by Anthea Bell
“Oh, good gracious, I quite forgot the time!” she exclaimed.
Mrs. Kemble, a lively, dark-haired woman whose voice held a pretty trace of French accent, made Elinor welcome, saying with a little severity that while she, her sister and her daughter Fanny had been very glad to make Miss Grafton’s acquaintance, it was not the thing for her to have been calling on strangers alone! Elinor agreeing whole-heartedly with this, Mrs. Kemble softened, and said with a smile, “But there! Girls will be girls, and now we are not strangers to one another! How delightfully she sings! Even my husband said as much, before he was obliged to go out, and he must be held to know! I am only sorry we could not help Miss Grafton further.”
Since the tilbury would not easily carry three of them home, Charley went to procure another hackney for Elinor and Persephone, and when, after an exchange of civilities with the Kemble ladies, they left Gerrard Street, Elinor sensibly forbore to reprove her charge for putting them all in a worry, saying only, “What very agreeable people!”
The slightly apprehensive look on Persephone’s face disappeared. She said fervently, “Oh yes! And do you know, Elinor, Fanny was at school in Bath too—only that was when she was quite small, and afterwards she went to continue her education in France. She is the most delightful girl, and excessively well-read, and she means to write plays as well as act in them—is not that clever? We got on famously, though I think her mama did not quite approve of me at first! But Fanny told me that Mrs. Kemble and her sister—that is Fanny’s Aunt Adelaide, who lives with them—are both very musical, and once I had played a sonatina, and sung, we all went on very well.”
“Well, it sounds to me as if Mrs. Kemble may have given you a little scold, so I won’t add another!” said Elinor, smiling. “But, my dear, what did she mean by saying they were sorry they could not help you further?”
“Oh, that ... Well, I merely wanted to—to make some inquiries, about concerts, and operas, and...”
“And performers?” said Elinor shrewdly, recollecting the remarks of the old man at the theatre, as well as Persephone’s intent interest in the members of the orchestra on the night they had heard Oberon.
“Yes, and the performers one might hear in London,” said Persephone in a rush, and hastened to change the subject. “Oh, and I must tell you that Fanny has the greatest admiration for Herr Weber—he dined with them, you know, when he first came to London, and if he did not have a wife and little children in Germany, Fanny says she would be in a fair way to falling in love with him, and she wears his picture in a locket round her neck!”
She chattered on in this manner until they had reached Upper Brook Street, and Elinor did not inquire any more closely into the nature of the inquiries she had wished to make, sensing that she would get no satisfactory answer, and fearing to lose Persephone’s confidence.
Lady Yoxford had no such scruples. On hearing that Persephone had gone, all alone, to call on a theatrical family, she seemed about to fall into that long-deferred fit of the vapours which she had expected Persephone to induce in her all along, and had to be swiftly reassured by Elinor as to the great propriety and superior education of the ladies they had just visited. But she could not understand why Persephone had gone there in the first place, and said so, repeatedly.
Somewhat to Elinor’s dismay, Grenville and Charlotte Royden called at this juncture. She might have expected it, their visits having become an almost daily event, but she would rather it had not been just now, since their arrival meant that Isabella went over the whole story again, exclaiming frequently that she did not know what inquiries Persephone might have to make that could not be more readily answered by application to—well, to wherever it was that plays and concerts were advertised. “I cannot help wondering why you felt you must go to Covent Garden yourself, Persephone!” she said yet again, plaintively.
Mr. Royden cocked a quizzical eyebrow at Miss Grafton. “Yes, why indeed?”
“I wished to obtain information,” said Persephone, distantly.
He was quick to note the reserve in her tone, and for once Elinor felt quite grateful to him, as he applied himself to the task of distracting Isabella’s mind by conversing with her on other subjects. But her gratitude quickly enough evaporated when, rather later, she saw that he had manoeuvred himself and Miss Grafton into the comparative privacy of one of the window embrasures, where they were talking in what looked like a playfully conspiratorial manner. As he and Charlotte took their leave, he said to Persephone, within Elinor’s hearing, “Well, count on me, Miss Grafton! If I hear of anything I will let you know-but mum’s the word!” And he made a comical grimace as he looked Miss Radley’s way.
