The Honourable Henry Stanmore, a young man of about eighteen years, rolled his eyes skywards, under the wayward lock of black hair that fell across his brow.
“Sisters, say the most embarrassing things,” he grumbled in mock disgust. “All the same, I’d be awfully grateful if you fellows would support me; I can see they would much prefer your attention than mine.”
Charlie chuckled and turned his roguish dark eyes in Joshua’s direction.
“We are delighted to be of service,” he said. “My cousin was saying only this morning, how much he enjoyed the present company.”
That was the first Joshua had heard of it. Charlie was the one who enthused about them after the previous visit.
Lady Stanmore made no secret of her approval. “You must feel free to come and go as you please, gentlemen. The young ladies love to have your escort, and I am grateful that you find the time.”
Several other invitations followed the first, and they soon found their store of clothes insufficient for their needs. A travelling trunk, containing many of the garments donated by Joshua’s relatives, was still in Thessalonica. On hearing the problem, the visiting Ambassador from the city promised to have it returned to them.
When Lady Stanmore, heard of their predicament, she arranged for a tailor to attend them for fittings in the embassy. The thought of being beholden to strangers made Joshua embarrassed, but the lady waved his concerns aside.
“Good heavens, Mr Norbery, this is only a helping hand until your property can be restored. You must allow me to do this, for I have known your family for many years. In fact, your aunt, Mrs Pontesbury, and I were presented during the same season, so I am almost an aunt to you.”
He supposed knowing the family made it all right.
Their first lesson in etiquette taught them formality ruled, but it was hard to maintain a straight face when Charlie emphasised every nuance and his exaggerated poses made the girls giggle in the middle of an introduction.
Joshua knew it was Charlie’s way of hiding his boredom. He learned lessons fast, stored his knowledge and wanted to move on. He needed active occupation, not social posturing – they both did, but neither was so gauche as to admit to ennui in elevated company. Fatigue was permissible to admit, boredom was not.
In an attempt to impress on them the need to be serious, the ambassador’s wife enlisted the help of her visitors, amongst which several members of the English aristocracy were new arrivals.
When the moment came, everyone passed the test. They answered questions correctly on points of protocol, maintained the correct demeanour, and afforded the assembled company the appropriate degree of respect.
Once they mastered the basics, they embarked on a series of dancing lessons. Had they been midgets, the master of the dance might have acknowledged their presence in a more gracious manner; but the appearance of two unknown, personable young gentlemen challenged his supremacy with the ladies.
Instead, he favoured them with a slight inclination of the head. Then he pranced around the ballroom, gesticulating and issuing orders in an unintelligible falsetto, to the accompaniment of a pale shadow of a woman on the pianoforte.
It was soon apparent the ambassador’s children were familiar with the steps, but to Joshua, it was so complicated that it might have been a foreign language. He tried hard to follow the irritating little man’s instructions, but always ended the dance confused.
Sometimes it seemed as if the dancing master deliberately set out to mislead him, and then belittled his efforts in his native, rapid-flow Italian, assuming Joshua could not understand the language.
At his side, Charlie nodded his understanding and tapped his toe in time to the music. “This must be the sort of thing Sophie was telling me she did at school. I can see why she enjoyed it.”
Dancing was easy for Cobarne. Nobody would think his feet clodhopping, whereas Joshua had the problem of being two sizes larger, and was slower in the turns. Charlie could laugh at his mistakes, and frequently did. The young ladies forgave him, even when he stepped on the train of their gowns.
No matter how hard Joshua tried, he still felt foolish, and it did not make it any easier knowing that as the frequency of lessons increased, so did the number of spectators.
The Dowager Countess of Kenchester was visiting Athens, accompanied by her two granddaughters. One of which, Lady Rosemary Chervil, was an unusually tall woman, somewhat past the first blush of youth.
It was unfair of Charlie to call her a “Long Meg”, but with her aquiline features, and russet coloured hair, severely braided around her head, she was unmissable, standing a head and shoulders higher than the gaggle of frippery young misses. Only Joshua stood taller and she immediately made her way to his side.
