Fenella J. Miller (7 page)

The trunks were where she’d expected. She placed her candle stick on a convenient shelf and dropped to her knees to open the first of them. This was full of bales of beautiful material, a kaleidoscope of colours that even the gloom of the attics could not smother. There were Indian muslins, Chinese silks and the finest Egyptian cottons — so
this
was where the gorgeous stuff for her ball gown had been discovered.

Hastily she refastened the box. She didn’t want the Hartfords to find it. The contents belonged to her, morally if not legally. She moved on to the second trunk and in here were beautiful, but outmoded, gowns. They were in bright colours, had daringly low-cut necklines and were drawn in tightly at the waist.

Seeing these garments made her understand a little more about her long dead mother. She held one up in front of her delighted to see that this would fit her perfectly. Why hadn’t Grandfather told her she was the same build as her mama? She rummaged through but found no footwear; these must be in the last trunk. She flung the lid back and was delighted to see it full of cloth bags. These would contain shoes as they were always stored like this.

A short while later she had what she wanted, a pair of the most enchanting high-heeled, evening slippers. They were studded with small golden stones and glittered when she held them to the light. They would fit her for she was her mother’s daughter in every physical respect. Again she locked the trunk and dropped all three keys into the shoe bag. One day she would come back and claim these boxes, but until then the contents would be safe.

She tarried awhile examining her grandfather’s effects until it became too dark to see. She decided to bring a handsome leather writing case with her. This item would be ideal to take with her when she left. Several times she barked her shins on protruding objects. With considerable relief, she escaped from the attics and returned to her own bed chamber.

The ball did not start until nine o’clock. There was to be a celebration dinner served for the guests in residence. Cook had been rushed off her feet these past two weeks with the preparations and extra staff had been taken on to help her in the kitchens.

There would be a delicious supper laid out on tables in an anteroom and champagne would be served throughout the event. She had only tasted this once and had not liked it; she hoped there would be lemonade or orgeat for those that didn’t drink alcohol. She still had four hours before she had to be downstairs. When would Ann return with the dress? What if her gown wasn’t finished in time?

She would go to the ball whatever happened. Snatching up a candlestick, she returned to the attics and selected the gown which had been made to go with the evening slippers. This had small capped sleeves edged with the same golden jewels, a neckline as daring as the other gowns and a skirt made up of looped layers of shimmering, diaphanous sarsenet and an underskirt of gold silk. Even if her new gown arrived in time, maybe she could wear this one. The dress must be more than forty years old, but was still as fresh and uncreased as if it had been placed in the trunk only yesterday.

Back in the safety of her room she held it against her chest and spun around the room, loving the way it swirled out in a golden rainbow. Then she considered how hurtful it would be if she rejected the hard work and loving attention of her friends. The dress must be hidden in her closet. Perhaps one day she would have the opportunity to wear it.

W
HEN
S
EVEN
O’C
LOCK
C
AME
and went Elizabeth decided to start her preparations. She had already laid out two sets of undergarments; one best suited to the old-fashioned gown, the other for the one being made for her. The same silk stockings and shoes would do for either. She had no need to take a reticule, but she would carry the lovely ivory fan she’d discovered amongst the shoe bags.

She flicked it open to admire the ladies painted on it. They all had white powdered wigs and were wearing gowns similar to the one she had folded in her closet. She had no glass in her bedchamber so arranging her hair without being able to see her reflection was going to be difficult.

Even in her eyrie at the top of the house, she could hear the sound of merriment downstairs. By now, the guests would be halfway through their dinner and for once she wished she could be there to see the formal dining room being used as it should be. What nonsense for the family to sit around the massive table every night and be unable to converse without raising their voices. To be marooned in a sea of white damask and glittering silver cutlery this way was the height of folly in her opinion.

She and Grandfather had never eaten in there. They’d always dined in a smaller room which overlooked the park. Thinking of him made her sad, but he would not wish her to be grieving after so long. She paced restlessly until eventually her fairy godmothers arrived, Mary in the lead, her face split by the broadest smile.

“Mrs. Blake sends her apologies, miss, but she can’t get away at the moment. It’s pandemonium in the kitchen, what with a dinner with ever so many removes and the supper for later to deal with.”

“If none of you had been able to come, I should not have blamed you in the slightest. But I am so thrilled you’re here as I was dreading having to arrange my hair for myself.”