As if I were some old dragon, she thought indignantly. But dragon or no, she knew it her duty to ask Persephone, when they were alone, “My dear, what was it Mr. Royden promised to let you know?”
“Only something about concerts,” said Persephone, a little sullenly.
Elinor could see no reason why such harmless information should be discussed in such confidential tones, but she forebore to say so. However, her doubts must have shown on her face, for as they climbed the last of the shallow stairs leading up to the landing and bedchambers on the second floor, Persephone said, acutely, “I thought you were great friends with all the Roydens—but you don’t like Mr. Royden, do you?”
“I don’t care for him as much as his sisters, certainly,” said Elinor cautiously. “Or as much as, say, Lord Conington, whose manners are so very pleasing!”
“So are Mr. Royden’s!”
Not to me, thought Elinor, remembering those little pinpricks Grenville seemed to enjoy inflicting on her when they met, but she could hardly say it out aloud. She slightly compressed her lips, and after a moment Persephone continued, with a little hesitation, “You-you see, there are things which he understands so well! He is so kind and friendly! I—I cannot go into detail, but he enters into so many of my feelings!”
“Very likely. ” Elinor could not keep the dryness from her voice.
Suddenly, Persephone gave her pretty trill of laughter. “Good gracious, Elinor dear, I do believe you are thinking I may fall in love with him, and because you don’t like him yourself, you don’t care for the thought of it! Oh, no, Elinor, it is no such thing—there is no danger of that, I do assure you, because while he is very agreeable company, my—”
But here she broke off, closing her mouth firmly upon whatever else she had been about to say, and leaving Elinor to complete the sentence to her own satisfaction—or otherwise, for what satisfaction was there in guessing that Persephone had been about to say, My heart is given to another, or, My affections are already engaged?
10
It was ironic, Miss Radley thought, that Lady Yoxford plainly considered an invitation to Persephone’s ball for the Roydens to be a particularly thoughtful attention to herself, Elinor, as Charlotte’s erstwhile governess and Grenville’s old acquaintance. The actual dispatch of invitations, together with the rest of the organization of the event, fell to Elinor’s own lot, and she very much wished she could quietly suppress the cards sent to Mr. and Miss Royden. Of course she could not; quite apart from the fact that her conscience would reproach her with depriving Charlotte of a treat, she was sure that Grenville would make some pointed, teasing inquiry into their absence from the list of guests as the day approached. By now, moreover, they were on terms of such intimacy with the family at Yoxford House that it would indeed have been a surprising omission.
For the ball was to be a large one. Elinor knew, from a chance remark of Isabella’s, that Sir Edmund was footing the bill. Pressure of business at the Foreign Office had obliged him to postpone his proposed visit to Bath and Cheltenham until after the occasion, which promised to be a magnificent one. Certainly, no expense was being spared! Gilt chairs were emerging from their holland covers in the ballroom, a seldom used but very magnificent apartment on the first floor of Yoxford House; chandeliers were washed and polished until they sparkled; the
walls of the ballroom were to be decked with flowers. All white, Elinor and Isabella had decided: quite the most suitable form of decoration to celebrate a young lady’s debut. Orders for sufficiently lavish quantities of white hothouse flowers must go out in good time, there were extra servants to be hired for the night of the ball and supper and refreshments to be arranged. The Yoxfords’ own cook, a very superior Frenchman who was paid the vast salary of a hundred and twenty guineas a year, was on no account to be offended, lest he give notice (for George Yoxford set store by the good table he kept). Monsieur Marcel, therefore, must not be put upon by being asked to do too much, or slighted by being required to do too little. Thus, another of Elinor’s tasks was to decide, in consultation with the cook himself and Beale the butler, what should be prepared in the kitchens of Yoxford House in the way of chicken and lobster patties, jellies and creams and confections of marchpane and spun sugar, and what should be ordered from an exclusive catering establishment outside. Ices would be from Gunter’s, of course, but how many? And what quantity of champagne and other wines ought to be provided, not forgetting lemonade and other innocuously thirst-quenching beverages for the younger or more abstemious guests? Beale assured Miss Radley that she might safely leave that to him, and she thankfully turned her attention to the rest of the arrangements.
