by Mary Balogh
Rebecca had not invited Mr. Bartlett's impressions of the visit. Indeed, she felt quite sorry that he had seen fit to confide in her on that previous occasion, though she knew he had done so not out of any malice, but out of concern for the safety of Harriet, whom he saw to be an impulsive and headstrong girl. However, he took the chair next to hers in the drawing room on the evening after the visit.
"You must be feeling sorry that you were from home this afternoon, Miss Shaw," he said quietly. "You would have found it interesting to compare your memories of Mr. Christopher Sinclair with the present reality."
She had not told anyone of her meeting with the two travelers on the previous afternoon.
"I must admit that I was pleasantly surprised," Mr. Bartlett continued. "He behaved with perfect correctness and displayed an admirable affection for his sisters. I sincerely hope that my fears were groundless. Perhaps the death of his wife aroused enough guilt in him to help reform his character. I hope, Miss Shaw, that you will not allow your behavior toward him to be influenced unduly by what I said on an earlier occasion. We should give him a chance, I believe."
"You need not fear that I shall treat Mr. Sinclair with anything less than strict courtesy," Rebecca assured him. "I do not expect to be much in his company, anyway, sir."
"No," he said, "I do not imagine, Miss Shaw, that you could do anyone the injustice of treating him coldly only because of what you had heard of him. I have not been blind, ma'am, to your gentleness and your concern for all people, the poor and unfortunate as well as the members of your family."
Rebecca blushed. "And were you previously acquainted with Mr. Carver?" she asked, embarrassed by the compliment, which he had uttered with such sincerity.
"He has long been a friend of Mr. Sinclair," he replied. "An amiable man. A follower rather than a leader. I believe you will find him friendly, Miss Shaw."
Rebecca did not join Lady Holmes and Harriet the next day when they took out the carriage and returned the visit. She was invited to do so by Maude, but she made an excuse to avoid the outing. She would wait for the dinner party, when her next meeting with Christopher Sinclair would be unavoidable.
***
Philip too had been invited to dine at Limeglade. Rebecca suspected the hand of Maude in that particular invitation. But she was glad. The presence of her betrothed would give her the moral support to face a difficult situation.
She was in the drawing room with her uncle and aunt when the Sinclairs arrived. Harriet, as usual, was late getting ready. Rebecca suspected that on this occasion she had deliberately decided to make an entrance when everyone was already present. Mr. Bartlett too had not yet put in an appearance.
The baron greeted his neighbors with his usual air of well-mannered condescension. Friendly as he was with the Sinclairs, they were always made to feel the social distance between the two families. He always made it subtly obvious that he was conferring a great honor by being on such familiar and intimate terms with them. Maude's greeting was warmer than her husband's despite her shy manner.
"Mrs. Sinclair," she said, "how delightful it is to see you at our house again. Indeed, you do not visit us near as often as I could wish."
"Well, your ladyship," that matron replied, "I always seem to be so cozy with my own company that I rarely think of going out. It must be the laziness that comes with advancing age. I always welcome visitors to my own home." She took the seat that Maude indicated, lowering her considerable bulk into the comfortable upholstery.
Lord Holmes meanwhile was talking to the gentlemen while Ellen and Primrose hovered in the vicinity of their elder brother, who was looking remarkably handsome in dark blue satin evening coat and knee breeches and silver waistcoat.
Primrose caught his arm and turned him in the direction of Rebecca. "Oh, Christopher," she said, "You have not yet met Miss Shaw. She knew you before you married Angela. And she said that all the girls used to be in love with you because you were so handsome.'' She giggled up into his face.
Rebecca flushed hotly and curtsied. "Good evening, sir," she said, resisting the temptation to deny hotly what Primrose had said.
"Brat!" Christopher said with a grin at his sister. "Miss Shaw is by far too well bred to have said any such thing. She might have told you with some truth, though, that she was a remarkably pretty girl who attracted her own share of admiration." He turned his attention to Rebecca and bowed. "Good evening, Miss Shaw. I hope you did not exhaust yourself with your walk the other afternoon?"
