Reaching Oxford Street, Cecilia trudged out of the carriage and into the shops where her mother and aunt perused ribbons, bonnets, and shoes at various establishments. She managed to stay still while she was fitted for her new ball gown, which needed a few more alterations, much to her mother’s consternation, who wanted Cecilia to wear the delicately embroidered white dress to the evening’s entertainment. Cecilia blushed to see herself in the low-cut gown, but it was the most beautiful dress she had ever owned. Perhaps by the next ball, when the dress would be ready, ‘Ret would be in town. She shook such thoughts quickly from her, as a mare swats bothersome pests with her tail.
They entered the vast Pantheon Bazaar. The numbers of people and wares caused Cecilia to duck her head. Her throat parched and her limbs ached, weary of her mother and aunt pulling her throughout the city.
“Mrs. Harfoot, how pleasant to see you. Fanny will be sorry to have missed you,” her aunt Higham said to a fair, tall woman who was accompanied by a striking, dark man with a mischievous smile which softened his imposing figure. Her aunt made introductions and Cecilia lightened in the attention of Mrs. Harfoot’s brother, Mr. Mainmount.
“May I offer you an ice?” he asked as they followed his sister, Cecilia’s mother, and aunt through the bazaar.
“Thank you, yes.” She smoothed her gown and glanced at his strong profile, achingly similar to ‘Ret’s.
“I take it your mother and aunt treat shopping as the sport my sister does.”
Cecilia giggled.
“But not yourself. I divine you enjoy more physical activity.” Though his eyes roamed her figure, his voice smoothed and cajoled from her any discomfort in his attention.
Cecilia smiled and laughed, bubbles of pleasure lifted her. “Yes, if you mean walking, riding, and when no one is looking, billiards.”
“Ah, a naughty girl,” he said as they ambled to the stand selling ices.
“And you, sir? What are your favored activities?”
He eyed her, his half smile made her stomach flutter and his deep blue eyes were clear, warm pools where one could wade safely. “Much the same, though there are many pleasant diversions to be had indoors, in the right company.”
They sat and Cecilia savored the cool strawberry-flavored ice, a rare treat. The three women approached.
“Brother, I hate to suspend your pleasure, but Mama expects you back,” Mrs. Harfoot said.
Mr. Mainmount rose and bowed. “I hope you will save me a good many dances, Miss Wilcox.”
“Gladly, thank you,” Cecilia said with a smile. He was an elegant yet masculine figure, much like Mr. Cateret, though perhaps more rugged than he. From the smiles of her mother as they wended their way back to the carriage, Cecilia knew she must have made a vaunted conquest. Her stomach dropped. Any choice of her mother’s could hardly be the best option.
Cecilia, at her mother’s insistence, spent the afternoon resting and preparing for the evening’s ball. Cecilia found this difficult, as she was, by turns, excited and nervous about this, her first ball, nor did her mother’s frequent admonishments help her become composed. If only she could take a walk in the open, her mind might clear, but instead she had to listen to Mrs. Wilcox remind her of all she expected of her and not to single out any gentleman, even Mr. Mainmount.
“As this is your first ball, you must be equally available. It is not proper or prudent to be preoccupied with any one gentleman yet. They must all have an opportunity to view you.”
“Yes, mama,” was all Cecilia replied. She again felt like one of her father’s prized horses up for sale; she was, in effect, though at least her father would not merely sell her to the highest bidder. Even his horses he did not offer to anyone he knew to be cruel or negligent. She was not so sure of her mother, however, who would probably press her to forget other suitors if she came across a wealthy peer, no matter how unlikeable he may be. Cecilia reminded herself that her father trusted her mother to have her best interests in mind, so she would endeavor to believe it.
Chapter Five
C
ecilia waited with her aunt and mother for their turn to exit the carriage. Not only was Cecilia accompanied by a large party, but the ball was also a throng. If she felt crowded in the London shops, the crush here was worse. Cecilia, used to the open countryside, hunched, oppressed; yet she had not even recourse to Amelia, who attended with Mr. Dryden. Fortunately, the ballroom, which was a grand room lit with countless candles whose light played prettily on the waxed floors, was not such a press and Cecilia fluttered in anticipation of the dancing.
