A Sister's Secret (26 page)

‘Sir – Your Highness—’ Annabelle, startled by his sudden arrival, was flushed and uncertain.

‘Excellent. Come, then.’ He took her hand and placed it on his arm. Mesmerized, Annabelle advanced with him.

‘Caroline, shall we be left out?’ said Mr Wingrove. ‘No, we shall not, if you will do me the pleasure of standing up with me again.’

‘Thank you, Mr Wingrove,’ said Caroline.

The orchestra soared into a rich extravaganza of rhythmic music, and the gavotte became an exhilarating performance. Its original capering movements had been developed into more graceful form, but it was just
as active a dance. Gowns whisked to the quick turns of bodies, heads went back and laughing faces were turned upwards to partners.

‘Oh, how famous,’ gasped young Emma Winthrop, ‘I am beside myself with joy.’

‘I ain’t precisely doleful myself, I hope,’ said the easy-moving captain.

‘Oh, I think you quite beautiful,’ breathed Emma, circling, ‘I adore you.’

‘Already?’

‘At first sight,’ said the precocious girl.

‘An illusion, my child.’

‘No, I am quite grown up.’

‘You ain’t, young madam, no, not at all, but that don’t signify you aren’t delicious, for you are, and therefore if you don’t behave I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to Lady Chesterfield for your own good.’

Head back, she laughed. ‘Oh, should you take such hold of me, I’d die of bliss,’ she said. ‘When do you kiss me?’

‘When the moment arrives I’ll peck your cheek,’ he said, and when the moment did arrive, the ladies glided and the men advanced to lay kisses on flushed cheeks, as was the custom.

Mr Wingrove kissed Caroline’s cheek warmly, and ventured a light caress of her hand. Cumberland, using his own rules to improve on custom, kissed Annabelle on the mouth, and Annabelle prayed that in the great throng of dancers such audacious behaviour had not been noticed. Emma received the promised peck from Captain Burnside, which made her pout. But she continued to exchange provocative patter with him, and at the end of the dance begged to be allowed to pull several hairs from
his head, which she vowed she would twist into a lovers’ knot and keep in her bosom by day and under her pillow at night. By way of response, Captain Burnside declared only a punitive measure could cure her of such fanciful notions, and that measure was to return her to her aunt. Emma laughed, her gloved fingers squeezing the firm hand resolutely leading her.

Caroline intercepted them.

‘Oh, Lady Caroline,’ said the breathless girl, ‘such a magical gavotte, and Captain Burnside has been adorable to me.’

‘Then it will probably dismay you to part with him,’ said Caroline, ‘but detach him from you I must, for he is urgently required.’

Emma sighed. Catching sight of Lady Chesterfield, Captain Burnside gently pointed the girl at her. Emma sighed again, but went.

‘Has something happened?’ asked the captain.

‘Come aside with me, please, or Mr Wingrove will surely find us and I really don’t wish him to know anything of the true relationship between us two.’

They stepped between alabaster pillars into an alcove.

‘Now, dear lady, what is troubling you?’ asked the captain, noting the difference between a young and pert girl and a supremely beautiful woman.

Caroline said stiffly, ‘You have done what you said you would not do: you have allowed Annabelle to disappear with Cumberland, and there are a hundred rooms in this house. She will be her giddy self, she will be excited and vulnerable. Did you have to allow that girl to take you away from my sister? Mr Wingrove was quite willing to accommodate her in the gavotte.’

‘I fancy I was swept away, for it seems to have been love at first sight.’

‘Will you be serious, sir! Love at first sight? Tush. You are old enough to be her father.’

‘If I were, I’d have been an infernally forward thirteen-year-old brat. Come, it ain’t critical, Caroline—’

‘I will not have a conversation with you! What are you about, standing there doing nothing? If anything happens to Annabelle, if Cumberland is even taking her at this moment back to his house, then God forgive you, sir, for I shan’t.’

‘No, no, it ain’t like that, dear lady. They’re in Lord Chesterfield’s notable conservatory. It’s true Miss Emma Winthrop detached me from Annabelle, but my eyes didn’t forsake her. The conservatory, as you no doubt know, is beyond the ballroom. The west doors open on to it. I ventured a look earlier, with Annabelle, who sighed at its magnificence. I fancy she may now be firing an arrow on Mr Wingrove’s behalf and acquainting Cumberland with Lord Chesterfield’s potted greenery.’ The captain smiled. ‘I doubt, certainly, if Cumberland is bedding her among the potted ferns.’

