Unwilling to admit why, even to herself, she dressed with especial care the following evening. Her gown was of a fashionable mustard yellow silk; the narrow boned bodice had a wide décolletage infilled with lace, gathered into a knot in the cleft of her bosom. The back was pleated from the neck to the floor and the sleeves had wide embroidered cuffs. Like so many of her gowns, she had made it herself with the help of her mother and it meant she could appear far more richly dressed than they could really afford.
Janet arranged her hair in a thick coil at the back of her neck and decorated it with two curling white feathers which were all the rage. She had a fan of chicken feathers which had been brought out of her mothers trunk at the same time as the old gowns. She knew she looked well and smiled at herself in her dressing mirror as Janet put the finishing touches to her toilette and then bent to slip her feet into tan leather shoes. She would have liked shoes to match her gown, with embroidered toes and painted heels, but that was not to be and she hoped, in the crush, no one would notice her serviceable footwear.
Partridge harnessed the cob to the battered chaise and drove them to the Assembly Rooms. I hope he does not mean to take us right up to the door, Annabelle whispered to her sister. It would be too mortifying to be seen arriving in this.
Why? Lydia asked, amused. Everyone knows us and they know our circumstances. Why pretend to be something we are not?
We do not have to advertise it. And supposing the Earl is there?
Lydia laughed. Of course he will not be there. Why should he interest himself in a country lecture?
Then why have you dressed yourself in your best gown? I thought
Good heavens, Annabelle, I would certainly not dress to impress that fiend. How could you think it? I hate him and all he stands for. You know that.
Oh. Then why? Have you got a beau?
Annabelle, she said impatiently. You know very well I have not.
What about Sir Arthur?
What about him?
Mama thinks you should set your cap at him.
What a vulgar expression! And I shall do no such thing. Now, may we drop the subject?
They had arrived at the meeting rooms and Partridge drew up behind the carriages already standing in line, waiting to discharge their occupants. Others of the audience had walked from houses nearby and were jostling their way into the building. Lydia and Annabelle followed them in and found their seats. There was a great deal of noise in the hall as friend greeted friend and exchanged news and gossip, but when the town mayor, who was acting as master of ceremonies, walked on to the stage followed by two or three other dignitaries who took seats arranged behind the lectern, everyone became silent and turned to listen.
Lydia, who had been holding her breath for this moment, let it out in a sigh of disappointment. The speaker, when he was introduced and stood to begin his talk, was not the young gentleman she had been hoping for, but a middle-aged man with a red, bewhiskered face and a huge stomach which threatened to burst the buttons off his black waistcoat. There was nothing she could do but appear interested in what he had to say, but appearances were deceptive because her mind was miles away, in a rainy street in Chelmsford.
Oh, why had she not provided her name when asked for it? Even the name of her village would have been enough if he had meant it when he said he hoped to see her again. But had he meant it? He was doing no more than enjoy a little harmless flirtation with a young woman. Not a lady, for all he called her one, for he would never have presumed to speak so familiarly to anyone highborn. But would anyone highborn have been standing in the rain and not a carriage or servant in sight? She was becoming more than a little desperate if one chance encounter could set her mind in such confusion.
She was being very foolish. Her future was already mapped out for her: a sensible marriage to provide for her mother in her old age, furnish Annabelle with a dowry and send John to public school, now that he was becoming too old for the day school he attended in Burnham, all things her father would have done, but for that devil up at the Hall. And there was no one she knew of who might do that except Sir Arthur Thomas-Smith.
What would it be like married to him? Oh, she could guess. Humdrum, thats what it would be. A daily grind of looking after his house and his daughters, acting as hostess at boring suppers and card games, looking forward with an inordinate amount of pleasure to attending meetings like this, lectures, readings, with the occasional country dance to liven things up. As for the marriage bed But as she knew nothing whatever about that piece of furniture and what happened in it, her imagination failed her.
She was startled to hear those about her applauding and realised the lecture had come to the halfway stage and she had not heard a single word. She forced herself back to the present and clapped politely.
There are refreshments in the next room, Annabelle said, as everyone stood up and made a beeline for the door. I am very thirsty and I saw Sir Arthur go in there a moment ago.