Until then, she observed the various ladies and gentlemen, all attired in a dizzying array of colors and fashions; here was a woman in shocking pink with an equally shocking display of bosom and extraordinary feathers in her hair, over there a dandy with the most complicated neck cloth arrangement. Cecilia knew she was not of the latest fashion, but she was confident and comfortable in her simple pale tea leaf green muslin gown with its square neckline and classical drape. She liked to imagine herself a wood nymph when she wore it, though this was impossible in such a setting. She only hoped her appearance would not cause her to be ignored, for this would greatly perturb her mother, who would be sure to find fault with Cecilia.
Apparently, there were many gentlemen who were pleased enough with Cecilia’s looks, for she had danced every dance yet. She flushed from her constant movement in the closed room. The gentleman she had been dancing with gently pulled her toward the terrace door saying she looked overwarm; she needed some air, perhaps?
“No, I thank you, but my mother would wish me to stay inside,” she said as he maneuvered them out the door. Cecilia was not even sure who the weasel-faced gentleman was. Perhaps he had been introduced as a cousin of Mr. Borden? There had been such a succession of men, none of whom the least impressed Cecilia, with their dull conversation or inept dancing or forward manners. She had been unfailingly polite to them all, though the persistence of this young man was trying.
“Ah, and are you quite under your mother’s thumb? Come now, I shan’t bite. I can see you need air.”
Cecilia bridled at the notion she was ruled by her mother, even if that was what she had told Amelia. She was dreadfully warm, what harm could come in such a crowd? As they moved out onto the terrace, however, only a lone tree loomed ahead, standing guard over the darkened, small garden, the nearly full moon creating little more than a faint glow. Immediately, she attempted to go back into the ballroom, but he had a tight grip on her arm. She was so flustered; what had her temper gotten her into now?
“This is better, is it not, Miss Wilcox? Perhaps we could take a turn about the garden? I’m sure you would feel refreshed.”
“I am well, thank you. I would like to go back inside, please,” Cecilia said as she tried to retreat to the door. He seized her arm and walked toward the stairs leading to the shadowy grounds. She attempted to pull away, but his grip was stronger than she had thought.
“I believe Miss Wilcox wishes to return to the ballroom, sir,” said a commanding voice behind them. It was Mr. Thornhill. The image of the lion rampant came to Cecilia at that moment, but Mr. Thornhill was all politeness. “Miss Wilcox, you were saving this dance for me?”
“Yes, thank you,” she replied. The young man, seeing who confronted him, returned hastily to the ballroom.
As Mr. Thornhill took her arm, he muttered. “Impudent young pup.”
“Thank you, sir. I suppose you need not have troubled yourself. I could have prevented him, but I did not wish to call attention to myself.” Cecilia fought the urge to lean into his arm and let his scent, like that of the stand of elms along the stream at home, envelop and comfort her.
“Indeed?” he said, his eyebrow raised, as they reached the door. “Now, shall we have that dance?”
“Yes, thank you,” Cecilia replied. A deep warmth aroused her as he guided her in, yet irritation tickled her throat for he seemed ready to laugh at her. He was a most confusing man. She really preferred the giddy lightness Mr. Cateret and Mr. Mainmount inspired.
Mr. Thornhill, though not the best dancer, was a strong partner. With him she felt no awkwardness, boredom, or disgust. He also looked very handsome in his buff breeches and waistcoat and a dark green dress coat which brought out the emerald in his sapphire eyes, reminding Cecilia of a cool stretch of river near Partridge Place. Cecilia noticed, too, that though Mr. Thornhill asked only two dances, he was always nearby, his calm yet penetrating eyes on her. His presence made her feel secure, yet unsettled.