“Well, you sit down and Sally and I will do it for you. The dress is not to be peeped at, miss, not until you’re ready to leave.”

After what seemed like an age, the girls declared themselves satisfied with the result. “You look like a princess, Miss Baverstock. There will be no one to match you at the ball, that’s for sure.”

“Thank you, Sally, but I sincerely hope you’re exaggerating. I have no wish to be the centre of attention in any way. I wish to be able to dance just once and to know what it’s like to be held in the arms of a gentleman and whirled around the floor.”

She was led to the centre of the room and told to close her eyes. She felt the slither of silk against her bare skin and shivered in excited anticipation. The three of them fiddled and fussed and then stepped back. A strange silence hung in the air. For an awful moment, she thought the dress might be a disaster. Then she opened eyes and saw all three staring as if they did not recognize her.

“Miss Baverstock, I had no idea you were so…could look so beautiful.” Mary brushed tears from her cheeks and reached out to touch Elizabeth’s hair. “The gown looks like the palest gold. I’ve never seen the like.”

There were carriages pulling up in the turning circle, which reminded Elizabeth the time had come for her to go. She ran forward and kissed each in turn. “I cannot thank you enough; I shall never forget tonight. I feel like a fairy princess with my hair arranged this way and such a beautiful ball gown. Do not attempt to come back tonight, I shall tell you all about it in the morning.”

Sally laughed. “We shall find out long before then, miss. All the old staff will want to know what’s happening. You can’t believe how many have helped to sew this gown for you. You enjoy yourself and show
them
what a real lady looks like.”

Elizabeth was tempted to creep down the back stairs and slip in to the ballroom unnoticed. However, tonight she would walk down the grand staircase as was her birthright. Her life here was all but over. What better way to end it than in a gesture of defiance?

Dinner had been enjoyable, the food splendid, and tonight James had been seated next to Sarah and Louise Bloomfield. He had been admirably entertained by the two young ladies, but the occasion seemed sadly flat. Surely it could not be because Miss Baverstock had not attended?

No one dallied over port this evening. Lord and Lady Hartford and their daughters were needed in the grand hall to greet the local guests who were attending the Christmas ball. He spent some time talking to Lord Bloomfield and Miss Culley, and then thought he might as well drift into the hall and watch the world go by. He might see someone he was acquainted with which would raise his spirits a little.

The massive tree trunk was burning merrily, apple logs pushed in around it to make the air sweet smelling. With the candles glowing amongst the holly, ivy and fir, this was an enchanted scene. He smiled wryly; all it needed was a fairy-tale princess and a handsome Prince Charming to make the picture complete.

The vast area was brimming with folk; they had discarded their outer garments in two anterooms set by for that purpose and were now enjoying the festive atmosphere. Bewigged and liveried footmen glided in and out of the crowd with trays of chilled champagne. He took one as it passed and sipped thoughtfully. He had little to celebrate this Christmas. He had thought to start the New Year with a bride who would bring laughter and happiness back to his empty home.

He was staring morosely into the flames when he became aware the hall had fallen silent. He spun. His heart almost stopped. A vision of loveliness was floating down the stairs, her glorious pale golden hair threaded through with ribbons. Her gown drifted around her like spun gold. He clutched the mantelshelf for support and his glass dropped from his fingers to bounce into the grate unnoticed.

He knew who this was. There could only be one woman here tonight with stunning violet eyes. How could he ever have thought her plain? Her beauty had always been there, but the hideous garments she was obliged to wear had confused him. His hands were clammy, his pulse frantic — Elizabeth was the woman of his dreams. A murmur of appreciation rippled around the people gathered there, but it was
he
that stepped forward and offered her his hand.

Halfway down, Elizabeth hesitated, not to draw attention to herself but because she’d seen Sir James, magnificent in black, staring into the fire. He had adopted the modern fashion of pantaloons and black slippers. His cravat fell in a snowy waterfall at his neck, but his waistcoat and single diamond fob held her attention. His waistcoat was gold silk and his fob in the shape of a rose.

Her breath caught in her throat. Fate had somehow conspired to link them tonight. Her hand came up to touch the exquisitely-made golden roses that edged her neckline and her eyes shone with excitement. This evening would
he
be her Prince Charming?