"Oh, you have met before then?" Primrose said, pulling a face.
Mr. Carver too turned in her direction at that point, much to Rebecca's relief. "G'd evening, Miss Shaw," he said with the same polite smile he had given her at their first meeting.
Her impression of him on that occasion, though, as a soft, fat man, was quite erroneous, she could see now. He was indeed an enormous man-a veritable giant, in fact. There was far more muscle than fat, though, filling out his lavender satin coat and gray knee breeches. His shirt points were as high and stiffly starched as those she remembered.
Harriet, Philip, and Mr. Bartlett all arrived in the drawing room at almost the same moment. Harriet's big entrance, if indeed she had planned such, was certainly ruined. But Rebecca was relieved that she was released from the necessity of making further conversation with Christopher. She had been a remarkably pretty girl, he had said to Primrose. It was a two-edged compliment. Had he really thought of her as unusually pretty? But what did his words suggest about her now? That she was a faded creature, so far beyond that time when she had been pretty that
Primrose had had to be told? Rebecca gave herself a mental shake and smiled at Mr. Bartlett, who had crossed the room to her side as Christopher turned to greet Harriet and Philip.
It was an interesting evening, Rebecca decided later. Philip led her in to dinner and it was a relief to be seated beside him, where she felt perfectly comfortable and could observe the behavior of those around her. She was interested to observe that Christopher studiously avoided any contact with Mr. Bartlett both during the meal and afterward. He behaved much as if the other man were not present at all. She had expected to see some evidence of discomfort or guilt in his manner, but there was nothing.
For his part, Mr. Bartlett had made the effort to bow gracefully in the direction of both Christopher and Mr. Carver when he entered the drawing room. When he was ignored, he crossed the room and talked to Rebecca until dinner was announced, smiling at her in a rather pained manner.
"I do hope no one else noticed the hostility of Sinclair's manner," he said. "I would not wish anything to spoil the pride Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair clearly feel in their son. I shall stay away from him, Miss Shaw, and then his lack of manners will not be observed by anyone else. I will concede that finding me here on close terms with his family and neighbors must be something of a shock to him."
Rebecca glanced, troubled, across to where Christopher was talking to Harriet, all courteous attention. Yes, it must be a shock for him to find someone who had known his wife and his treatment of her. "I think you are wise, sir," she said to Mr. Bartlett.
And Mr. Bartlett, to his credit, carried out his plan and seated himself as far away from his adversary as he could during dinner. Afterward, in the drawing room, he hastened to make up a table of cards with the baron, Mrs. Sinclair, and Ellen.
Rebecca could see throughout the evening that Mr. Bartlett well understood his man. He had been wise after all to speak to her. Christopher led Harriet in to dinner and sat beside her. They were seated across the table from Philip and her, yet the conversation never included all four. Occasionally Philip made the attempt to converse with them, and Christopher always answered him, keeping his eyes on Philip only. But always he turned back immediately to Harriet, to whom he devoted his whole attention.
Rebecca tried not to listen. She tried to give her attention to Philip on her right and Julian on her left. Yet she could not be unaware of the pair at the other side of the table. H
is manner was not as bright and eager as it had used to be. It was quieter and infinitely more charming. In one swift glance across at him while he was answering one of Philip's questions, she was again made aware of the firmness of his jaw and the sternness of his face. There was a new intensity in his blue eyes, she noticed, as he turned his gaze back to Harriet.
She had recognized him instantly on the road the day of his arrival, yet she was aware now that he was a different man from the one she had known and loved seven years before. This was a man one would not want as an enemy. There was something almost dangerous about him. And he was taken with Harriet; that was clear to see. There was nothing necessarily bad about that, of course. If he really fancied her, there was every chance that he would behave honorably. She was, after all, the daughter of an old family friend. She was also pretty and wealthy and of superior rank to his own.
