“The father is a famous artist,” Mrs. Worth said. “With a show at the Royal Academy. That must be what she meant.”
“Mrs. Massingham was vastly pleased with his lordship, said he’s prodigiously civil.”
“So she’s met him already,” said Mrs. Worth with a pout. “I have not, have you?”
“No, not yet,” admitted Mrs. Shelby. After a moment’s pause, she suggested, “Didn’t you say you needed to speak with Mister Hinson about that ribbon? The color not matching the previous spool?”
“Indeed, I did!” Mrs. Worth exclaimed. “No time like the present, is there?”
“No, indeed,” Mrs. Shelby agreed. “Why don’t I come with you?”
“Just let me get that spool and my bonnet and reticule and we’ll be on our way.”
Within moments, the two ladies had sallied forth into the High Street.
The squire encountered the walking party on the village green. “Ah! Well met, Lord Charles!” Sir Robert beamed at Charles and his companions, and Charles performed the introductions. Sir Robert said, “Delightful! Delightful indeed. Company is always welcome, eh?” He turned to Lord Charles and added, “I believe you have already received my wife’s invitation to dine with us tomorrow? It goes without saying that the invitation includes her ladyship and the captain.”
“How charming!” cooed Lady Clara. “And of course we’d be delighted to attend. Isn’t that right, Hector?”
“Delighted, oh, yes m’dear.”
“And what about the lad?” Sir Robert asked Lord Charles. “Is he going to dinner parties yet?”
Charles caught the imploring look Han cast him. “Alas, no,” he told the squire. “His sister the Duchess believes that young Han is still some years away from taking part in adult entertainments.”
“Ah well,” the squire said. “Never mind, young man. You’ll have years to be an adult after all.”
“That’s all right,” Han said indistinctly.
Seeing two elderly ladies approaching on their errand to the haberdashery, Sir Robert doffed his hat and waved it in a beckoning motion. “Dear ladies!” To Charles, he added, “I must make you known to two of our staunchest pillars of the community. Mrs. Shelby, Mrs. Worth, have you met Lord Charles Ramsey?”
The ladies professed themselves delighted to make Charles’ acquaintance, and he spoke with them for several minutes, responding easily to their exclamations and coos, effortlessly winning their hearts.
As the conversation concluded and the groups went their separate ways, Charles murmured to Han, “Did I interpret that look correctly? I assumed it was not your ambition to attend the squire’s dinner party?”
“Absolutely correctly,” Han said, “and quite relieved I was.”
“I thought so,” Charles said with satisfaction. “I remember when I was your age. Attending adult entertainments was not high on my list of desires.”
“We’re invited to dine at the Hall,” Katherine said at breakfast that day.
“Oh, how nice,” said Aunt Alice. “When?”
“Tomorrow,” Katherine replied, reading further.
“May we?” asked Helen, bouncing a little in her chair.
“It sounds like an actual dinner party, though Lady Fordice says it is not,” Katherine mused.
Aunt Alice blinked. “It’s a dinner party though it isn’t?”
“Judge for yourself,” Katherine said. “The invitation is written in Julia’s hand, and invites us to a dinner party. But Lady Fordice has added her own note below, and she says, ‘Katherine, do say that you and Alice will attend, and bring Helen with you. This is not precisely a party, so you shouldn’t feel barred by your mourning or Helen’s age from coming. We’re merely getting together in an informal way with some of our closest friends and of course our new friends at the Manor. Do come, my dears.’ So you see. It’s a party and yet it’s not.”
“And Lord Charles will be there!” Helen squealed. “Oh, please, Katherine, dearest, dearest Katherine, say that we may go!”
Katherine looked across the table to Aunt Alice. “What do you think?”
“I think there’s something distinctly underbred about Pauline Fordice, Lady or no,” Alice said. “ ‘Our closest friends and new friends at the Manor’, indeed! She obviously intends to annex Lord Charles and run him for all he’s worth. But as for the invitation, I see no impropriety in our attending. We’ve dined at the Fordices a number of times since your dear Papa died.”
