Authors: Lizzie Church
Lydia thanked her for the sentiment, wisely ignoring the rather
unflattering reference to her aunt
. She wrapped her shawl more closely about her as she descended into the hall and hoped that the others present would share the housemaid’s view. She had enough vanity, after all, even to be pleased with Charles’ admiring stare as their paths crossed
(
a
lthough she did berate herself
for this
afterwards,
in no uncertain terms
)
.
It was with such thoughts that she joined the remainder of the party in the saloon and such thoughts prevented her from feeling too much envy at Julia’s magnificent white satin ball gown, with overdress and train, decorated with silver acorns which glinted mesmerizingly in the light. Her own muslin was well over two years old and whilst she had done her best to keep it up to date it could not compete, either in style or elegance, with Julia’s fine gown.
Julia herself was in a playful mood.
‘La, Lydia,’ cried she, prancing round her cousin with a little skip and jump. ‘I didn’t think that gown would suit you half as well as it does. You look almost fine, cousin – scarcely the dependent relative at all!’
Lydia could only smile at her naivety.
‘But naturally, Julia,’ she agreed, smoothly. ‘Dependent relatives, like old maids, have an unfortunate tendency to become boring individuals, wouldn’t you say? Far better, then, to forget my sorry position for a night and act the lady while I can.’
‘I think she looks very well,’ muttered Charles. ‘Lydia don’t need expensive gowns and trinkets to look good – I doubt there’ll be a primer looking article in the whole of the room.’
Fortunately these remarks were lost amidst the bustle in the hallway as the landau was announced. Mrs Abdale, magnificent in pink satin gown and turban, settled herself comfortably in mild anticipation of the evening ahead. Despite her protestations about their ill effects upon her health she rather enjoyed the occasional ball where she could show off the expensive clothes of herself
and her daughter
, gossip with her acquaintances about the poor showing of any of her neighbours who were cle
arly at a lower ebb than she was
, and maybe win a little extra at the card table by the bye. Her interest in the dancing was strictly limited to what was her duty – making sure that her daughter was neither neglected, nor cold, and did not stand by the wall where she could not properly be seen.
Julia’s excited chatter was unceasing. It rivalled the rumble of the carriage wheels as the horses trotted on down the drive.
‘I wonder if the Brannigans will be there,’ she mused. ‘Lucy and Jane will be sure to come along if only they are back from Basingstoke in time. And what of Mrs Jones – will she be there in the same old gown she wears every year, mama? Do you think she will? I shall die if she does.’
‘I scarcely know, Julia – how could you expect me to, indeed? I have been so poorly of late and spent so many days confined to my room, as you know, that I have been quite unable to pay my usual round of calls at this time of year. We shall find out when we get there, sure enough...Lydia, Lydia – pass me that shawl immediately. I am in such a draught here as you would never imagine. I must speak to Abdale about replacing this landau – it really is too bad...’
As they neared the ‘Black Swan’ the sound of music and voices, and the brilliant lights of coaches drifting across the darkness, and the blazing candles within, all announced the fact that festivities were already underway. Lydia had time for only a quick peep down the village street as she stepped out of the carriage before finding herself inside the inn. They made their way quickly into the ballroom, where a dance was already underway, Mrs Abdale having selected a fashionably late entrance time in order to cause the maximum
possible impact
on the ever-admiring neighbourhood. The glittering lights dazzled them for a moment after the darkness of the carriage but after a while Lydia was able to see well enough to look about and take in the scene. The room was a handsome one, large enough to hold maybe twenty couples, while through an open door some older folk were already immersed in a rubber in a smaller room off. A third door, currently closed, suggested a tea room. All in all it seemed to be an excellent arrangement. She was enjoying herself already.
Much to her relief Charles disappeared immediately on leaving the carriage and Lydia and Julia were able to take their places in the set with a couple of officers of Julia’s acquaintance who were stationed nearby. The dance was one that Lydia knew well and she was able to converse quite happily with Captain Briggs without fear that she would lose her place. Her partner was witty and amusing enough and it seemed no time at all before their two dances were over and she was back with her party again.
It was unfortunate that, just at this time, Charles returned from having renewed his acquaintance with some of the locals over a few ales and immediately claimed her hand for the next two dances. She would rather have stood out on her own than dance with him but she felt under some obligation to him for actually being at the ball at all. So she swallowed her dislike sufficiently to give him her hand with seeming goodwill and took her place at the bottom of the set opposite him. It was even more unfortunate that their dances immediately preceded supper. There was no chance of escaping him – she must allow him to take his refreshment at her side.
‘Thank you for all your kind attention, cousin,’ she said, as she finished her meal, in a desperate attempt to rid herself of him for a while. ‘But please don’t feel obliged to stay with me all night. There are plenty of pretty girls here who must be desperate to have you as a partner. I must not keep your attentions all to myself.’
‘Do you think that I want any of them when I already have the prettiest woman in the room at my side?’ he demanded, rather thickly. She hoped he had not drunk too much. It seemed a distinct possibility.
‘You flatter me, Charles,’ she laughed, trying to sweep the compliment aside. ‘But maybe if there is none so pretty there are many who will be richer, or more amusing. I am persuaded that your mama would rather you dance with them than with me.’
It was completely the wrong thing for her to say. She realised it at once.
‘Damn my mother,’ he shouted, trying to lead her out once more by the simple expedient of tugging at her sleeve. ‘I dance to please myself, no
t
my wretched mama.’
Julia had been a little more in luck than her unfortunate cousin in that Edward Churchman, entering the room towards the end of the second dance, was able neatly to appropriate her and take her in to supper. Seeing Lydia and Charles they joined them at their table.