She had more reason to feel uneasy, too, when her mother and aunt introduced her to the Mainmounts. Sir Roderick Mainmount was a corpulent, complacent man, who shocked Cecilia by referring to an old friendship with her mother, who he spoke of as the beauty of his county and Lady Mainmount she found patronizing, though perhaps she was merely annoyed at her husband’s animated attention toward Mrs. Wilcox. Their son, as Cecilia knew from their meeting the day before, was more pleasing. He was much like Mr. Cateret in his dark looks and easy-going manner. While Cecilia felt drawn to Mr. Mainmount for these reasons, she was disquieted by them as well. Clearly her mother wished her to give him due attention, so she accepted his offer to take her into the dining room for refreshments to be followed by a dance.
Cecilia was both amused and repelled by the ostentatious display of food and silver which greeted them. While it was the fashion to impress guests with such a presentation, her sensibility was offended. Surely one did not need or even want cold chicken, ham, rabbit, salmon, shrimp, three jellies, four puddings, including vegetable and muffin, sweetbreads, and several other dishes Cecilia did not recognize.
There was only room for the ladies to sit, so Mr. Mainmount stood behind her, most attentive, bringing her what she wished from the sideboards. He seemed somewhat surprised that she only desired a little chicken, fruit, and a glass of punch, but Cecilia was not used to dining so late nor did her fluttering stomach feel equal to overindulgence. As she ate, she noticed Mr. Thornhill standing behind her aunt Higham. Clearly, he had escorted her in, which struck Cecilia as a kind gesture. His look of displeasure did not match this assumption, though Cecilia quickly realized that his frown was directed at Mr. Mainmount. She shifted in her seat, wondering if there was something unsavory about her companion or if Mr. Thornhill was merely jealous. Neither option was favorable because her mother would most likely press her toward Mr. Mainmount and she did not wish to cause Mr. Thornhill pain when he had been kind this evening. Knowing she sometimes thought over things too much, Cecilia remembered her father’s dictate to enjoy herself and let herself be led to the ballroom by her escort, determined to be carefree.
Certainly Mr. Mainmount encouraged this attitude with his own untroubled air and amusing anecdotes about his time abroad in the East Indies. He was an accomplished dancer, too, almost as able as Mr. Cateret, the best dancer she knew. This fact did not put Mr. Thornhill in a favorable light when he claimed his second dance, for he was not as proficient as Mr. Mainmount and his proprietary tone provoked Cecilia.
“You ought not countenance him, Miss Wilcox. I am sure if your father or brother were here, they would not encourage you to accept his attentions,” Mr. Thornhill said quietly as they took a turn about the room.
“Whatever can you mean, Mr. Thornhill? I thank you for your concern, but if my mother and aunt do not object, surely you can have no reason to. I am only desirous of some enjoyment. I do not see the harm,” Cecilia replied in a careless tone, though her stomach clenched.
“Of course you cannot. I assure you…” Mr. Thornhill broke off as Mr. Mainmount approached to claim Cecilia for another dance. Laughingly, the two went out on the floor wishing a glowering Mr. Thornhill a good evening.
“Old Thornhill seems most prickly this evening, Miss Wilcox. Have I done something to offend?”
Cecilia could not help but giggle. “Old, sir? He cannot be much older than yourself, surely?”
“In years, true, but his hoary spirit makes him most unbearable to those seeking youthful pleasures,” he said with a scornful tone which so reminded Cecilia of Mr. Cateret she was momentarily silenced. “I hope I have not offended you, Miss Wilcox?”
“No, not at all.” Cecilia laughed. “I suppose he is a bit thorny this evening, though he has been kind to me, so I ought not jest at him.”
“But what are our fellows or ourselves for, if not to provide amusement?”
“You sound like my brother’s friend, Mr. Adam Cateret. He said the very thing to me on his last visit,” Cecilia said, trying to sound flip, but her blush betrayed her.
“Mr. Cateret? Yes, I know him well. We shared many an escapade before I left England,” he replied, his eyes sparking in remembrance, at which Cecilia blushed more deeply. She could not begin to guess at what those two gentlemen had gotten into; she did not want to even think about it, for his tone implied perhaps their adventures were not gentlemanly. Mr. Mainmount laughed in his charming way as he led her from the floor.