“Yes,” said Helen eagerly, “and now that we’re in half-mourning, how much less reason to choose to stop away.”
Katherine considered. On the one hand, the entertainment was obviously of a larger nature than any they had attended since their mourning began. But on the other hand, it wasn’t as if it were a ball or a public assembly. And she could see that the others were firmly on the side of attending, so she said, “You’re right. A private dinner, party or not, among people we already know, is not something that could be disparaged by even the most critical. Jack, I’m afraid you will dine in solitary splendor.”
Jack shrugged indifferently. “I might have Inky come over, we’ll find something to do.”
In the end, over twenty people graced the table at the Hall the next evening, much to the satisfaction of Sir Robert and his lady. In addition to the parties from Greymere and Rosebourne, the Massinghams and the Smythes were in attendance, with their young people.
Three courses were served, beginning with a turtle soup, alongside a haunch of venison, a boiled turkey, and a stuffed turbot. The second course featured a green goose, as well as a smothered ham, a roast of beef, and partridges. Finally, the sweets included a trifle, candied peaches, and cunningly designed pastries.
Katherine, seated between the vicar and Captain Fernley, marveled at the Captain’s capacity for consuming a prodigious quantity of food, all the while maintaining an easy flow of small talk. This evening he sported cream-colored knee-breeches, a coat of dark blue, and a cravat of astonishing height and complexity. Numerous fobs and seals dangled from his waistcoat, and he deployed a quizzing glass to humorous effect. Katherine was surprised to find him a man of more sense that his appearance would lead her to expect.
Tentatively, she asked him for any Waterloo memories that he might care to share. He replied with an easy laugh and a shake of the head. “You’re asking the wrong man, ma’am, for I was wounded the first day, and spent the rest of the battle as baggage, mere baggage. No, Charlie is the fellow if you want to know about the battle, for he was here, there, and everywhere, so energetic that it fatigues me to even think of it. Isn’t that right, Charles?” For the Captain had noted early on that the Fordices did not maintain the more formal dinner etiquette that dictated that diners might only speak with those to their left and right. A more general conversation was the rule, often across the table, though from end to end was too far to be practicable.
Across the table, Charles looked up and smiled. “Captain Fernley,” he told his near neighbors, “was where he needed to be when he needed to be there, at a time when it was most critical to be there because too many others were not. As for me, and as with all battles, I only saw my own little corner of the battle at any one time and had no idea what was happening in the overall picture.”
“Very true,” confirmed Captain Fernley. “One just had to hope that Old Nosey knew what was happening; he always did, of course.”
The lower end of the table was having a stirring debate and the subject of it soon reached the head. Further down were the younger members of the party, and among them it seemed good to suggest dancing after dinner. “Not a formal dance, by any means,” Julia transmitted to her mother. “Just a few couples in the drawing room.”
Lady Fordice seemed uncertain, but the squire gave a hearty laugh. “Young people always want to dance, my dear, and why not? Why not, I say.”
“But we’ve no musicians,” Lady Fordice pointed out. “I suppose someone might play the pianoforte?”
She looked down the table, but the young ladies seemed reluctant to meet her eyes. Playing an instrument was seen as almost a requirement for a young lady’s education, and every young lady present that evening was quite capable of playing a few dance tunes on the pianoforte. But of course, playing would mean that they were not dancing, and they all wanted to dance, especially if Lord Charles took the floor.
Katherine felt a trifle vexed, for she knew that Helen would want to dance and that Aunt Alice would not want to prevent her from doing so, but it struck Katherine as a bit unseemly, still in half-mourning as they were. But to protest would merely be to make a scene and embarrass everyone, so she gave in with a good grace, and even offered to provide the musical accompaniment. Julia beamed at her gratefully.
Accordingly, when the men joined the ladies in the drawing room, and footmen had been tasked to roll up the carpet, Katherine made her way to the piano and began sorting through the sheets of music. She was soon joined by Lady Clara, who sat beside her on the piano bench and said, “I shall turn the pages for you, and try not to feel too blue.”