This bustle of activity did to some extent take her mind off her anxiety about Persephone, and in the ordinary way she would have enjoyed it all very much. She had had a thorough grounding in the art of household economy during her years in Cheltenham, and to be able—indeed, encouraged—to turn her skill to the organization of a party where economy itself was apparently not to be regarded in the least was a delightful treat! But it did not blind her to the fact that, for some unknown reason, Persephone had ceased to enjoy her first London Season, and had lapsed into a kind of melancholy. Since an air of decided languor was all the rage just now, no one else seemed to notice. But Elinor did, and another source of concern was that, whereas she had previously enjoyed the child’s confidence, she now seemed to have lost it. She thought—and this troubled her—that it had been at least partly transferred to Mr. Royden, whose company was one of the few things that had power to raise Miss Grafton’s spirits. What was it they talked about, Elinor wondered, seeing Persephone discoursing with animation to an attentively sympathetic Grenville Royden? And why would Persephone no longer confide in her, too?
She did think, one day, that their former happy relationship was about to be resumed. Finding Persephone in the Yellow Parlour moping over an open book which she was not reading, Elinor ventured to put an arm around her shoulders and ask, very gently, what the matter was. Persephone leaned against her for a moment, and said in a very small voice, “It is only that—that the friends I made in Bath don’t answer my letters, or anything, and—and I miss them!” These last words came out as a little wail, and she shed a few tears before mastering her feelings and saying bravely, “Oh, dear me, I didn’t mean to cry, Elinor! Now I have stupidly crumpled that pretty fichu of yours! I’m tired after last night’s rout, and I dare say that puts me out of humour. It’s of no consequence!”
Elinor thought it was of consequence, but the moment had passed and did not return. She wondered if she were refining too much on Persephone’s apathetic moods. Could it be that she herself was actually jealous of Grenville Royden for winning the girl’s friendship away from her? After a little thought, she was able to absolve herself of any such base emotion. She would have been only too glad for Persephone to find another sympathetic confidant had it been someone trustworthy—but she could not find it in her to trust the motives of Mr. Royden.
At least no one could have suspected any ulterior motive in the guileless Charlotte’s friendship from Miss Grafton. As she and Royden drove from the Steads’ house on the evening of the ball, she was chattering happily of the pleasures she anticipated. “What fun it will be!” she artlessly exclaimed. “How I long to see Persephone’s gown! Elinor says it is the loveliest thing! I am sure, Grenville, nothing could have been more fortunate than meeting Elinor again, and making the acquaintance of all the family at Yoxford House, who are so very kind to me!”
Mr. Royden, less inclined to value the kindness of their new acquaintances than their potential usefulness, soon tired of these raptures, and snapped irritably, “So you have said above a dozen times before!” And when Charlotte fell silent, hurt but determined not to show it, he pressed home his point with a piece of brotherly advice. “I wish you would not repeat yourself so much—nothing makes a girl more of a bore! And do for God’s sake, Charlotte, make an effort not to be forever gushing on about some other chit’s perfections! Try for a little wit and sophistication of your own, so that you may interest some eligible gentleman! It cannot be wholly beyond you!”
