It was a brief reprieve that the entry into Lady Hathaway’s house was such that Lily had never experienced or imagined. Penny had been right—the theme of the ball was the Tudor court. Lily had not had any idea how far Lady Hathaway was prone to take a notion, but it blessedly captured all her thoughts in that moment.
Rather than enter by the front door, they were led by a footman dressed in the Tudors’ favored green livery down a lit path to the back of the house. Whatever Lady Hathaway’s gardens had been, they were transformed to such that Henry VIII might have looked upon them with favor. First, a charming knot garden filled with hyssop, sweet briar, rose campion, and peonies, all cleverly made of colored papers. Then, hedges smartly trimmed and laid out in perfect order to guide one to a bridge fashioned as a barge, with running water flowing beneath it representing the Thames. It seemed they had arrived to Hampton Court.
Entering the back of the house, they were led down a series of corridors to the cloak room to deposit their coats and Lily was handed her dance card. Then it was on to the great hall. The space had been transformed into a scene from the 1500’s—wood beams had been installed on the ceiling and silk flags embroidered with the Tudor rose hung over their heads.
Lily was almost breathless with wonder by the time she made her curtsy to Lady Hathaway. Their hostess was dressed as a court lady, her ornate wide sleeves embroidered with pearls and gold thread. Her stiff headdress framed her face and was embedded with multi-colored stones.
Lily moved away and stood with her aunt, looking about for acquaintances. She would not admit who it was she looked for, but while she was at it, she could not help but notice a petite lady standing by a powerfully built gentleman. The lady was looking at her in the most determined manner. Now, the lady was making her way over.
Lily glanced behind her with the thought that perhaps she was mistaken. Perhaps it was not herself that lady sought.
She had not been mistaken. The lady said, “A friend pointed you out, though I feel I know you through your letter to me. Miss Farnsworth, I am Sybil—Cassandra’s friend.”
“Lady Lockwood!” Lily said, curtsying deeply.
“I am so pleased to find you here, may I know your friend?” Sybil asked.
“Of course,” Lily said, in a fluster. “This is my aunt, Mrs. Amelia Hemming.”
The ladies smiled at each other. Mrs. Hemming said, “Goodness, you’re a pretty little thing.”
Sybil’s amusement at the comment was evident, for which Lily was relieved. Sybil said, “You sound very like my husband, Mrs. Hemming.”
“I cannot thank you enough for your kindness to me,” Lily said. “All of you—Cassandra, Penny and yourself. I wear one of the gowns from your own modiste.”
Sybil examined the deep green silk with a pearl studded net overlay with an approving eye. “Very close to Tudor green, most fetching, I wish I’d had the notion. Now, I am very glad to see you, as my husband and I have only come down for Lady Hathaway’s evening. We are at sixes and sevens with redecorating at the moment, but I could not stay away from a Tudor ball. My father claims a winding descent from Margaret Beaufort, so family honor you see.”
“I am very glad you’ve come and we’ve had the chance to meet,” Lily said. In fact, she was delighted with Lady Lockwood and could see how Cassandra had so easily fallen into friendship with her.
“Mrs. Hemming,” Sybil said, “if you do not mind it, I will steal Miss Farnsworth away. The ball will open with a pavane and Lord Lockwood and I will be showing the steps to those bold enough to try it. We have been practicing for weeks and my lord will even now be gathering us all in the ballroom.”
“I do not mind a bit,” Mrs. Hemming said. “I’ve a mind to seek out the card room. A few games of whist will suit me.”
“You will find my father already there,” Sybil said, “Lord Blanding does enjoy his cards.”
“Lord Blanding is your father?” Mrs. Hemming said. “Oh yes. I know him. Very good player. I wonder if he’s matched up yet?” With that, Mrs. Hemming hurried off, set on seeking out a skilled partner.
Sybil grasped Lily’s hand and led her into the ballroom.
As had thegreat hall, the ballroom had been transformed from what it must usually be. It was all dark-paneled wood and overarching beams. The musicians were in Tudor court dress. While most of them had charge of the usual instruments for an orchestra, there were a few standing to one side that held lutes, while an enormous harpsichord stood in a corner.
A crowd of people of an age to dance were gathered at the far end of the ballroom. As Lily approached, she noted Penny there, with Lord Cabot by her side. Lord Grayson was there too, as well as some other acquaintances.
Lily had been so distracted, first by the unique entry to the house, then all its wonders and her introduction to Lady Lockwood, that she’d hardly had time to think. Now, her thoughts reverted back to Lord Ashworth. Those thoughts followed the same pattern they had all the day long. Certainly, he would not miss Lady Hathaway’s ball. Though, if he did choose to stay away, it must speak to his horror of having led her to believe in any sort of attachment. She had even heard of gentlemen thinking themselves gained of the unwanted affection of a lady hastily retreating to the countryside to allow things to cool off.
She put on her card player face and looked about.
He was not there.
*
Though both Cobband Molton had expressed how very much against the idea they were, Hayes had been determined to go out. The wound was nearly healed and only a small spot bled from time to time—something that could be easily managed with the right bandaging under his coat. It still ached, that could not be helped, but the danger of infection was long past and he did not think it would fully open under stress. He must make an appearance in public soon to avoid talk of his dying, or worse, rousing speculation that it was something other than a passing illness that kept him away.
Much longer in hiding and he would be accused of meeting another for a duel and becoming injured. Were that idea to go round, the speculation over who exactly he’d met would prove inconvenient. Why should he not go to Lady Hathaway’s ball? It was always amusing and he would put a stop to rumors before they started.
He had, at least, given in to his butler and valet regarding the means of his conveyance to the evening. It would be more usual that he rode his horse to such a crush—it was far simpler and very much quicker to get in and then back out again when it was only he and Horus. Cobb had outlined all the advantages of a carriage, including the idea that the grooms would be remarkably slow to saddle his horse, though remarkably fast to hitch up his carriage. Molton had only stood with crossed arms and nodded vigorously.
His whole house was in revolt over a horse. It was tedious, but he knew they were right. Into his carriage he went.
