Dizzy Dilemmas (3 page)

“Of-course a ballroom is the ideal place for meeting potential husband material. Why else do you think the haute ton go to such great lengths each year to hold a season with elaborate entertainment and themed balls, if not to find spouses for their offspring?” the dowager asked incredulously of her granddaughter.

“Because it gives them the opportunity to gossip about each other and to unsheathe their claws on those unfortunate enough to fall from grace?” replied
Dizzy, turning her answer into a question and smiling at the outraged expression on her companion’s face.

“Of-course not!”
disputed the dowager, pausing a little before adding, “Some might see gossip and intrigue as a perk; but only that, a perk! The primary goal is to marry off all you young ones to someone of suitable birth and fortune as you very well know. How else would you meet eligible gentleman do you suppose? I only wish you would make more of an effort, Dizzy.”

“I am a
despairing case, Grandmamma. As you very well know, I am hopeless at all those accomplishments deemed necessary for a lady of gentle birth. I cannot dance with elegance, nor sew pretty samplers and as for performing upon an instrument;” she shuddered “well suffice it to say that even I wish I were deaf when I try to play!”

“You exaggerate
,” the Dowager again paused but this time longer than before, and then continued, “Alright you do not exaggerate! But you do have plenty of wonderful accomplishments; you have a lovely sense of humour, you are a gracious hostess, you’re intelligent and you can converse knowledgeably on any number of subjects …although it might be more prudent to tone down your intelligence, my love, as some men may be put off by it!”

“Grandmamma stop before you put me to the blush! 
But none of those accomplishments can be displayed at a ball. Apart from being a good hostess, of-course! But even then it would be decidedly odd if I were to act the gracious hostess at someone else’s do!” Dizzy replied.

             
The Dowager opened her mouth to respond but much to her granddaughter’s relief, her attention was fortuitously claimed again by Lady Gosport so her rejoinder remained unuttered.  The Lady Grace Amelia Brockton, fifth child of the Earl and Countess of Elveston, settled back to watch the dancers as they performed a Cotillion.  She had spent the better part of the season being an observer of the dance floor but never a participant. Initially she could have filled her dance card thrice over at each and every ball but not one man had managed to persuade her to leave the relative safety of the edge of the room and step out onto the dance floor. Now, with the season well under way, the male contingent had given up on trying to get her to agree to dance with them and sought out other, more obliging partners. The betting books of Waitiers and Brookes once filled with the names of boastful young swains confident that they could succeed where others had failed; now remained closed with no winnings paid out; all bets null and void.

             
Grace whiled away the hours of each and every ball, conversing with the young ladies not fortunate enough to procure dance partners for each and every dance and with those others who, for reason of health or age, chose to remain like her an observer at the side-lines. Thus it was that she had a wide circle of acquaintances of all ages and dispositions and was generally well liked by all.

             
But occasionally, as now, she would watch wistfully as others traversed the dance floor, most with elegance and poise, and wish that she too could take to the floor and glide effortlessly around with her partner. It was a beautiful scene with all the ladies dressed in elegant gowns; mainly it had to be said in shades of white or pastel and the gentleman in their dark jackets and colourful waistcoats. Not for the first time Dizzy wondered why the leading ladies of the Haute Monde still insisted on the young girls wearing white or pastels when many would appear to much better advantage draped in more vibrant colour.

             
Just as she began to amuse herself by choosing colours that she thought would best suit the various young ladies before her, Dizzy became aware that her brother was deep in conversation with ‘the wall’.  By the look of it, they had been conversing for some time and both seemed engrossed in their conversation. Dizzy did not delude herself that she knew the identity of all of her brother’s friends, but in the one and a half seasons she had attended, she had never seen him before and was not convinced he was a regular crony of her brother’s which left the question; what did they have to discuss at length and so intently at a ball?

She was just berating herself for being somewhat paranoid and telling herself there was absolutely nothing to worry about when Gideon, her eldest brother and senior by seven years glanced across at her and smiled; not just his hello smile, or his just caught your eye
, smile. No this was definitely his mischievous smile, his ‘I am up to something’ smile and that was definitely something to be concerned about. She frowned across at him and his smile became in a grin; not just his ‘I am happy’ grin but his, ‘I am definitely cooking up mischief’ grin. It was a grin with which she had been familiar for all of her life and it usually concocted up a recipe of mayhem in which she usually, through no fault of her own, became a principal ingredient. Her frown became a scowl.  Although it was a useless wish, she wanted her scowl to reach out across the ballroom and curl itself around her brother’s conniving neck and strangle any scheming at its birth.

Then her tormentor looked over at her and Dizzy knew without a shadow of a doubt that things had definitely got worse.
Even at a distance she could tell that his smile was taunting and promised more turmoil than even Gideon was capable of brewing. Incredible though it seemed, here was a man who could demote her brother’s machinations to that of schoolboy antics. Her scowl became ferocious. And then he waved!

“Did you just growl
, dear?” the dowager turned a perplexed expression upon her granddaughter.

“Growl, Grandmamma?”
replied Dizzy whilst trying to school her own expression into one of bland serenity.

“Yes, growl.
For I tell you it is most assuredly not the sound one usually expects to hear from a young lady at a ball,” she said.

“I am pretty sure I did not growl. Perhaps it is your hearing letting you down.” Dizzy teased.

“I am in the prime of life, my girl, as you very well know. Hearing letting me down indeed! I know a growl when I hear one and don’t you mistake!”