“Would you care to rest a bit, Miss Wilcox? I should like to sit with you and hear how my old friend is, as well as your brother, whom I also remember.” He motioned to a nearby settee.
Cecilia agreed, for she could not resist an opportunity to discuss her two favorites, especially with one who could share his own stories of them.
They passed the time most agreeably, Cecilia pleased with his compliments of her brother and Mr. Mainmount charmed by Cecilia’s natural yet voluptuous beauty and innocence. Of course, these were almost secondary to the opportunity to best ‘Ret, who he sensed had captivated young Miss Wilcox. ‘Mount and ‘Ret, as they were known, had shared a friendly rivalry, though Mr. Mainmount was less honorable in his dealings, controverting his honorific title. ’Ret must surely desire Miss Wilcox if his former taste for dark, shapely beauties had not changed, but ‘Ret would try to resist that temptation out of loyalty to his friend Wil. Mr. Mainmount shared no such compunction, though he would have to make a better study of Miss Wilcox before deciding what to do. Before taking leave of Cecilia to join his parents in saying farewell to their guests, Mr. Mainmount asked if she would be receiving callers tomorrow afternoon to which Cecilia replied a smiling yes. He would do what he could to elicit many such affirmations. He rarely encountered opposition, save from his parents and an angry spouse or relative. Chuckling, he returned to his duties.
As Cecilia watched Mr. Mainmount stride off, she smiled. He was most charming.
“You have done well this evening,” her mother whispered as they made their farewells.
Cecilia dipped her head. Perhaps Mr. Mainmount was not so appealing. Walking behind her aunt and mother, Cecilia started at the appearance of Mr. Thornhill, who offered to escort her to the carriage. Her aunt smiled over her shoulder at them while her mother sighed.
“May I call upon you tomorrow, Miss Wilcox?” he said as her aunt and mother entered the carriage. “Perhaps the air at the park may be restorative.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thornhill, but I have already promised to be at home to receive Mr. Mainmount in the afternoon,” Cecilia said as he handed her into the carriage.
“Oh?” he asked, with a hint of annoyance. “Perhaps your mother would allow me to call for you after breakfast, then. Shall we say eleven o’clock?” He looked at Mrs. Wilcox, who inclined her head in agreement. “Until tomorrow,” he said, wishing them a good night. Cecilia was still piqued at him for assuming she needed his protection and taken aback by her mother’s assent to his call.
“I suppose I am still to be available to all acceptable gentlemen?” Cecilia asked as they rode back to Portman Square.
“Do not be pert, daughter. Remember your manners and I shall see to the rest,” her mother said. She and her aunt were strangely quiet, but as Cecilia was tired, she did not question further.
The morning after the ball was one of those rare occasions Mrs. Wilcox let Cecilia sleep late. She was most pleased with her showing last night, so she’d told Cecilia as they made their way to bed after returning from the ball. Cecilia woke uneasy, though, remembering the person her mother urged her toward. She had misjudged Mr. Cateret, was she making the same error with Mr. Mainmount? Amelia, her face alight, woke as well, and faced Cecilia.
“I may say, it is much preferred to be engaged. Then you do not have to endure the attentions and insolence of so many various men, most of whom are odious.”
Cecilia laughed. “I never thought to hear you say you prefer to be engaged! You are certainly hard on men. Does Mr. Dryden know of your disdain?” she teased.
“My Dryden is different. I speak of those you tend to meet at a ball. Did you not find it so?”
“Yes, I suppose I did. Though there were a very few who were tolerable, even pleasant, most notably Mr. Thornhill and Mr. Mainmount. I do not know how you managed through three seasons, Amelia. If I have to do this all again, I should quite despair.” Cecilia slid from bed and twisted her hair.
“It is better than marrying one you do not respect or like.”
“Yes, though my mother will certainly make life difficult if I return home with no conquests. And, how well can you know someone before marrying? I think I must take my chances and rely on my parents’ discernment,” Cecilia said absently as she brushed her hair.