A Fallen Woman (17 page)

‘Nonsense!’ He patted her cheek fondly. ‘Why shouldn’t you
waltz? You can hardly horrify our genteel neighbors any more than
they wish to be horrified. I am prepared to wager that they will
all be happy to oblige no matter what you do.’

Rachel could
only agree.

By ten o’clock, Thorncroft’s great ballroom was full and
music filled the air as dancers filled the floor. None had refused
an invitation to a place they had once frequented regularly,
obviously
disinclined to be left out of such a titillating event.
Secondhand gossip would never do and besides, it was
Charlotte
that was getting
married so it must be perfectly all right. Even the Dowager
Countess Hartley, who had been one of Rachel’s most fervent
detractors, had sent an acceptance, turning up in the widow’s weeds
she had been wearing since her husband had died thirty years
before, sharp dark eyes flickering around narrowly. Observing her,
Rachel wondered what the old tabby was expecting. Sin to be lurking
in the shadows? Wickedness behind the door? She had not heard even
a quarter of the gossip that had surrounded her shameful return to
Thorncroft but she knew it would have been savage.

She
stepped forward deliberately and smiled at the dowager, who looked
at her with as impassive an expression as such a wrinkled,
well-mapped face could manage.

‘
My lady,’ Rachel observed, curtseying politely. ‘How nice of
you to have come, especially when there is snow on the
roads.’

‘My coach is very well sprung and I have an excellent
supply of furs. I was entirely comfortable,’ the old woman
returned, eyes sweeping over Rachel and taking in every detail of
her appearance. The Dowager Countess might be eight and eighty
years of age but there was nothing wrong with her intellect. Just
her attitude. ‘Miss Sheridan, you look very
ripe
tonight.’

The
inflection and the unexpected word gave Rachel pause. She was
inclined to think it was not a compliment but she was determined to
treat it as such. ‘How very kind of you to say so,’ she purred,
then allowed her eyes to go beyond the dowager’s shoulder to the
faded, slightly stooped woman who hovered behind her. ‘And Lady
Hartley. That dress is very becoming, I must say.’ This was the
current, presiding Countess Hartley, a woman who had held the
positon for the past thirty years but was still unconvinced of her
right to it, thanks to a venomously dominant mother-in-law. Diana
Hartley must have been nearing fifty and bore a look of the
permanently harassed. Lady Sheridan had long held that, upon their
marriage, they should have shunted the Dowager Countess out of the
county, or at the very least made her move to a less prominent
position on the estate. Instead she had remained in the main house,
presiding over it as she had for the past sixty years, bullying her
children and their spouses like the tyrant that she was.

‘
Oh… thank you,’ Lady Hartley responded, flushing a little,
before adding in something of a rush. ‘It is good to see you, Miss
Sheridan. You look very well.’

The
observation earned her a disgusted grunt from the dowager but
Rachel ignored it, grateful for the genuine warmth in Diana
Hartley’s tone. Her mother-in-law was a different matter entirely
but obtaining the Dowager Countess’ good opinion was not high on
her list of achievements. Instead she smiled at Diana Hartley. ‘I
am very well, thank you.’

The
dowager was moved on by the press of guests at her back and so did
not have an opportunity to say anything scathing to this innocuous
greeting. With a black look at her daughter-in-law that promised
future words would be exchanged, she shuffled into the
festivities.

Welcoming their guests took some time.
Mama had placed her daughters to
her left, while Papa stood on the right, his sons – and future
son-in-law – beside him. It was unusual to have the entire family
on hand to greet the guests’ arrivals but Rachel was sure this show
of solidarity was supposed to send a message. Her mild, easygoing
parents could be very unequivocal when they wished to be and the
united front they presented would no doubt let the world – or at
the very least, their social circle – know that Rachel was still
very much an integral part of the family.

After forty minutes, they left any remaining stragglers to
their own devices and
went to mingle with the people that had flooded
both the ballroom and the adjoining drawing rooms. After only an
hour of mingling, Rachel’s face ached with maintaining the smile
that she had resolutely fixed into place. It had not wavered,
although sometimes it had been a struggle to keep it in
place.

If nothing else, she thought ruefully, she had a much
greater understanding of Society’s views on females who had
tarnished their good name.
And
how the majority of people treated those who they
considered pariahs. She was sure everybody had come with the
understanding that snubbing the eldest daughter while
congratulating Charlotte would be a social gaffe, but even the best
intentions must waver when faced with the reality of actually being
polite. Some found it harder to manage than others. Rachel had
several excruciatingly awkward conversations with people who were
clearly torn between their responsibilities as guests not to offer
insult or opinion and their desire to curl their lips at her in
distaste. The majority of these, she had observed, were
females.

The gentlemen posed a different, hitherto unexpected
problem.
Sheltered as she had been from the attentions of her
neighbors, she had not entirely understood her position, now that
she was considered sullied goods.

Unfortunately,
there were those gentlemen who thought they
understood very well. She had been wrong about nobody but her
brothers and father asking her to dance. Actually, she proved to be
a very popular dance partner. Men with whom she had danced at
assemblies, and had exchanged unexceptional conversation with at
dinners and balls, had ridden out with on the riding parties that
were so plentiful in autumn, now felt that they could insinuate all
manner of things to her while taking her for a turn around the
floor. Sir Linus Beaverbrook, an overblown and overbearing local
squire whose children had grown up with Rachel and her siblings,
had waggled his thick eyebrows at her while whispering hoarsely in
her ear, ‘You’re a mighty fine filly, if you don’t mind me saying
so, Miss Sheridan. I’ve got a stallion in my stables that you might
find interesting. I know very well that you like a good, hard
ride…’

She was
uncertain what his meaning might be, but very certain that she did
not wish to discover more. Instead she had deliberately taken a
misstep, landing hard on his toes so that he yelped like a fox kit.
He drew back a little to glare at her and she smiled
sweetly.