“Mr Norbery,” she said, “I hope you will forgive me if I am direct, but it seems to me that you find the process of dancing somewhat confusing?”
He flushed with embarrassment, but could not deny the fact.
“It doesn’t have to be that way, you know,” Lady Rosemary said. “I have a suggestion to make. I love to dance, but seldom find a partner tall enough to make the process enjoyable. If you would be so kind as to lead me onto the floor, I will engage to see you learn the steps. In fact, it would be my pleasure.”
She was an excellent teacher. Within half an hour, Joshua forgot to be nervous, and did everything right. There was not a word of dissention from the dancing teacher.
“I knew you had the makings of a dancer,” Lady Rosemary said, “Now, I have another proposal. My grandmother has persuaded the ambassador to hold a ball whilst we are here, and I hope you will put your dancing to the test. I am sure you will be every bit as much in demand as your charming cousin.”
Joshua was not so sure about that.
Long before the date of the ball, the diplomatic service restored the missing travelling trunk to its owners. With a wardrobe deserving of the name, Joshua and Charlie perceived the benefits of having a valet to keep their clothes in order.
In the first weeks, they had the excuse of wearing comfortable clothes, such as they used for travelling. Buckskins and top boots being their favourite dress, but their lessons taught them that for visiting, pantaloons matched with Hessian boots, and for eveningwear, knee breeches and silk stockings were the accepted mode of attire. The knowledge they were correctly dressed for the occasion made a difference.
Joshua knew Aunt Winifred had impeccable taste, and the array of clothes she gave them was ideal. The only problem they encountered being their size and having grown in stature on their travels, there was a need to use the garments before they were outgrown.
It seemed strange to dress in formal clothes. At Linmore, they laughed at Matthew Norbery aping the dandy set. Now, it seemed they were destined to be similarly dressed, but Gilbert, their valet, had no need to pad the shoulders of their coats and their smallclothes fitted their limbs like a glove.
The aptly named, calf-clinging pantaloons caused amusement at first, but they soon adapted to the change. Even buckskins had a smoother fit.
The proof of their success was in the reception they received from the ladies on the night of the ball. As he dressed in his new clothes for the occasion, Joshua hoped he would not disgrace himself. He moved his head from side to side, growing accustomed to the higher neck of his shirt, and crisp white folds of his neckcloth.
It felt strange, but in tying the cravat, Gilbert aimed for a simple design, perfectly executed, and to Joshua’s mind, the result exceeded anything his brother’s valet achieved in an hour of failed attempts.
For once, he was comfortable with his appearance and knew Charlie felt the same. Gilbert made a special effort in shaving them for the occasion. He started the practice soon after they arrived in Athens. Until then, it hardly seemed worth the effort, but their skin toughened during their sojourn in the hinterland. Now they were socialising, it was imperative they looked their best.
The valet explained the process as he worked.
“I daresay you’ll have a batman to do this in the army,” he said, showing them how to lather the soap on their faces before applying the open blade, “but it’s as well to know how it should be done. You never know when it will come in useful. After all, you cannot go visiting ladies with stubble on your chin. They don’t want to rub faces with a hedgehog.”
At the time, it made them laugh, but smoothing his hand over his chin, Joshua could see the sense of it now. It felt good.
When he arrived at the embassy ball, Lady Rosemary tilted her head to one side as she scrutinised his appearance. Then she nodded approval.
“Oh, yes,” her eyes twinkled appreciatively, “I think your Aunt Pontesbury would be proud of you, sir. Neither of her sons have your… um… presence.”
“You know my cousins?”
She gave a wry smile. “I do indeed, sir. Would you mind if I called you Joshua? I hate all this silly formality, particularly when we might have been related.”
Joshua’s eyes widened with surprise. “You mean…?”
“Yes,” Lady Rosemary said with a laugh. “My mother and your aunt had a strange notion when Augustus and I were infants that we might make a suitable match.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Complete nonsense, of course, but one day, we met and agreed to differ with our parents. I think Gus realised I might be as forceful as his mother, and he… well… let us say his lifestyle and mine are not compatible. I don’t like the rackety people with whom he associates.”
