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“Lord Fawkland and I got in after tea time yesterday, and we had so much to do,” Julia admitted and Charity suppressed her pang of sadness at the broken tradition with the promise that they would have tea another afternoon. Julia was married, but still she knew how little Julia liked large gatherings, and the ballroom was particularly a crush.
“I did not really expect to see you here, Julia,” Charity said. “I know you hate crowds.”
Lord Fawkland reminded me that as the baroness, I have a duty to be seen. Anyway, I could hardly stay away,” Julia said. “Lavinia twisted my arm most ardently. After all, what sort of friends would we be to leave you here alone for the opening ball, when it has always been us three?”
For a moment, Charity felt almost at home. She had her friends around her, but when Baron Fawkland returned with drinks for his wife and Lavinia, and the topic turned to redecorating Julia’s townhouse in Bath, she felt somewhat out of place in the matronly conversation.
Charity watched with no small amount of jealousy as her friends held on to the arms of their new husbands. Charity was amazed at how quickly things might change. Only last summer the three ladies had been giggling and weaving though the crowds in pursuit of love together. Now, Charity felt like a spinster, left behind as the two of them shared secrets with their spouses. In no time at all they would have children and she feared they would grow even more apart.
She shook that thought from her head. Charity was nowhere near the age of a spinster. Her mother’s lectures must have been taking hold of her thoughts because Charity knew well that she still had many years before she was past her prime.
She turned her attention to the unmarried ladies in their party: the three younger Poppy sisters, Alfreda, Roberta and Francesca, as well as their friend Miss Flora Muirwood. Flora was shorter than the Poppy’s with a sallow complexion. She had dark hair and dark eyebrows that resisted being arched which gave her a serious expression. With the crowd of chattering females around her, Charity learned a great deal of the gossip running through the summer season as they waited and weighed the different gentlemen who had come to Bath.
“Mr. Crafton, over there,” Roberta Poppy gave a covert nod to the gentleman across the way, “made quite a fool of himself today. I heard tell.”
“What source?” James gasped in mock surprise.
“Why, you, of course!” his sister replied giving her brother a little push. “Go on then. Tell the tale.”
James went on to share that this afternoon past he witnessed one Mr. Crafton being bodily expelled from the gaming room at nearly midday.
“For shame, Mr. Poppy, spreading gossip,” Julia admonished him. “You should know better.”
“I shall bow to your chastisement, Lady Fawkland,” he said with a literal bow, and Charity found herself smiling.
“Mr. Crafton has a…more sober countenance tonight,” James observed. “It is astonishing that he has managed to join us.” His tone implied that he was not fond of Mr. Crafton, though Charity knew few who were. The gentleman was known well throughout Bath as one who fell too far into his cups, often making some scene or another. True ladies knew well to give him a wide berth.
“It appears the fleet has landed,” Baron Fawkland said as several men in naval dress uniforms entered the ballroom.
Patience’s eyes took in the new arrivals and she caught Charity’s arm. “Oh, do look! Amelia has arrived, and Commander Beresford. Let us go and speak to them. You might offer your congratulations.” Charity nodded to Patience but hesitated as several of the men moved to greet the new arrivals. When Charity has last spoken socially with Lady Amelia Atherton, she had cross words for her. There was of course, the event of The Duke of Ely’s funeral, but Lady Amelia had been too distraught to truly speak, and Charity had yet not apologized.
“Go on,” Charity said. “I will join you shortly.” In truth, Charity could not find it in herself to approach Lady Amelia until she apologized for her unkind words, and that would not happen in so public a place. Charity turned back to the Poppys, determined to have a good time and put all the intrigues of finding a husband in the background for the moment. She was inundated with offers to dance and laughing, she accepted. After several dances she returned to the section of the ball room the Poppys had claimed for their own.
She noticed Miss Macrum, and wondered aloud, “Where is Miss Danbury?” The two women were not often seen apart. The detail was notable. Neither Miss Macrum, nor Miss Danbury would wish to miss such a varied array of gentlemen for single evening. No one who was anyone missed the opening ball of the Bath’s summer season.
The crowd fell silent around Charity. The buzz of the room carried on, but Charity’s circle of friends stared back at her with wide, shocked eyes as if she had said something scandalous.
“What is it?” Charity asked with a shake of her head. “Have I missed something?”
“Something?” Francesca laughed. “Only everything!”
The youngest of the Poppy sisters linked her arm through her friend’s and moved close to whisper the tale of intrigue and scandal.
“Miss Danbury has removed from Bath,” Franny murmured. The others stepped closer to hear the sweet gossip retold, adding their own nods and details as she went.
“No!” Charity gasped. There were only two reasons why a lady might remove at the height of the social season, death or dishonor.
“She has returned to her country house,” Alfreda said. “Practically flogged by that dragon of a chaperone she has. Although it is no wonder…”
Dishonor it was then. “Mrs. Mott?” Charity was having trouble catching up to this particular bit of gossip, and how far along it went.
“Tis true,” Lavinia nodded. “Their townhouse is across the road from my aunt’s and it stands empty. The entire family has left: her sisters, and her elderly aunt. Her father seemed in quite a rage at the time of their departure.”
“They never even bid farewell, though they had borrowed our horses the day before,” James added with a shake of her head.
“How rude,” Roberta commented.
“This is all very suspect,” Julia said, “but I will not add to the rumor, not should you Lavinia. You know how these things take on a mind of their own.”
