manor. Of course I agree completely with your dislike of his attentions. Perhaps you may put his attachment to you to good use and convince him that he is actually interested in Eliza Hollingdon. He is not the match that Mrs. Hollingdon could wish for her daughter, naturally, but Eliza seems fond of him, and she would make him a doting, if not perfectly sensible wife.
I am off to the modiste! I shall deliver the order for your gown at the same time. The pattern selection you have made is lovely; I shall have no trouble in selecting the fabrics and trimmings. You will not be disappointed in your commission, I promise.
2 April
I am very glad I kept my letter open until after Lady Rousseau’s ball, for there is much to tell! It is late, but my spirits are still in a flurry and it will help to calm me if I write to you about the events. But I must start at the beginning or I shall be sure of leaving something out.
The ball was completely full, for everyone wished to see if the rumored royalty would actually attend. Any other ballroom would have been insufficient to hold the vast number of people in attendance. I wore one of my new Parisian gowns, a midnight blue satin, with my crystal pins in my hair and a necklace of cut crystal set in gold. (Papa says I may have Mama’s diamond set on my next birthday, and I am certain it will look stunning with this gown; it is a pity my birthday is still so far off. As it was, I think I looked remarkably well.) Hettie’s gown was velvet, but she had it made up in a most boring shade of pale yellow that gave her a washed-out look and did not set her off to advantage. She could look well if she would only choose more flattering colors. Even Fanny cannot convince her to give up her odd love of the color. Of course, Fanny was dressed in a lurid shade of green brocade that only she could find desirable, so I do not think she is the best one to advise Hettie on her color choices. Step-mamma wore a gown of gold silk that showed her off to advantage, as usual. One would think it was she who was looking for a suitor, rather than her daughters, for all the attention she paid to her own toilette. Papa wore black silk breeches with a dark blue coat and a gold-striped silk waistcoat, and I thought he looked very well.
We arrived in good time and spent the first half of the ball most agreeably. I will say this for the gentlemen here: they are almost universally the best dancers I have ever had the pleasure of standing up with. They have a grace that many of our Englishmen would do well to imitate. Every dance was a joy, and the conversation was pleasant, for this is when I most often practice my languages, and topics are easy to find when discussing places I have never been but long to see. Indeed, I have not held an insipid conversation while dancing since I left London!
Thus far there had not been a sign that anyone of royal status had arrived. It was only what I had expected, although Fanny pouted most dreadfully to Step-mamma about how flat the ball was; I can only assume that her normal beaux were insufficient when compared with the potential to flirt with royalty. Indeed, we seemed to know everyone there, except for two gentlemen who appeared to be intimate acquaintances of the Rousseaus. The younger gentleman of the two in particular caught my attention several times throughout the evening. He was dressed with prodigious elegance and had quite the most astonishingly blue eyes I had ever seen. He did not dance, but he watched the dancing with great interest and (I thought) a bit of longing. More than once I saw his foot tapping in time with the music. The elderly gentleman who accompanied him seemed to be the reason for the younger’s reluctance to dance, for he required an inordinate amount of attention, and he seemed to scoff at the couples on the floor.
Now, you must not think that I spent the entire ball staring at this rather handsome stranger, for I assure you that I was most discreet. But really, I could not help watching him, for there was something about his air which I could not easily dismiss. True, he did catch my eye several times by accident, but I think it only justifies me, for he was certainly watching me too. The first time it happened was near the start of the ball. I happened to catch him looking at me as I was joining a set, and I smiled politely, as I would to anyone. He returned the smile and nodded, and that seemed the end of it. But it happened several more times, and each time his smile seemed to indicate that he found the circumstance amusing. I am afraid I blushed far more than I would have liked, but really I could not help it. Still, it seemed that the elderly gentleman would limit our acquaintance simply to glances across the ballroom, so I thought nothing of it. But you shall see in a moment the result of this interesting exchange of looks.
I had just finished dancing an allemande with Baron Wilhelm (the rather handsome man with fair hair and brown eyes I mentioned previously). We were returning to the side and chatting most animatedly in German about his home in Munich when I happened to glance to my left in the direction of the card room in time to see the young man I had been noticing and his elderly friend enter the door. I felt a slight sense of disappointment, though I could not explain exactly why, but I do not think the Baron noticed. He left me in my seat and bowed respectfully before leaving, and I found myself obliged to sit out the next dance, for our conversation did not finish in time for me to be asked by a new partner. I caught sight of Fanny about halfway down the set just as she missed her steps and trod on her partner’s feet. Step-mamma stood by Papa while he chatted with one of his friends, and Hettie was near the refreshment table with one of the Dupont
e daughters. I soon tired of watching the dancing and found my thoughts wandering to the young man again. It was a shame that someone who seemed to enjoy dancing so much would be kept from participating by the prejudices of an elderly person. I wondered who he was and what relationship there was between them, for the young man must have great respect for his elderly companion if he could put up with sitting out of every dance at a ball for such a grim friend.
My thoughts were interrupted by the approach of Lady Rousseau, no doubt coming to see how I was enjoying the ball. For being so very popular, Lady R. is very good at making one feel that one is important, even in an overcrowded ballroom. I stood as she reached me, and it was only then that I realized she was not alone. Behind her stood the very young man that I had been exchanging looks with all evening! I was surprised but pleased and I fought down a blush at the thought that I was the first young lady he had sought the acquaintance of upon being freed from the elderly gentleman.
“Eleanor, my dear,” Lady Rousseau said in French (for as the hostess, it is she who chooses the language of introduction), “this gentleman wishes to meet you.” She turned to him. “May I present my cousin, Lord Rupert von Schönfeld of Vienna. And this,” she turned back to me “is Miss Eleanor Stafford, who is lately arrived from England.”
Lord Rupert bowed courteously and I curtsied. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stafford,” he said, also in French. “I would request the honor of your hand for the next dance.”
“Certainly, My Lord,” I replied, still in French, although I was itching to respond in German. Lady R. said what was proper and then left us to see to her other guests just as the current set finished its dance. The strains of the next song began and I was a bit thrown to realize that it was the last waltz before the ball was to adjourn for supper. That meant Lord Rupert would be my partner for the meal! I still cannot be sure if Lady R. planned it that way, or if he did, or if I am just making more out of coincidence than I should, but the thought was not disagreeable to me in the slightest, I assure you.
Glass Roses: A Victorian Fairytale Page 5