Charlotte caught her breath with a little gasp and turned her head away, staring resolutely out of the window. They were both well aware that wit was not her strong point—and it was just a little hard, she thought ruefully, to have sophistication demanded of her in her very first Season. But of course it was her duty to find a husband as soon as she could; Grenville had made that very clear to her. It was a pity that no one else could quite measure up to Lord Conington, who was so kind and attentive, but who of course liked to talk to her only because she was a friend of Persephone’s. Still, she must endeavour to like some other gentleman—she was sure, she valiantly told herself, that Grenville had only her best interests at heart, and had not meant to wound her.
He had meant to do so, and now had the satisfaction of seeing that he had succeeded, though just why it gave him satisfaction he could hardly have said. The fact was that he expected a boring evening. He found Persephone tiresome, and the confidences he was gradually eliciting from her tedious in themselves, however useful they might prove some day. And the teasing and provocation of Miss Radley, from which he had maliciously expected to derive a certain pleasure, was not having exactly the effect he had hoped. There was something about the composure with which Elinor contrived to receive his remarks which put him out a good deal. After all, he thought, the past that lay between them was to her discredit, not his! In the circles in which he moved, a young man was rather to be admired for taking anything of that nature that offered, and a young woman censured for giving it. So she might at least appear a little more discomposed by the recollection of that episode! It was also annoying to sense that even had he renewed passionate court to her he would have met with a rebuff, and for no good reason! His conceit of himself was injured.
One way and another, therefore, Grenville Royden was out of humour, and not disposed to accept Charlotte’s well-meant peace offering when, recovering herself, she said in placatory tones, “Well, I am sorry, Grenville, and I will try to do as you say. I suppose I talk of Persephone a great deal because it is so pleasant to have made such a friend. Elinor says, you know, that Persephone chose the musicians who are to play tonight, and they are the best that can be found in London. And Elinor says—”
“Elinor says this, Elinor says that!” interrupted her brother, quite savagely. “Oh, the devil with Elinor!” Perhaps it was as well for the startled Charlotte’s peace of mind that they were just drawing up outside Yoxford House, and she instantly forgot her brother’s peevishness in her pleasurable excitement. They ascended to the ballroom, where the Yoxfords and Persephone stood at the head of the stairs to receive their guests to the strains of music, just as Elinor had promised. Whatever Miss Grafton’s other preoccupations, music still had power to charm her—Elinor was sure that recourse would never fail her—and the one part of the preparations for her ball in which she had taken a real and animated interest was the musical side of it. There was to be a band to play for the dancing, and a string ensemble to entertain the guests as they arrived and again during supper. Persephone had formed a very good notion of the comparative merits of the various fashionable bands and orchestras which she had heard at other parties, and readily gave her advice.
Isabella and Elinor, acknowledging the superiority of her ear for music, were equally ready to take it, and Elinor knew her choice had been a good one as soon as the stringed instruments softly began playing.
The wished-for sparkle was back in Persephone’s eyes tonight after all, whether brought there by the music, the excitement of the occasion, a consciousness of her own delightful appearance in her ball dress, or perhaps all three. The dress itself was charming, made of pure white silk embroidered with little forget-me-nots that becomingly echoed the blue of her eyes, and were prettily misted by an overdress of gauzy white aerophane. Blue satin ribbons ornamented waist and hem. Beside her, Isabella Yoxford was very fine in a gown of gros de Naples in her favourite deep rose-pink, with a heavy ornamentation of puckered rose crape, and she wore an evening beret of the same deep pink on her fair curls, tilted at a becoming angle and decked with a profusion of artificial flowers.
It soon became plain that the ball was destined to be a great success. By the time most of the guests had arrived, and Lord and Lady Yoxford were able to leave their post, Persephone had already taken the floor in the ballroom with a number of the most eligible young gentlemen of the ton.
“Everything is going on as well as ever I could have hoped! I am so glad you are here, my dear!” observed Isabella with satisfaction, making her way to Elinor’s side, and patting her hand in the friendliest way. “For what we should have done without you, I can’t think! Oh, how much I hope that when it is Maria’s turn to come out you will still be with us, and able to arrange things just as admirably for her.”