‘How are you enjoying yourself, Miss Barrington?’ asked Edward, directing an admiring glance towards the wondrous folds of Charles’ white cravat. ‘You must find our small-town balls quite provincial after the much more splendid events you will have been used to at home.’
‘Not at all,’ smiled Lydia, grateful for this opportunity to put off her next engagement with Charles. ‘You are quite mistaken, Captain Churchman. I was not often able to go to the assemblies at Bradbury, but they were nothing out of the ordinary, I can assure you. This ball is quite fine enough for me.’
‘I’m glad you think so. Certainly,’ with a smile for Julia, ‘I can find nothing amiss with it.’
‘Then your opinion shall hold sway on the matter.’
‘A natural decision – and a wise one. I am always pleased to hear my views seconded – it says a great deal for the intelligence of my acquaintance! Perhaps you would care to partner me in the next dance?’
‘I should be delighted, especially as you hold me in such high esteem. I am sure my cousin will excuse me – he has been stuck with me for most of the evening, I fear.’
Even Charles was unable to hinder her from taking her place with Edward and it was with some relief that she spotted him disappearing into another room for a while. Lydia noticed a glimmer of satisfaction on the somewhat sharp face of Mrs Abdale as they passed her on the way into the ballroom. She could not deny herself a wicked sense of triumph at that good lady’s total misreading of the situation.
‘Branton is quite a favourite with me,’ Edward was saying. ‘I consider there to be a lot to be said for a local event – there is not the crush that you find in Town.’
‘I expect it is much more fun to meet up with all your acquaintance and enjoy a gossip than to be in a crowd of strangers and on your best behaviour all the time.’
‘Gossip? I shouldn’t have thought you a gossip, Miss Barrington. Surely you are quite above that sort of thing?’
‘And why should I not gossip? Neighbours are, after all, the most interesting creatures in the world after oneself, and if you are not to gossip about them how ever are you to find out what is going on?’
‘I’m sure you must be right. You must find Abdale very tedious, then, with just my family as neighbours.’
‘I hope you are not fishing for a compliment, sir. And what am I to say? Do I find you tedious, and not worthy of consideration, or do I find you interesting, and feed your evident vanity?’
Edward had to acknowledge
her dilemma
. His own family, he conceded, was the most worthy of neighbourly interest of any he was acquainted with, with the exception of the residents of Abdale House. Whether or not he could approve of gossip, though, remained a little uncertain. Lydia was ready to tease him further about it but the dance took them apart for a while and the conversation dwindle
d
until the music stopped.
It was odd, but knowing that Edward had no serious intentions towards her made her feel a good deal easier in his company than she had done before. Despite her disapproval she decided to enjoy his friendship for what it was. After all, he was personable and amusing and she was not above enjoying the attention he paid her, even if it was designed for the benefit of somebody else. Why ruin what she had when there was no real harm being done?
The dance over, and Edward returning to Julia’s side (Mrs Abdale having safely disappeared into the card room once again) Lydia was unable to put off her next dance with Charles. At a break in the set she took the opportunity to scan the room for the remainder of the Churchman party. At first she could see nothing of them but then, accompanied by a most pleasurable quickening of the heart which she did not care to comprehend, she saw Henry Churchman looking as immaculate and untouchable as ever, attending his partner at the far end of the room. She watched him for a moment. He was conversing easily with the young lady at his side, resting his hand on the back of her chair and bending forward slightly to hear her words better. His partner was very slim and very blonde, in a pale blue, almost transparent muslin gown. She was sipping a glass of lemonade, delicately, by the fire. Lydia screwed up her face. Delicate young ladies always incurred her scorn. It was disappointing that Mr Churchman seemed so totally absorbed by her.
Her partner was alternating a somewhat laboured conversation with periods of concentration, the demands of the dance proving to be rather more than he had bargained for.
‘Lord, Lydia,’ he was complaining as she dragged her attention back to him. ‘Will this bit never end? I am all for dancing, god knows, but this set is so damned complicated I’ll be beggared if I can work out what to do.’
‘You need to concentrate a little more, Charles,’ was her reply. ‘You need only follow the couple ahead and all will be well.’
‘That’s easy enough for you to say. You are as good at dancing as you are at everything. I don’t know that there’s anything that you can’
t do
. Mind you, I shall beat you at something in my own good time – and when that time comes be certain I shall succeed. I shall enjoy beating you, damn you, and watching you squirm.
’
‘But that is what you will never do. I should never be such a simpleton as to attempt to spar with you.’
‘I wish you would. I could get the better of you then.’
The rest of the evening dragged on. She danced again with Edward Churchman, and once more with Captain Briggs, but she was already feeling tired, not being used to sitting up late at Abdale. Henry Churchman remained with his party the whole evening and Julia was in such demand that she was
left dancing alone with Charles
for much of the time.
All she received was a somewhat formal, distant bow from him when he happened to look in her direction at the same moment that she was looking in his.
She berated herself for having expected far too much from the ball. What had she expected, after all? Certainly the whole affair had been sadly over-rated. She heard the clock strike midnight at last and on the whole she was not sorry to see Mrs Abdale emerging from the card
room, happy to have won herself
five shillings from an old adversary, and announcing that it was time to go home.
Once back in the security of the carriage Lydia was able to muse in silence as her cousin chattered incessantly about the evening’s happenings. All had held a fascination for her. No detail had been missed.
‘Was not Miss Tyler-Jones in poor looks tonight, mama? I declare I scarcely recognised her. And what made her wear that lemon tulle gown with such huge feathers? I really cannot imagine what she
was at. And as for Mrs Wright – did you notice Mrs Wright
, mama? – she was seated at the fireside for the whole evening. I never saw her move all the time, apart from when she went for a dish of tea and then she wrapped herself around so much with that ugly great shawl of hers. I cannot abide that particular shade of green...’