But she was not at all sure that Harriet would be able to cope with a man of his obvious experience. For all her confidence and headstrong behavior, Harriet was really just an innocent, Rebecca believed. She could handle with ease the attentions of a boy like Julian. But could she handle the practiced dalliance of a man like Christopher Sinclair? Rebecca thought with misgiving about that failed elopement that she gathered Harriet had attempted during her stay in London. She was not sure that the girl had developed any greater maturity since that time.
Yes, she decided, Harriet would definitely need watching in the coming days and weeks.
The pair still stayed together when the gentlemen joined the ladies after dinner. He followed her to the pianoforte and turned the pages of the music while she played and sang to him. Her cousin was excited by his attention, Rebecca could see.
Her own attention was finally taken by Mr. Carver, who seated his bulk beside her and proceeded to engage her in conversation. "I understand that you have begun a school in the village, Miss Shaw," he said, his head twisted awkwardly against the high points of his collar.
"Yes, sir," she replied. "The Reverend Everett and I worked toward that goal for a long time. We consider it a worthwhile project."
"Oh, quite so, quite so," he said. "Reminds me of m'mother. Always up to something new. Last thing I heard, she had all the tenants' daughters coming to the house to learn needlework. We'll have a town full of dressmakers before we know it." He laughed, a great rumble of sound that seemed to come from deep inside him.
"I do admire her efforts," Rebecca said, smiling and warming to this young man. "I would so like to teach the girls of the village, too, but Philip is wary. I suppose it is better to move slowly and get the boys' school well established first."
"Well, I'd press the point if I were you, Miss Shaw," he said. "Never could understand why learning is considered unnecessary for females. I cannot abide a silly, empty-headed girl m'self."
"Oh," Rebecca said, turning to him and smiling mischievously. "I shall have to turn you loose on Philip, Mr. Carver."
"No," he said. "Would have to bring m'mother here to do that. Carries all before her like a tidal wave. That's what Sinclair always says, anyway. They get on like a house on fire, m'mother and Sinclair. Both strong-willed. Fortunately for m'peace of mind, they agree on most topics."
"Indeed?" Rebecca said with some skepticism. She could not somehow see Christopher sitting in the midst of tenants' daughters, applauding their efforts with the needle.
Philip was standing beside the table that held the tea tray, talking to Maude. She was flushed and looking up at him, great respect written large on her face. Somehow Maude had come to believe that Philip was next only to God in holiness. Almost every Sunday she spoke admiringly of his sermon; she credited him with having been the main promoter of the school; she praised his efforts to treat the poor and the sick with even more deference than he showed the gentry; and she noticed when his surplice was patched.
Rebecca could never understand why Philip seemed always to disapprove of Lady Holmes. It disturbed him that she had married the baron, though Rebecca had pointed out to him on more than one occasion that Maude had probably had no say whatsoever in the matter. He felt contempt for the fact that she always played the lady, riding everywhere in a carriage, sitting in a padded pew at church, playing at visiting the sick once a month. Again Rebecca had tried to defend her aunt. She really had no freedom to behave otherwise, she explained to him. Would he have Lady Holmes be a disobedient wife?
And Philip criticized Maude's lack of control over her stepdaughter. He made no allowances for the fact that Harriet was a mere three years younger than Maude, and that she was a girl who had always been allowed her own way. His disapproval showed now, Rebecca thought. He stood beside Maude, looking very handsome with his slim height and blond good looks. But he looked unyielding. He was talking to Maude, yes, and giving her his full attention. But there was no warmth, no charm in his manner.
Rebecca sighed inwardly, while holding the thread of her conversation with Mr. Carver. Marriage to Philip was not going to be a smooth and comfortable experience. He found it so hard to make allowances for people's weaknesses. He appeared to have none of his own. He really was a remarkably dedicated and hardworking man. He had a great deal of self-discipline. Perhaps it would have been to his advantage if he did have a weakness. It might make him more sympathetic to the shortcomings of others.