‘That remark is not amusing, but in very poor taste, sir,’ said Caroline, and stepped out of the alcove to glance down the length of the ballroom to the west doors. Captain Burnside joined her. ‘You saw them?’ she enquired.

‘I did,’ he said. ‘Despite having the devil of a time holding Miss Winthrop in check, I managed not to lose sight of them. Cumberland don’t make an insignificant figure, even at a crowded ball. Ah, re-enter the royal gentleman, with angelic Annabelle in tow. Do you see?’

The doors had opened. Annabelle and Cumberland had appeared. Caroline sighed with relief, her bosom subsiding, a diamond necklace gently settling.

‘You should not let me judge you so hastily,’ she said,
‘although my fault only comes about from never knowing precisely what you’re about.’

‘In your concern for your sister, you have no fault,’ said the captain.

Cumberland and Annabelle approached, she with her hand on his arm, he escorting her in his majestic fashion, caring little for what people made of his relationship with her. Caroline feared everyone was whispering that Cumberland soon or late would have Miss Annabelle Howard, the pretty American girl, in his bed. The duke brought her to Caroline, his smile faintly derisive, as if he knew their disappearance had caused concern and dismay.

‘Your delicious sister did excel in the dance, my dear Caroline,’ he said, ‘and so I return her to you unharmed and cooled. The conservatory has a moist air and ain’t as hot as the ballroom. Annabelle,’ he said, ‘ye have my compliments for favouring me.’ He brought her hand to his lips. He then took Caroline’s hand and pressed it, murmuring, ‘I only regret I’ve won no favours from ye.’

‘I am sure, sir, that you have won enough elsewhere,’ retorted Caroline.

Cumberland laughed and looked at the captain, and at his uniform. ‘I wish ye joy in the rose of your choice, Burnside,’ he said, and departed.

Mr Wingrove arrived in some haste, expressing anxiety that something might be amiss.

‘Nothing is amiss, Mr Wingrove,’ said Caroline, and they all had to withdraw a few steps at that moment as the orchestra, refreshed after a short break, invited participation in a cotillion. Young ladies in high spirits advanced with their partners, for the cotillion entailed the execution of an infinite variety of spins and pirouettes at this stage of its development, and none could deny its infectious excitements.

Mr Wingrove, not having partnered Annabelle so far and not wishing to be thought reluctant to dance with her, smilingly requested the honour. Annabelle would rather have danced the joyous cotillion with Captain Burnside, who had captured his own place in her warm affections. But she could not refuse Mr Wingrove, and in smiling confidence he led her forward.

Caroline glanced at her hireling. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes on the gathering dancers moving into place. She began to feel dismay. Was he going to deny her the opportunity to enjoy the lively cotillion? Was she to remain outside it, looking as if not a single gentleman of her acquaintance had cared to take her up?

Captain Burnside, catching her glance, said, ‘Ah, Lady Caroline.’

‘Yes?’ she said.

‘Ah, I ain’t sure if you’ll allow me the privilege of—’

‘Captain Burnside, please don’t be absurd. How can you not be sure?’

‘Well, I ain’t, dear lady, but all the same—’

‘I shall strike you, sir, unless you offer to advance with me.’

He smiled at her refreshing American candour, and said, ‘I assure you, it will be a delight to advance with Your Gracious Ladyship.’

Her hand placed itself on his arm, and they were just in time to join the assembled array. The orchestra struck the liveliest chords imaginable, and the cotillion began. Within seconds, Caroline found herself carried away by the music, the intricate steps, and the sure hand of the captain. Quite soon, she was vivaciously engrossed. The glittering ballroom, with its crystal chandeliers, its mirrors casting brilliant reflections, became a scene of whirling
exuberance and gaiety. Shimmering gowns, flashing jewels and military uniforms became a kaleidoscope of vivid moving colours. Captain Burnside showed himself an adept guiding partner, and there was, for Caroline, a sense of giddy delight in the dance itself, and a feeling of wonder that her participation was totally joyful. Eyes sparkling, lips slightly parted, ecstatic breath escaping, hand in the firm clasp of the captain’s, she danced, spun and pirouetted, as did all the ladies.

Full-skirted gowns and petticoats flew and swirled, affording delicious glimpses of the finest and most delicate white lace. Caroline displayed gossamer lace and pink ribbon so frothily delicious that Captain Burnside declared her dazzling.