‘Oh I am
so
sorry. Did I stand on your foot? How very clumsy of
me.’

It had
afforded her a small amount of satisfaction to wound him and she
would have dearly liked to cause him a good deal more discomfort.
Unfortunately, giving her dance partner the slap he so richly
deserved was not possible, so Rachel contented herself with
becoming the most uncooperative dance partner she could possibly
be. Sir Linus did not have a good time.

He was
undoubtedly the worst and the crudest of her ‘admirers’ but there
had certainly been others.

Harold
Longley, previously an admiring suitor who had been far too
frequent a visitor to Thorncroft, had smirked at her knowingly
while asking if he might pay her a call. Or better yet, she might
like to walk out and meet him somewhere. No need to raise eyebrows
by letting anybody know their intentions, hey? She had no
intentions towards him whatsoever and told him so in no uncertain
terms.

Nigel Fennick,
a stammering young man with unfortunate skin and
overly moist hands, now held her far too tightly and swallowed
noisily while mumbling, ‘Mother said I m-must not d-dance with you
but r-r-really, it can’t be
that
bad. I mean, it’s not as if you’re g-going
to
corrupt
me on the d-dance floor.’

Rachel
grimaced. This time it was she who was trying to preserve her feet.
Mr. Fennick was a dreadful partner. ‘I might,’ she told him grimly.
‘Who can say? Even a mild association with me might turn you into a
reprobate beyond salvation.’

He
goggled at her, pale blue eyes wide. ‘N-no, do you t-think so? I
don’t quite s-see how that c-c-could be?’

‘No, neither do I, but your mother certainly seems to think
so and I suppose she has more experience in these things than we
do.
’

‘
Oh.’ He stared down at her, as if expecting her to perform a
feat of conjuring.

It had
been a very long five minutes before the dance had mercifully come
to an end. Rachel had received a hostile glare from Mama Fennick
when her little boy had returned Miss Sheridan to the sidelines and
had been tempted to drop a curtsey. She had restrained herself, but
she was thinking that if shy, awkward Nigel Fennick felt bold
enough to talk about corruption, then the rest of the male
contingent present was probably not to be trusted. She would refuse
any further requests to dance, lest she lose what little was left
of her temper and tell these would be Lotharios what she really
thought of them. Or better yet, she would tell their wives,
fiancées, or female relatives.

She was unsurprised when Richard Thursby approached. He had
come with his mother and father and his sister
Viole
t and
had spent the first half hour squiring his relatives around the
floor and speaking with George, with whom he had once been quite
close. She knew from their earlier encounter that it would only be
a matter of time before he appeared before her and, sure enough, he
finally dropped anchor before her.

‘Miss
Sheridan,’ he murmured, eying her hopefully, ‘may I have this
dance?’

Rachel
considered refusing him. Of all the local young gentlemen that had
once come courting, she had counted Richard a friend. She could
hardly blame him that he, like the rest of his social circle, had
not put in an appearance after her return to Thorncroft, but she
found that there was a part of her that did. There was a part of
Rachel that believed friendship triumphed over adversity. Or, in
her instance, outright scandal.

Knowing that
she was a fool for feeling any such thing, she gave him a small
smile. ‘Yes, of course.’

After she
had turned sixteen – when it was still a little over a year before
her presentation at court – she had accompanied her parents to many
a local assembly and most of the events put on by their neighbors
and had danced more frequently with Richard Thursby than with any
of the other hopeful gentlemen that solicited her favor, simply
because she liked him. He had been like another brother to her and,
while his devotion had been less than brotherly, she had blithely
overlooked it as he was wonderfully reliable and excessively
entertaining. So it was that, when they began to dance, there was a
sense of familiarity. Rachel could take no comfort from
it.

They danced for a time in silence before Richard spoke.
‘Miss Sheridan… Rachel, it was most for
tuitous that we met today. I have
often hoped that I would encounter you on my rides.’

‘
I do not usually ride in that area,’ Rachel responded
unhelpfully.

‘
No, well… the thing is, I have been thinking of paying a
morning call.’

Rachel looked
at him disbelievingly. ‘Is that so? When was that?’

‘
For this past month it has very much been in my
mind.’

‘And yet you did not appear.’ She knew she was being both
rude and unfair. Logically, it was ridiculous to have expected to
see Richard and it was certainly not her place to make him feel
wretched. It would be best to agree that that would have been very
pleasant before moving on to the usual bland subjects that were
safe to discuss; the weather, the state of the roads, the local
gossip. Except that she did not know any of the local gossip and
she felt too… too
irritated
with Richard to behave as she should.

‘No’ He was silent for a long moment. ‘But I should have
appeared long since, should I
have not?’

Rachel
gave a small, impatient shake of the head. ‘Of course you should
not have. Your parents would not have tolerated it for a moment. I
understand, Richard, it’s just that -’ she paused, uncertain what
to say. That he had hurt her must have been obvious, that he had
the right to do so even more so. She sighed. ‘It hardly matters
now, does it? Tell me about yourself. What have you been doing for
the past few years?’

Richard
grimaced. He was a good looking fellow who had been the object of
many a female’s speculation since returning from Eton. Rachel would
have been surprised to discover that he had not yet selected a
wife. At five and twenty and with so many prospects, it seemed
unlikely he would not have offered for some hopeful female.

‘
Nothing of any note. London and the usual amusements. I have
returned to spend more time at home now. Father has not been
particularly well and he is keen for me to start to get my head
around the workings of the estate.’