She was so engrossed in her fantasy she was unaware of the interest she was creating amongst the newly arrived guests. Those that had begun to walk through the grand drawing room to the ballroom came back to stare at her as well. Her feet were glued to the step; she could go neither up nor down. She was making a complete cake of herself. Then he turned and his eyes widened. His glass dropped from his slack fingers.

He strode towards her, his eyes holding her with their passion. He ran up to meet her and offered her his hand. She placed her own in his and something decidedly peculiar fizzled up her arm and around her already overheated body.

“My dear, you look amazing, beautiful, enchanting…that ensemble is perfection on you.” His strong, lean fingers closed over hers and drew her close beside him. She was incapable of speech; her tongue appeared to have stuck itself to the roof of her mouth. “I understand now why the Hartfords wished to keep your glorious hair hidden under a cap. Its beauty is incomparable.”

“Sir James, we must go down. We are creating a spectacle standing here like this. Someone will have run to tell Lady Hartford and she will spoil everything.”

His laughter rang out across the hall. “Not tonight, my love. Tonight we are invincible.”

The gathered guests stood aside as they approached, smiling and nodding and offering encouragement. Most of them were known to her but she had not seen for a long time, had been forbidden to pay visits in the neighbourhood. She was not as alone as she had thought. She had the most attractive man in England at her side and was surrounded by old friends of the family. These neighbours must have been puzzled by her disappearance from local society these past two years.

The orchestra was tuning up, ready for the opening waltz. He stepped away to speak urgently to the footmen before returning to her side.

“No, Sir James, we must not. Amelia should lead the dancers out.”

He tightened his hold and again she felt that strange frisson at his touch. “You are the true Hartford here. It’s high time you were restored to your proper place in the community.”

She was propelled forward into the vast empty space. She did not imagine the shocked gasps and the wave of disapproval that washed over her. Then the first notes of the waltz filled the ballroom and she forgot everything. She no longer cared about her future, the fate of her loyal retainers, or the fact that she was hopelessly in love with the man who was staring at her in a most compelling way. Tonight she was Cinderella, the world was at her feet and she had until midnight to pretend she was meant to be here.

His hand rested in the small of her back, its heat burning through the thin material of her gown. She placed her hand in his and he swept her away. As they swirled from one end of the ballroom to the other, her feet seemed inches from the floor. His eyes blazed down at her. She was mesmerised. The required space between their bodies slowly vanished as his arms tightened and she was drawn closer and closer.

She wished the dance could go on forever; she was incandescent with joy. Vaguely she was aware other couples had joined them on the polished parquet floor. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of Amelia or Eleanor dancing. These lovely young women were dressed in matching silver and white spangled gauze. Eleanor smiled happily at her as she passed whilst Amelia gave her dagger glances.

“My dear, the waltz is over. I believe a quadrille is to come next. Shall we join a set or do you wish to sit out?”

“If we dance together now, I shall have nothing more to look forward to for the rest of the evening. I shall take to the floor with no one else.”

He had not released her from his embrace when the music stopped. He smiled in such a way that if he had not been supporting her she might have swooned at his feet. “Tonight we shall dance every dance together and defy convention. I care not what anyone says.”

Should she point out to him her reputation would be in tatters? To appear on the dance floor with the same partner more than twice was tantamount to announcing their intention to marry. But she was going to drop out of his circle in a few days. She would probably never see him again, so it no longer mattered what anyone thought.

“Sir James, I cannot promise to do that.” His smile slipped at her words and she was warmed by his desire to remain at her side no matter what. “I fear I shall be too fatigued to stand up every time. Should you mind very much if we missed one or two in order for me to catch my breath?”

“You were funning me…as long as you spend every second at my side, I care not whether we are dancing or sitting out.”

As the quartet struck up a lively jig she had no time to consider anything apart from her steps. Dancing at an informal family affair with only half a dozen couples was not the same thing as being surrounded by people, all much better versed than she in the intricacies of the dance.

By the time they had promenaded for the second time, she was certain she would make no further errors and could relax and enjoy herself.

“There, sweetheart, you have it pat. Now
,
will you stop clutching my hand as if you were drowning and speak to me.”

This was not the first time he’d larded his remarks with endearments. Pretending to be Cinderella was all very well but each time he spoke lovingly her heart responded. He was taking their playacting too far. “Sir James, kindly desist from using phrases that are quite unacceptable between complete strangers. Do you have any conception of what people will think if they overhear you?”