‘I did not catch that,’ she said breathlessly, and spun about. Her gown swirled. She did not miss a little smile of masculine appreciation. ‘I trust, sir, I am not disappointing you.’

‘It’s no disappointment, dear lady, to know limbs are fashionably to the fore in the cotillion, and long may they be so.’

She caught all those words, and laughter hung on her lips. Mr Wingrove would have assured her his eyes were elsewhere. Not so Captain Burnside. Oh, how rapturous it was to dance like a girl again, to put aside her reserve and cast away all the painful memories of a disastrous marriage and all the inhibitions of widowhood. How simply lovely it was to turn and turn again, the guiding hand making her feel she was lighter than air, and leading her swimmingly into every intricate movement. The music took hold of her, and its infectious gaiety induced heady abandon to the dance; amid the revolving kaleidoscope of swirling colour she was a figure of flying white silk and delicate lace. She wished the dance would
go on and on, and indeed it seemed to, only for its end to come with such apparent suddenness that she was sure she had been cheated.

Gentlemen were bowing to their partners. Captain Burnside was bowing to her. ‘By my life,’ he said in admiration, ‘beg to inform you, Lady Caroline, that that was perfection.’

‘Oh, I haven’t danced like that since the early days of my marriage,’ said Caroline breathlessly, her face flushed, her bosom quick in its rise and fall. ‘I must surely thank you for making it perfection.’

‘I meant,’ he said, ‘that the perfection was you. I was merely dancing attendance, as it were: doing my awkward best not to spoil the picture. It ain’t my intention to trespass beyond the boundaries of our relationship, but permit me to say your perfection made the picture dazzling. Are you aware, dear lady, that you’re a very beautiful woman?’

Such personal compliments were well beyond the boundary of what was permitted, but how could she rebuff him? She had not moved since the end of the dance, nor had he. People leaving the floor brushed by them as she looked up at him, into the warmth of his smiling eyes. Perplexingly, uncertainty took hold of her, and she experienced the oddest sensation of vulnerability.

Faintly she said, ‘Thank you, Captain Burnside.’ He offered her his arm and escorted her back to her chair. She seated herself, her knees suddenly weak, a little pulse fluttering in her throat, and she fluttered her fan to cool herself and to cover her confusion.

They were joined by Annabelle and Mr Wingrove, Annabelle declaring herself madly in love with the cotillion as danced in London, and generously, and truthfully, announcing that Mr Wingrove had been an accomplished partner. Robert and Cecilia Humphreys
put in an appearance, and both expressed admiration for the gowns of the American sisters. Robert said how young and lovely Caroline looked. Cecilia said it was all of satisfying to see her looking so happy.

‘Oh, the cotillion is responsible,’ said Caroline, ‘it’s the most gay and infectious of dances.’

‘One’s partner can also be a help,’ smiled Annabelle, who had not missed her sister’s joyful commitment to her partnership with the captain.

‘I vow it’s most important to ensure a lady’s enjoyment of dancing,’ said Mr Wingrove in his equable way, ‘and to that end I willingly dedicate myself.’

‘I ain’t sure myself that I don’t take two left feet into a dance with me,’ said the captain, which brought laughter from Annabelle and Cecilia, but which Caroline thought completely untrue. He was far more natural and free-moving than Mr Wingrove, who was all of correct in his style, and accordingly a little unexciting and conventional. No, no, I must not think like this, she told herself; I should not be critical of such a kind friend when comparing him with a man of Captain Burnside’s background. I simply must not. Heavens, Annabelle
is
falling in love with him, her smile for him is very affectionate, and she parted from Cumberland without a single sigh. But how I dislike the thought of her in love with my scoundrel of a hireling. It can lead to nothing, nothing.

‘Supper is being called,’ observed Mr Wingrove.

‘Shall we sup with you?’ asked Cecilia, and Mr Wingrove gallantly gave her his arm and took her in. Robert escorted Caroline, and Captain Burnside looked after Annabelle. They joined a procession of guests to the banqueting hall, where a superb buffet was laid out. Doors were open to enable guests to take their chosen food into the garden and consume it at tables placed on the terrace, on the
lawn or in candlelit alcoves. Wine of each guest’s choice was poured by liveried footmen.

Supper at an alcove table for six was most enjoyable, and the conversation was extremely sociable. Cecilia, always entertaining, with a fund of gossip interesting but unmalicious, dropped names with a laugh, Cumberland’s among them. Cumberland, she said, was rumoured to be in ardent pursuit of a new love, but no one was sure which lady it was who would provide a conquest.