Mrs. Wise was already in the hall. She was splendidly dressed. Her gold silk gown was matched by diamonds at her throat and wrist, and was set off by a powdered wig. To Susannah's eyes the wig looked old-fashioned, but it suited Mrs. Wise, adding a certain dignity to her air. Constance appeared behind her, dressed becomingly in a simple gown of blue cambric. She had resisted Susannah's efforts to provide her with something more luxurious, but had succumbed to the temptation to wear a wig.
"I know it is becoming less fashionable, but without one, at such a splendid gathering, I feel only half dressed," she said.
The maid fastened fur-lined cloaks over the ladies' gowns, then they went out into the December night. The air was crisp, and they hurried across the pavement to Mrs. Wise's elegant carriage.
"You must think about providing yourself with a carriage when you return to Cornwall," said Mrs. Wise, as they took their places and a footman closed the door behind them. "You cannot manage in a country neighbourhood without one. Unless I can persuade you to remain in London, that is."
"Perhaps I might," said Susannah, as they set off.
Harstairs House held painful memories for her, and she no longer looked forward to making her home there. Perhaps London, with its many distractions, would be more agreeable.
It did not take them long to reach Lady Eldermere's street, but then they had to wait in a queue of carriages. The going was slow, and it took some fifteen minutes for them to reach the front. Once there, they stepped out and arranged their skirts before sweeping up the broad steps to the open door. Liveried footmen stood there, resplendent in powdered wigs, and beyond them was a scene of brilliant gaiety. Ladies were colourful in their silk and brocade gowns, fluttering their fans and bobbing their heads as their ostrich feather headdresses swayed and danced. They were accompanied by gentlemen in satin coats and knee breeches, with rings winking from their fingers and lace spilling from their sleeves.
"Oh my!" said Constance, as they ascended the staircase.
"This is wonderful," said Susannah, whilst they waited on the landing until their hostess could greet them.
She looked about her and marvelled over the gilded mirrors and the thick carpet.
"I thought you would like it," said Mrs. Wise. "Ah! Dear Lady Eldermere! Might I present my protégé, Miss Susannah Thorpe?"
Lady Eldermere was an elegant woman built on statuesque lines. She was clothed in a magnificent brocade gown which was open to reveal a silk petticoat, and a powdered wig was set on her head. She held up her lorgnette and surveyed Susannah with interest.
"Caroline's great-niece, aren't you, gal?" she asked.
"That's right."
"You're a credit to her," she said, lowering her lorgnette.
There was time for no more. Lady Eldermere had other guests to greet, and Susannah's party moved on, passing through into the ballroom. Mrs. Wise had promised her she should dance only with elderly gentlemen at the ball, and was true to her word. Susannah found herself partnered by a succession of men old enough to be her father, and to her surprise she found she was enjoying herself. The stately dances were to her liking, and if her partners were not handsome, at least they did not pester her with their attentions. They talked of the size of the room and the splendour of the setting, of her impressions of London and her views on Cornwall, and when they had finished with these topics they complimented her gracefully on her gown and her hair.
Even so, as the evening drew on she became restless. Try as she might, she could not put Oliver completely out of her mind. His face kept intruding on her memory as a hundred small details of their time together occurred to her.
Could there have been some mistake? she asked herself, not for the first time. If not, why would he have visited her? He could hardly have expected to escape unscathed if he had pursued her at Mrs. Wise's house. Society might be more stringent in its standards for young ladies, but it was not entirely devoid of them for gentlemen.
But why would James have said it if it wasn't true?
"Might I have the pleasure of this dance?" came a quavery voice at her side.
Susannah lifted her head to see a gentleman of some eighty years of age, whose eyes were sparkling at her.
"I knew your great aunt, m'dear," he said, as she thanked him and took his hand.
He led her out on to the floor.
"She was a spirited girl," he said with a nostalgic air, as the music began, and he and Susannah performed the stately steps of the dance. "I remember thinking she'd marry Henry Harstairs. He was a mushroom, but he had a way with him, and Caroline always liked strong characters. Although Henry's character was too strong," he said with a sigh. "After their falling out he wouldn't make things right. Instead, he went abroad."
"What was their falling out about?" asked Susannah curiously.
"I don't know. Some misunderstanding, nothing more. Silly to let such a little thing come in the way of their happiness, but so it was. If only they'd talked about it. But they were headstrong, both of them."
Susannah found the noise of the ballroom starting to feel oppressive and she longed for the dance to be over.