“Just for my own clarity then Grandmamma, and for future reference; when would you expect a growl from a young lady?  We have established not at a ball. What about a picnic or a drive in the park? Would a growl then be acceptable? And do the same rules apply to young men?”

“Humph.” The Dowager was ready with a rejoinder when she suddenly spotted her eldest grandson. “Never mind your cheek now. Who is that gentleman in conversation with your brother?”

Deliberately misunderstanding her relative, Dizzy answered. “Why
, it is Simeon Binksley of-course. You have known him since he was a babe in arms. Do not tell me you are losing your sight now as well as your hearing Grandmother, dear?”

“What?” she said for a moment forgetting her manners in her conf
usion. Her head spun round to Dizzy and seeing she was looking in an entirely different direction; she followed her gaze and spotted her other grandson Gabriel, who was indeed talking to the son of her long-time friend.  “Not Gabriel!” she said swatting Dizzy’s arm. “Naturally I know Simeon. Gideon! Who is that talking to Gideon?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea
,” Dizzy replied feigning disinterest.

“Handsome devil
isn’t he! I should imagine he will have the young women dangling after him and if he turns out to be well heeled, he will be popular with their mothers too.  Why don’t you join your brother dear? He will be able to introduce you. A head start on the other girls will not come amiss.”

“Do you think him handsome?” Dizzy asked
, ignoring the hand pushing her elbow in an effort to get her to move. She took the time to study her adversary and thought he was indeed a fine specimen of manhood but there was no way she was going to let on to her grandmother. If she suspected Dizzy was interested, which she wasn’t, there would be no end to her machinations in getting the two to the altar. Dizzy just cringed at how embarrassing it would be.

             
The object of her scrutiny was concluding his conversation with Gideon. Tall and with an athletic frame he would have garnered attention but classical good looks meant that many people of all ages were sending appreciative glances his way. Hair the colour of rich mahogany was swept into the latest style and was both thick and glossy with a slight curl. Prominent eyebrows the exact same shade spanned expressive warm, brown eyes. A patrician nose, well defined cheekbones and generous mouth completed the picture and taken together created a face that would also attract attention and admiration. He carried himself well with an innate confidence, portraying a man who was comfortable with his responsibilities and sure of his position in the world.

“Don’t try and bamboozle me, my girl. You would have to be blind not to recognise that he is built like a Greek god. What are you waiting for?” The dowager was still
prodding her.

“Grandmamma, I am not going over there to garner an introduction so you can stop your prodding. He would know
and the whole situation would be terribly embarrassing.” Then on seeing Gideon moving away, she continued. “It is too late anyway as Gideon is going now to dance with Octavia Carstairs and I am off to find Mr Peterson as he has asked me to accompany him into supper.” She rose then and moved towards the room set aside for card games before her grandmother could object.

              Dizzy was enjoying a solitary breakfast the next morning, leisurely reading The Times whilst savouring her second cup of coffee, when Gideon strolled into the room, having been out for an early morning ride.

“Hello there, baby sister. Would you mind if I joined you or would you rather I go and change?
It is just that I am famished and that bacon smells delicious.”

“No. Don’t worry about your clothes just come and sit down. Did anything interesting happen whilst you were out?” Dizzy asked him whilst he helped hi
mself to a generous helping of bacon and eggs.

“It was fairly quiet actually. Even some of the regulars were absent this morning. Mind you, the weather may have put some people off as it was raining quite heavily first thing but had stopped by the time I was ready to head out.
I don’t know why you don’t go riding with me, you would really enjoy it.”

“You do know why! I cannot keep my balance
on a side-saddle. It is all very well me riding astride at home on our own land amongst our own people, on the saddle that Georgiana designed for me but it would cause an absolute scandal here in London,” Dizzy replied.

“In the early morning
, when there is hardly anyone about, I am sure no-one would notice; not if we avoid getting too close to any other people who might be around. Goodness knows it is a big enough park,” Gideon assured her.

“I must admit I would relish a good ride. I miss the exercise and fresh air,”
Dizzy sighed.

“I cannot guarantee fresh air; not like at home
at any rate, but I can promise a brisk gallop whilst the fashionable world sleep off their excesses from the night before. Come with me tomorrow. We could even go a little earlier if you like, say seven o’clock?”

“I will think about it
,” she said but Gideon pushed for more.

“You promise?”

Dizzy nodded. “Yes, I promise and will let you know later.”

Pouring herself another half cup of coffee, she
studied the delicate, bone china cup which had been especially made for the family by Josiah Wedgwood.

“Well, I hope it stays dry for the rest of the day
. Rain has a tendency to make everything dreary, even if you are inside.”

“What are your plans for today? Is it to be more shopping or are you visiting the good and the worthy?” Gideon enquired with a grin, knowing his sister had already had her fill of shopping trips and ‘at homes’.

“Oh you can smirk!” she replied. “You know very well I hate dress fittings. It is the feel of the new material on my skin, it just feels so odd and having to stand to be poked and prodded and fitted; how can anyone enjoy that?”

“Most girls seem to enjoy it and quite a few men too if you look at the dandy set!” Gideon remarked.

“Well not this girl!” she shuddered at the thought. “As for ‘at homes’! They are totally false. You go; you sit for fifteen minutes listening to mundane chatter; you leave.”

“You just go to the wrong ones because you go with Grandmamma. What you need to do
, my girl is branch out on your own a bit more. You are twenty you know and in your second season and therefore not expected to stay quite so tied to the apron strings as the very young girls are,” her brother informed her. “You need to cultivate friendships with people who share your interests.”