“Why would you feel blue?” Katherine asked.
“Because I dearly love to dance, but Doctor Knighton tells me I mustn’t,” explained Lady Clara. “Walk, he insists, walk and more walk, but no dancing.” She drooped at the bench and gave an attractive pout. “And I do so love to dance, though I’m not overfond of walking.”
“Perhaps you should think of your walk as a dance, only a dance that goes in only one direction,” Katherine suggested.
Clara sat up. “A dance in one direction! Are you being droll? I do believe you are. I think you are the drollest creature!”
“Am I?” asked Katherine in some surprise. “If I am, no one has informed me.”
Lady Clara laughed and clapped her hands. “You are! You are excessively droll! Oh, we’re going to be great friends, I just know it.”
Four couples stood up for a cotillion, a quadrille, and a country dance. Katherine played the musical accompaniment and Lady Clara interrupted her own chatter to respond to Katherine’s imperative nod and turn the page. Lord Charles found himself dancing with Julia Fordice (who had indeed finally received her introduction), and then with the eldest Massingham and Smythe girls. He bore it all with patient good humor, though he was relieved when Lady Fordice called for an end to the dancing after the country dance.
“That’s quite enough, my dears, and thank you, Katherine,” she said. “But I’m sure we all would like our coffee now, would we not?”
The younger members of the party could of course have danced until dawn, but they were overborne by their seniors, and the entertainment broke up at what a Londoner might consider an unfashionably early hour.
Assessments of the squire’s dinner party began as soon as the carriages were shut up to take the participants home. At the Hall, Julia was quite content, for she had danced with Lord Charles and neither Katherine nor Helen could say that. He had spoken with her quite civilly and complimented her dancing. Lady Fordice was pleased and proud, as the fashionable Fernleys had praised her cook, and Lady Clara had allowed herself to be taken aside for a consultation and agreed with her that a dance in the large central hall might indeed be called a ball. Sir Robert had the simple contentment of a man who wanted nothing more complicated from life than good friends around the table and good food upon it.
In the coach traveling to Greymere, Lady Clara looked over at her brother and said, “Well, Charles?”
“Well what?” he asked.
“Have you met her yet? Were any of your dance partners the lady you might find anywhere?”
Charles smiled at her. “Early days yet,” he told her. “I can’t say that any of my dance partners struck me as marriage material, if that’s what you’re asking. I certainly can’t imagine facing any of them across the breakfast teacups.”
“Well, they are certainly imagining it,” Clara told him. Seeing his look of surprise, she said, “My dear brother, are you genuinely unaware that you are a catch?” Charles gaped at her and Clara gave a crow of delight, elbowing her husband who had fallen into a light doze. “Hector!” she cried, “Charles doesn’t realize that he is a catch!”
“Huh?” mumbled Hector, before catching up with his lively wife. “What? A catch? Bound to be, old fellow. There’s the land, the title, plus you’re devilish plump in the pocket. A fine figger of a man, too.”
“Hmm, I believe you’re right,” Lady Clara said, examining Charles with narrowed eyes. “I’m so used to thinking of my little brother as a miserable little scrap of a thing, but look at you now, Charles! Why, you’ve grown positively handsome.”
Charles shifted uncomfortably and said, “Well, catch or no, I’m no closer to being engaged this evening than I was the last evening. But I’m in no particular hurry.”
“You needn’t be,” Clara said easily. “As for myself, I had a splendid time and made a new friend. Miss Katherine Rose is a very elegant lady; the squire’s young ladies should take lessons from her. I am glad to see such wit and elegance in a country neighborhood.”
“Han says she’s clever,” Charles offered.
“Oh, she is! Most prodigious clever!” Clara agreed.
The Captain laughed. “And how would you know that?” he wondered. “If she said a word for every twenty of yours, I’d be mightily surprised.”
“Oh, tal-lal,” said her ladyship with unimpaired good humor. “You are being monstrous unfair to me, but I shan’t regard it. I find Miss Rose to be a most agreeable lady, and I intend to take her up. New acquaintance is always so stimulating, don’t you think?”