Once it was, and her partner had escorted her to the side of the room, she made her excuses, saying she was going in search of the ladies' withdrawing room. She slipped out of the ballroom and into the corridor, looking for a quiet room in which she could retreat from the bright lights and the bustle for a few minutes. At the end of the corridor she found a small room lit only by the crackling flames of a fire. Away from the music and the lights she started to feel better. She would have to go back soon, but she could have a few minutes in which to compose herself. She went in, and walked over to the fireplace. It was a peaceful interlude, and soothed her spirits… until she heard the door opening behind her. She turned round, ready to explain her presence, and froze, as she saw that the person standing there was Oliver. He was dressed in blue satin, with a froth of lace at his throat, and his hair was tied back with a dark blue riband, but instead of being confident as he usually was, he was looking strangely vulnerable.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, feeling her limbs begin to tremble, although whether it was with anger or some other emotion she could not tell.
"I came to see you," he said.
"Then you will be disappointed."
He was standing between her and the door.
"I wish to leave," she said.
He did not move. Through the open door she heard faint strains of music, and the muted laughter of Lady Eldermere's guests.
"Stand aside," she said.
To her relief he took a step to the left.
"If you want to go, I won't stop you," he said.
Her way to the door was now clear. The brilliant light of the corridor beckoned her. She had only to walk past him and she could return to the ballroom, putting him behind her forever.
But something made her hesitate. His pose was so defenceless that it touched something deep inside her. He could use his strength to detain her, but he was not prepared to do it. He was giving her a choice, to leave or to remain.
She swallowed. "Very well," she said.
He closed the door. The light of the corridor disappeared. In the dim firelight she could not read his expression and she felt a shiver go through her. She was shut in with him.
"Susannah…" he began haltingly. "Susannah… I have to explain."
She waited, saying nothing.
He took a step towards her and she took a step back. He stopped.
"When I first met you, and heard you saying that you wouldn't marry me if your life depended on it, it's true that I was challenged by it," he began again. "I made up my mind then and there that I would make you want me, so I set out to charm you. But then something happened." His eyes lifted to hers. "I started to find out that you were not like other women, that you were trustworthy, and when I took you in my arms on the cliffs, I realized that I was in as much danger as you were. I decided to withdraw whilst I could.
But I found it was impossible. The more I came to know you, the more I came to love you, and I wanted to make you my wife. When I knew you wanted it, too…" His mouth lifted, and the candle flame caught the blue-ness of his eyes "… it made my spirits soar. But then came James's remark. It was true once, but a long time ago. To me, it seems a lifetime ago."
He stood there in the soft glow of the fire and candlelight, without moving. "I love you, Susannah. I love you so much it hurts. If you don't believe me…" His voice broke, but then he continued, "I offer you my hand and my heart, Susannah. If you want them, they are yours."
"And how am I to know you are being honest with me?" she asked, forcing her limbs to stop trembling. "On the night I arrived at Harstairs House I said I would never marry you. How do I know that making me accept your hand is not your final act of revenge?"
"You don't."
He said nothing more. He did not try and persuade her, and she knew he could have done. He could have reminded her of all the dangers they had shared. He could have taken her in his arms and driven all thoughts of everything else out of her mind. But he stood there, unmoving and vulnerable, isolated and waiting. He had tracked her down in London, found out where she was staying, tried to see her whilst she was under the protection of friends, then followed her to a ball when he could not see her in any other way. And as she stood there looking at him she knew he was everything she had ever wanted; and more, because the worlds he had shown her had been beyond her experience and even her imagination. And she could have him… if she took a leap of faith.
Could she take it?
She searched her feelings.
Yes, she could. She took a half step towards him, and he was across the room in the blink of an eye, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her with all the passion of his soul. She returned his kiss with fervour.
"I thought I'd lost you," he said, as at last they parted.
"For a time," she returned with a sigh.
"Can you ever forgive me?" he asked, stroking her face and searching her eyes with his own.
She smiled up at him.
"I already have done."
He put his arms around her and kissed her again, ten-derly this time, with all the promise of a lifetime of kisses to come.
Susannah responded — until she heard the click of the door opening.
"You were such a long time, I wondered if you were feeling all right," came a familiar voice. "One of the footmen saw you coming in here. Are you feeling—oh!"
Susannah pulled herself from Oliver's embrace and turned round to see Mrs. Wise, who was looking at Oliver with a formidable expression on her face.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.
"The meaning, dear Mrs. Wise," said Susannah with a happy smile, "is that we are going to be married."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Wise. Her shoulders relaxed and her eyes twinkled. "So this is Mr. Bristow!"
Amanda Grange lives in Cheshire, England, and has written many novels including Darcy's Diary and Captain Wentworth's Diary. Visit her website at www.amandagrange.com
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