Julian and Primrose wandered over to the pianoforte to watch Harriet play, Julian leaning on the instrument and watching her face. It must have been his idea that they organize a dance, because he was the one who claimed Harriet first as a partner. The group playing cards was eagerly commanded to stop as the services of Mrs. Sinclair were required as accompanist. Anyway, the table would have had to be moved so that the carpet could be rolled back a sufficient amount to allow several couples to dance.
They all danced several country dances except Mr. Sinclair, who suffered from the gout, and Lord Holmes, who declared that such physical exertion would be bad for his health. Rebecca danced with Mr. Bartlett and with Philip. She had danced on a few previous occasions with her betrothed and had found him surprisingly graceful on his feet. She would almost have expected that he would disapprove of dancing, yet he considered it an acceptable social pastime.
Harriet was soon flushed with excitement. Christopher, Julian, and Mr. Bartlett had all vied for her hand as a partner. She turned to Mrs. Sinclair at the end of the third set.
"Do let us have a waltz," she said. "I have not waltzed since Papa and I were in London, and it is a quite divine dance."
"But I don't know how," Ellen and Primrose chorused almost in unison."
"No, really, Harriet," Julian protested. "Most of us here have never even seen the waltz. You would have to dance almost alone."
"I have heard that it is all the rage in London," Philip said. "I must say it sounds like a quite improper dance. I consider it not quite appropriate to the present gathering, Miss Shaw."
"Nonsense!" that young lady retorted, tossing her head with disdain. "Everyone in London does it. Even Prinny. I wish to waltz. Mr. Sinclair, shall we show everyone how it is done?" She smiled dazzlingly at Christopher and held up her arms, inviting his partnership.
"Perhaps we should call on Lady Holmes to act as arbiter," he said, smiling at Harriet and then turning and bowing in the direction of Maude. "Will you permit waltzing in your drawing room, ma'am?"
Maude flushed. "Indeed, sir," she said, "I have never danced the waltz myself. I was in London for such a short time before my marriage that I never had a chance to be approved by the hostesses of Almack's. But I have seen it danced, and I consider it to be very graceful and proper. I should be honored to see it performed in our home."
Christopher smiled at her, and the smile reached right to his eyes and crinkled their corners. Rebecca felt her stomach lurch. For a moment he had looked exactly like the old Christopher-warm and friendly.
"Come then, Miss Shaw," he said, turning back to Harriet. And the expression was gone, Rebecca saw with relief. "Let us walt
z and give a lesson to those who do not know the dance. And then everyone can take the floor and try it. How do you like the role of dance mistress?"
Mrs. Sinclair began to play a tune that fit the rhythm of the waltz and Christopher took one of Harriet's hands in his and clasped her waist with the other. She placed her free hand on his shoulder. Rebecca felt her cheeks flush hotly, and she stepped back so that she was partly shadowed by the giant figure of Mr. Carver. But she could not keep her eyes from the couple as they twirled gracefully around the very small dancing space that had been cleared. It was a graceful dance, and both partners moved with lightness and confidence. But it was also an intimate dance. She might have felt quite faint had it not been for Christo-
pher's voice counting the rhythm, explaining the steps and the movements to his small audience.
"Now," he said as the music came to an end and he and Harriet laughingly acknowledged the applause around them, "it is time for everyone to try. There are only two points to remember: count in threes, preferably in time to the music, and try to keep your feet from beneath those of your partner."
He smiled and turned to Maude. "Will you try it, ma'am?" he asked. "I promise not to tell the patronesses."
While Maude protested and gave in to the temptation to try a dance she had always admired, Mr. Bartlett appropriated Harriet, Julian grabbed Ellen, and Mr. Carver turned to Rebecca.
"Would you care to try, Miss Shaw?" he asked. "I assure you I've done it before. Nothing to it, really."
Rebecca laughed nervously. "I am not at all sure I shall do well, sir," she said, "but I am willing to try."