“If she’s agreeable,” said Charles with a note of skepticism, “then that will be all to the good, because it’s quite likely that she will be the vicar’s wife before too much longer.”
“The vicar’s wife!” exclaimed Clara, pouncing on this bit of news. “Indeed, the vicar’s wife…” She tapped her cheek with her forefinger, considering. “Yes,” she said at last, “it will do very well, because they’re both quite sensible and good-natured creatures. And she is not at all prudish or censorious, or I would have shocked her, you know the way I run on.”
In this she was wrong; she had indeed shocked Katherine, but Katherine had too much self-control to show it.
In the Roses’ carriage, Helen decried the cessation of the dancing, which prevented her from attaining her ambition to dance with Lord Charles.
“Just as well,” said Katherine. “You danced three dances with local boys you’ve known all your life, and that was quite enough, with you not yet out. Dancing with a virtual stranger wouldn’t do.”
“If there’d been one more dance,” Helen said, unheeding. “You could have played one more tune.”
“Lady Fordice herself called an end to the dancing!” Katherine exclaimed. “Would you have wanted me to be in open rebellion against our hostess?”
“That’s right,” Aunt Alice said. “If you must blame someone, blame her ladyship. But three dances, impromptu, at the end of the dinner party, was as much as anyone could expect. Now, no more complaining, Helen, it’s most unattractive.”
Helen subsided with a pout, and Alice turned her attention to Katherine. “What did you think of Lady Clara?” she asked. “Such a fashionable woman, and she spend most of her time after dinner with you.”
“She’s quite good natured and humorous,” Katherine said. “I think she rather shocked me. I’m not used to ladies speaking about their ‘interesting condition’ so freely, especially in mixed company. I was unable to decide if Lady Clara is a very bold woman, or if I’m just a country bumpkin shocked by city manners.”
“Perhaps a bit of both,” suggested Aunt Alice. “While it is true, from what I have heard, that London manners are freer than what we are accustomed to, we must also realize that Lady Clara has a wider latitude that comes from great rank. I’m sure that even in London, a mere Miss who spoke as Lady Clara does would be disparaged as too coming, even br
assy, but what would be rated impertinence in a Miss Smith would be considered refreshing candor when coming from a duke’s daughter.”
Helen stared. “That’s so unfair!” she exclaimed.
“And so is life unfair,” Aunt Alice told her. “I’m sure that Lady Clara is a charming woman, well-meaning and all that is amiable, but I would not like to see my nieces take her as their model for how to behave in public.”
“I doubt if we’ll have the opportunity,” Katherine said. “While Lady Clara said that she and I were to become great friends, I take that as city conversation and not to be taken literally.”
In this, she did Lady Clara an injustice, as she learned the very next afternoon, when Lady Clara had herself driven to Rosebourne and swept in demanding that Katherine walk with her in the shrubbery while she practiced dancing in one direction.
Katherine felt a flush of panic to learn that her offhand suggestion was being taken so seriously. She had a horrid mental image of Sir William Knighton, the august physician whose patients included the Prince Regent himself, bearing down upon her and demanding in biting accents to know by what right she felt qualified to countermand his instructions to his patient.
“Remember,” she stammered, “If Doctor Knighton doesn’t wish for you to dance, there must be something in the dance moves that he considers injurious, perhaps twisting or bowing. But the promenade portion of the dance, that seems to me to be indistinguishable from walking, except in the flourishes.”
“Excellent!” said Lady Clara. “I’ve been told I promenade most gracefully. Come along, Katherine, we must try it out.”
Accordingly, Katherine donned her bonnet and the two proceeded to the shrubbery near the house, where a series of graveled walkways gave the young ladies of the house a comfortable and attractive area to take the air and obtain some gentle exercise. Lady Clara demonstrated her promenade, and Katherine couldn’t help laughing. It was indeed impressive, as Lady Clara advanced in a regal fashion, one hand held daintily in the air, and as she moved, she bestowed queenly nods on the witnessing vegetation.
Katherine, When She Smiled Page 9