Lydias heart sank. So? The man may come to a lecture, may he not?
Yes, but nows your chance. You could speak to him.
And what am I to say? Am I to throw myself at his feet and beg him to marry me?
Annabelle laughed. No, you goose, but you could make yourself agreeable. Oh, look, here he comes.
Sir Arthur, his waistcoat straining across his front and his ill-fitting wig slightly lopsided, was bowing over her. Miss Fostyn, may I have the pleasure of escorting you into the supper room? For a big man his voice was extraordinarily high, almost effete.
Smiling, she lifted her hand, and allowed him to take it and raise her to her feet. Thank you, sir.
Mrs Fostyn is not here tonight?
No, she is a little fatigued. I brought my sister instead. May I present Annabelle to you?
Miss Annabelle. He bowed towards her with exaggerated civility which made the young lady stifle a laugh behind her fan.
Together they walked into the next room where a cold collation and large bowls of punch and cordial were set on a long table at one end of the room and left for everyone to help themselves and take to small tables arranged in the body of the room. Sir Arthur found seats for them and went to fight his way through the throng to obtain food for them.
Lydia, there is Peregrine Baverstock, Annabelle hissed, nodding in the direction of a young man in a pink satin suit and red high-heeled shoes who was standing on the periphery of a group on other side of the room.
Baverstock? Lydia queried. You mean Lord Baverstocks son?
Yes. Who else should I mean?
How did you come to meet him?
At Lady Brothertons, when I went to Carolines birthday celebration. He was one of the guests. Oh, I do believe he has spotted me.
The young man had indeed seen her, for he made his way through the crowd and bowed before them. Miss Annabelle.
Good evening, Mr Baverstock, Annabelle said, laughing at his formality. I did not expect you here.
Had to come. Parents insisted. Glad I did now. His face was fiery red.
May I present you to my sister?
Miss Fostyn, your obedient. May I take Miss Annabelle to be presented to my parents?
Annabelle looked at Lydia. May I go?
Had to come. Parents insisted. Glad I did now. His face was fiery red.
May I present you to my sister?
Miss Fostyn, your obedient. May I take Miss Annabelle to be presented to my parents?
Annabelle looked at Lydia. May I go?
Of course.
Annabelle was gone in an instant. Who could blame her for preferring the enlivening company of a young man nearer her own age than Sir Arthur? Lydia asked herself.
She certainly would.
Why, if it isnt my little water nymph.
Startled, she looked up and found herself gazing into the brown eyes of the man from Chelmsford. He was soberly dressed in a plain black coat and matching breeches with a white waistcoat and stockings. Sir, she managed, though her heart was beating so fast she was almost too breathless to speak. What are you doing here?
I was about to ask you the same question. Are you interested in India?
Oh, very, she said.
Would you like me to introduce you to the speaker? I have known him for some time. We both served under Lord Clive.
Oh, I had forgot you came from that continent, she lied.
There is no reason why you should have remembered a chance remark, he said. Nor remembered me.
No. She was so tongue-tied her usual easy manner quite deserted her.
But you did? You knew me as soon as I spoke.
You remembered me.
How could I forget? he said softly. One minute the shop doorway was empty and the next it contained an apparition of such exquisite beauty I was transfixed. Did you come safely home?
Yes, thank you. She felt the warmth creep up her cheeks and wished she could control it, knowing he could not fail to see it, so closely was he studying her. It was most disconcerting.
And you took no harm from your wetting?
I did not get wet, sir, but you did. I hope you did not catch cold. After India, the climate here must be very trying
Not a bit of it. It is wonderful. The rain is so gentle, the wind but a zephyr breeze, the trees so green, the flowers so delicate and their perfume heady. I am drunk with it.
La, sir, she said, laughing. Are you sure it is not the punch? I believe it is an Indian concoction made up in honour of the subject and can be very potent.
Indeed, yes. In India, where I first sampled it, the spirit it contained was arrack, but I imagine that has been substituted in this case with brandy. May I fetch you some? The lime and spices in it make it a refreshing drink.