“I see,” was all Joshua could think to say.
“I wonder if you do…”
The ball passed without incident. However much he might wish otherwise, Joshua learned it was not the done thing to mark a lady’s card for more than two dances, so Lady Rosemary introduced him to several other women – friends, by all accounts – all of whom were older, and accomplished in the social arts.
He lost track of time, caught up in the flow of the music. At midnight, he saw Charlie, leading his partner to the supper room, and they exchanged a grin.
Dawn was breaking when they returned to the villa. The sun was rising over a blue sky, a sign it would be another warm day, but in their somnolent state, they would see little of it. Was this how their social lives would be when they were staff officers in the army?
Charlie was amused when they recounted their experiences of the evening. “D’you know, Josh?” he said, stifling a yawn. “We have a perfect arrangement. You seem happier with the older women, and I… think the young beauties like me. I reckon if we continue like this, we’ll never have reason to quarrel over a woman.”
Joshua stared, bemused. “Why would we argue anyway, when there are enough for us both?”
For the first time, he felt at ease talking to women. His partner’s age did not bother him as much as his ability to complete the set piece of the dance, and he became more accomplished with each social event. He owed it all to Lady Rosemary – or Rosie, as she told him to call her.
Joshua knew from his lessons in etiquette that it was not appropriate for someone of his age to do that on such short acquaintance. She might do it with impunity, but he must observe the rules. To compromise, he maintained Rosie’s title and shortened the name. In response, she called him, Mr Joshua Norbery with a laugh in her voice.
From what he could judge, Lady Rosie was about the age of his sister, Caroline, but much friendlier, and there was little doubt her independent nature was the reason she was not married. She was a delightful companion, as was her cousin, Lady Alice Silverdale, newly emerged from her widow’s weeds, but several years younger.
As the weeks passed, hardly a day went by without them receiving invitations to evening parties, soirees, riding out to ruined temples with their friends, and dining alfresco in the embassy gardens. They were even included when visiting dignitaries came to the city.
When Dr Hawley recovered his strength, he too was included, and was present on the occasion when Lord Elgin, the British Ambassador from Constantinople, visited Athens. To their surprise, their tutor claimed a prior acquaintance with the peer, and was soon in animated conversation. The result of which: they were invited to join a group visiting the Acropolis.
Charlie was quiet when they left the embassy, but on one of the intervening days before the visit, Joshua came upon him standing in front of a mirror, raising an arched eyebrow.
He stood back and watched for a few minutes, wondering if this latest amusement had a purpose. Social posturing usually bored Charlie, and it showed in the flippant comments that rolled off his tongue.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m practising my look of disdain,” said Charlie, as if that explained everything.
“You’re doing what…?”
His friend shook his head and spoke slowly.
“In case I ever need to depress pretensions. Did you notice the haughty manner Lord Elgin used the other night at the embassy to deter people with whom he did not wish to speak? The Dowager uses it to good effect as well.”
Incredulity must have shown in Joshua’s face.
Charlie sighed. “I suppose giving a set-down comes easily to an ugly blighter like you, Norbery. Your face is naturally repellent, whereas my smiling countenance isn’t.” His merry laugh robbed the words of offence and dispelled any notion of vanity.
Joshua retaliated with a deft swipe of his hand, aimed at Charlie’s ear and left him to resume his facial gyrations. All the same, he knew they were a perfect foil for each other, and friends could say things like that without offence.
On the appointed day, they joined Dr Hawley and a party of their friends to watch artists in the Parthenon sketching artefacts, and saw craftsmen making casts of statues – a practice cultivated to enable wealthy visitors to take home replicas with which to adorn their homes. Even had they been inclined, such indulgence was beyond their means. Instead, like many others in the group, they committed the statues to memory in their sketchpads.
Several times in the succeeding weeks, under the escort of Sergeant Percival and his assistants, Dr Hawley took them to an earlier temple of the Acropolis, the Erechtheum, dedicated to Athena and Poseidon.