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Chapter 13
“I am gratified to seethat you are free of your cane, Miss Jennings,” Viscount Whitley said. “But more than that, I am compelled to say that I was moved by your performance at the pianoforte this evening. I daresay Lady Melton’s musicale has been a highlight of the Season for me thus far, and your performance is one of the reasons.”
“Thank you most kindly, Lord Whitley,” Rebecca said. “I fear you flatter me.”
“Not at all, I assure you,” Lord Whitley said. He glanced around. “And it would appear I am not the only person present who wishes to congratulate you on your splendid performance. Perhaps we may speak again later, when there isn’t such a large group of people waiting to offer their best to you.” He bowed over her hand and disappeared into the crush of people who were in attendance.
Susan had told Lady Walmsley that Rebecca was something of a musical prodigy, which was an exaggeration, certainly, as far as Rebecca was concerned, and Lady Walmsley had passed that bit of information on to Lady Melton, who, in turn, had asked Rebecca to perform, along with a few other individuals, at her musicale Monday evening, three days before Rebecca’s come-out ball. “You are a fresh talent in our midst, Miss Jennings, and so you will be a feast to our earsandour eyes,” Lady Melton had said.
Rebecca had consented, as she had done on so many occasions at home. She had learned over the years that performing was one of the expectations of having musical training and one had better accustom oneself to it. So she shared her talent and was generally happy to do so—although this particular evening, she had been a bundle of nerves, having a different and more discerning audience than she was used to having back in Lower Alderwood. Back at home, they knew her well and were, therefore, more forgiving of the occasional wrong note.
She glanced about quickly after Lord Whitley left her side; Susan and Aylesham stood not far away, speaking with Lord and Lady Melton. The Duke and Duchess of Atherton were with them. It reassured her to know her sister and brother-in-law were nearby.
The next person to speak to her was Lady Walmsley. “I simply could not rest until I had told you how your music filled my heart, my dear!” she exclaimed as she clutched both of Rebecca’s hands in her own. “The brilliance of your Mozart! And that encore! Well, Beethoven himself could not have performed it with such—what’s the word?—passion! Yes. But also, sensitivity. Passion and sensitivity. Two words, then. Do you not agree?” she asked, glancing around at the guests near her, who all nodded. “You see? They agree with me.”
“Thank you, Lady Walmsley,” Rebecca said. She couldn’t help but feel rather conspicuous; that was something she hadn’t quite gotten used to after performing—even at home.
“Aunt Margaret, dear girl. You must remember to call me Aunt Margaret.” She squeezed Rebecca’s hands and then moved on, and others greeted Rebecca and complimented her performance. Eventually, and much to Rebecca’s relief, the cluster of guests around her diminished, allowing her to breathe a bit.
“Ah, finally,” a familiar male voice said. “I had nearly given up hope.”
It was Hugh. He had given her permission to call him by his Christian name.
“I doubt that,” Rebecca said. “I have yet to see you thwarted in your endeavors.”
“You might be surprised,” he said. “But that is neither here nor there. Your performance was exceedingly fine, by the way.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca said. Hugh Mandeville was obviously trying to court her; he’d taken her driving through Hyde Park the day after Almack’s, and they’d had a pleasant time, enjoying the afternoon sunshine and greeting acquaintances. He’d also made a point of chatting with her after church services on Sunday. He was handsome, with his brown eyes hinting of humor and his charismatic smile.
Rebecca was growing rather fond of him. She had even begun to wonder if she might fall in love with him.
Ben’s visage appeared before her.
“What is it?” Hugh asked, his brows lowering. “I can see that something has changed.”
Oh, Ben!Whymust he keep her from enjoying the attention she was receiving, and from a handsome, eligible suitor, to boot! Rebecca beamed at Hugh. “Nothing has changed,” she said, feeling defiant inside. “If you sensed something, perhaps it is merely that I could use some refreshment.”
His face brightened. “But of course! I should have thought of that myself. May I escort you to the refreshment table, or would you prefer to sit and rest your freshly healed foot while I bring refreshments to you?”
It seemed everyone was always bringing her refreshments. She silently chided herself for the unkind thought. “I believe I would prefer to sit, thank you,” she said.
He nodded, offered her his arm, and led her to a chair at the side of the room. “For we must keep those feet of yours healthy for your come-out ball day after next, mustn’t we?” he said as they walked.
She smiled in response but said nothing.
He left her once she’d seated herself and disappeared into the crush between her and the refreshment table.
“That one’s a mystery,” Aunt Margaret said, settling with a bit of a plop into the chair next to Rebecca’s, which was rather surprising in and of itself since Aunt Margaret was but a bird of a woman. “Mr. Mandeville, I mean. Could have married before now—in fact, I’m quite certain he was a favorite of several of the young ladies a few years back, and then . . . nothing! And then he wasn’t even in London as far as I can remember, at least not last year or perhaps the one before that. I could be wrong, you know; I was rather involved with discovering my grandniece at the time and—such a wonderful thing it was to find her too!—so I can’t be entirely sure, of course. He seems to have taken a shine to you, though, but then that’s no surprise, is it? Such a beautiful presence you are, my dear! And so gifted too. I could listen to you play the pianoforte all day long, I believe, but I wouldn’t wish to wear your fingers to the bone. Ah, your admirer returns.”
Hugh had cut through the guests and was carrying two glasses of punch.
“Lady Walmsley,” he said. “I had a feeling Rebecca would not remain by herself for long. I am glad I thought to bring two glasses of punch.” He offered the first glass to Aunt Margaret and the second to Rebecca.
Obviously, the glass of punch had been for himself, but Rebecca gave him credit for handling the situation smoothly.
“Mr. Mandeville, how thoughtful you are!” Aunt Margaret said. “I was just now telling Miss Jennings how popular you were with the young ladies of thetona few years back and that I hadn’t recalled seeing you in recent years. I hope you weren’t unwell?”
Hugh’s face took on a somewhat unreadable expression. “Not unwell, Lady Walmsley, but thank you for asking. I’m afraid I was occupied in the past while with matters of a personal nature, which required that I not travel to Town for the Season, ’tis all. Not unlike many others of Society, you know.” He nodded at Rebecca. “Not unlike our lovely friend here, for example. We must go where family and duty call us, mustn’t we?”