No, thank you, I am being looked after.
Of course, he said, suddenly serious. You would not be here alone, how silly of me.
There you are, my dear. Such a dreadful crush. Sir Arthur was approaching, balancing three plates precariously in two hands. Seeing the young man with Lydia, he stopped, his mouth half open. Someone, who had not realised he had come to a sudden halt, jolted his elbow and the whole lot tipped over his waistcoat and down his breeches. In the ensuing confusion, while servants came to clear up the mess and he was led away to have his clothes cleaned, the young man from Chelmsford disappeared. Lydia, who wanted desperately to laugh at the sight of Sir Arthur with broken pigeon pie and bits of chicken leg, not to mention fruit tartlets, clinging to the satin and brocade of his suit, was almost reduced to tears when she realised the young man had gone.
He had been so handsome and attentive. He made her legs weak and her hands shake and she realised that the thread was still there, stronger than ever, so why had Fate denied her the opportunity to further their acquaintance? Wealthy and not likely from a background where lineage and blood counted for much, he would have fitted the bill as a husband very well. She would not have minded being married to him. And Sir Arthur had spoiled it all, spoiled her evening. It just wasnt fair.
The bell went for the end of the intermission, Annabelle returned to her and they resumed their seats for the second half of the lecture, most of it of a political nature and very boring indeed. Annabelle, too, was bored, and could hardly wait for the polite applause which signalled the end of the lecture to tell Lydia all about her interview with Perrys parents, who had been most gracious towards her. He is the one, she told Lydia. He is the one I am going to marry. I can feel it. Here. And she put her hand on her heart.
Lydia resisted the temptation to laugh. Oh, Annabelle, it is too soon.
No, it is not. If we are to find husbands, then we must do it quickly, you know that. She paused. The only difficulty I can see is my lack of a dowry. Lord Baverstock would expect one, wouldnt he?
Yes, I think he would.
Then the sooner you marry Sir Arthur the better. Mama said
I know what Mama said, Lydia interrupted her, as they made their way to the exit, standing in the crush while everyone waited for their carriages to be brought up to the door. In the euphoria of meeting the young man again she did not want to be reminded of her duty.
Ah, Miss Fostyn.
Lydia turned to find Sir Arthur at her elbow and wondered if he could possibly have heard Annabelles remarks. He was wearing a long overcoat which he had buttoned from neck almost to hem to hide his stained suit. It looked as though he had borrowed it from his coachman.
Sir Arthur. I am sorry for your mishap.
Oh, twas nothing. I am only sorry you were deprived of your supper. May I escort you home?
No, thank you, sir. We have our own coach.
Then may I call and pay my respects to your mama in the near future?
I am sure she will be pleased to receive you, sir.
The crowd had thinned while they had been talking and Lydia was suddenly aware of her umbrella man watching her, watching them both with a look on his face which was both quizzical and disapproving. He stepped forward and bowed. Goodnight, my lady.
She found herself dipping a small curtsy and smiling. Goodnight, my lord.
Who was that? Annabelle demanded, when they were settled in the chaise and were trotting towards Colston.
I have no idea.
But you called him my lord.
He called me my lady, so why not?
Who does he think you are, then?
I dont know that either. We are perfect strangers.
It didnt look like that to me. Is that why you are wearing your best gown? You expected him to be here. Oh, what will Mama say?
She will say nothing, because you are not to tell her.
Oh, a secret. Have you an assignation with him? Oh, Lydia, he is so handsome, but supposing he is a mountebank?
I am sure he is nothing of the kind. And I do not have an assignation with him. Whatever gave you that idea? We spoke half a dozen words while you were busy fluttering your eyelashes at Peregrine Baverstock
At least I was doing it to some purpose. You seem to have gained nothing. But there, I suppose we should hold to the maxim that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
Whatever do you mean?
Sir Arthur. He is going to call, is he not? He would not do that if he were not serious.
Annabelle, if you mention Sir Arthur just once more, I shall slap your face, really I will. Let it be, will you?
Oh, if you are going to fly into a temper, then I shall say no more. But if you want me to keep your secret from Mama, then you will have to find a way of persuading me.