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Thomas frowned. “Have you spoken to her father yet? He may have ambitions for her beyond a country rectory.”
“I shall talk to Fletcher when matters have progressed a little further, but he will not stand in her way, I am sure of that. Come now, Thomas, you do not imagine that Fletcher will turn me away just because I am a second son, do you? I am exceedingly eligible, you know. Not, perhaps, in London, but in Hertfordshire there are not so many bachelors of respectable family with a house and a good income. No, Fletcher will not gainsay me. Ah, here is the carriage now.”
The carriage already contained Sir Owen, Lord Charles, Uncle Morgan and Michael, so James squeezed inside, and Thomas climbed onto the box beside Lawson to drive the short distance to Fairstead House. They were, of course, punctual to the minute, for Sir Owen would permit nothing less, which meant that they were almost the first to arrive. Only the Frye family, who were not quite gentry but admitted by virtue of distant kinship with the Williamson sisters, were there before them, wearing their very best clothes and excited faces.
Sir Owen’s arrival was the cue for the wine to be broached, and soon after another gaggle of guests arrived, leaving James free to loiter near the door awaiting Julia. He was in rather a quandary, for if Mrs Reynell should come through it first, he might not be able to avoid her and there was a serious risk that she would dig her claws into him for the whole evening, and then his time would be entirely wasted. But it was not Mrs Reynell whose face appeared next, it was Miss Paton and an unknown young lady with rosy cheeks, followed by Mr Fletcher and Mr Will Fletcher, and finally… there was Julia. His future wife.
He was loath to rush forward in such a public place and draw attention to his courtship, but he did not need to. Julia looked around the room, saw him, smiled and waggled her fingers at him. After such a greeting, it was only courtesy for him to move towards her, make his salutations to the family and then offer her his arm.
“Would you like some wine?” he said. “Shall we steer towards the footman over there with the tray?”
“I’d better not,” she said. “I shall be tipsy if I start drinking before I’ve even sat down. I like to have a glass of something beside me while I play, but you know how it is with standing about like this — sip, sip, sip and look at that, the glass is empty.”
“There is some lemonade on the sideboard over there. That could be relied upon not to make you tipsy.”
She agreed that it would not. As they made their way across the room, he noticed that the lace frill around her bodice was awry.
Leaning forward to whisper in her ear, he murmured, “There is something amiss with your lace.”
“Is there? Oh! Stupid thing!” She turned to face the wall, then with one tug, the lace came free and she stuffed it in her reticule. “Let’s hope Aunt Madge doesn’t notice. She’d say I was showing far too much bosom now. She says it’s very unattractive to flaunt so much flesh.”
“Does she? She is mistaken, however,” he said silkily, gazing with heroic self-control into her face. He too hoped that Aunt Madge would not notice, for she was liable to whisk her charge away to the retiring room to repair the damage and that would be a crying shame. Julia’s eyebrows rose in astonishment, and he deemed it advisable to change the subject hastily before she asked why. “Your friend, the one with the dark curls… does she make a long stay with you?”
“Friend? Oh, you mean Camilla. Oh dear, I forgot to introduce you. I am so bird-witted sometimes. Should you like to meet her?”
“No, not in the slightest,” he said promptly, making her laugh. “You are far more amusing company, I assure you. Besides, she is being very well entertained by Mr Osgood.”
And so she was, simpering and fluttering her eyelashes, while the future bishop smiled and patted her hand in an avuncular way. This raised all sorts of interesting ideas in Julia’s mind.
“Tell me about Mr Osgood,” she said. “Is he rich? Oh — he’s not married, is he?”
“Not married, and rather eligible, if that is where your thoughts are leading. He has two very good livings, worth fifteen hundred or so, and will inherit another two thousand a year from his father in time. I should have thought him rather a dry stick for your friend, who is…” He hesitated, groping for the most tactful description. “Well, she seems like an affectionate little thing.”
“Oh yes, very affectionate! No, I should not have thought it a good match under other circumstances, but—” She stopped abruptly, blushing fierily, which intrigued him so much that he almost asked what she meant by it. But just at that moment, the door was thrown open once more, and a hush fell upon the room. With a slight sway of the hips, Mrs Reynell slithered into the room. Slithered? Where had that word come from? And yet it was apt, for was she not something of a snake?
She was rather an elegantly dressed snake this evening, her silk gown foaming around her feet, and her bodice devoid of the slightest hint of lace to hide her ample charms.
James could not resist. Leaning towards Julia, he whispered into her ear, “Your aunt would not approve ofthat.”
So it was that when Mrs Reynell’s gaze fell upon him, she saw the two of them, heads together, laughing at the shared joke. It was perfect, he thought. Now the widow knows exactly where she stands.
But it was not quite perfect enough to avoid trouble. The widow’s eyes flashed dangerously. Seeing her preparing to bear down on him, he hastily said, “The tables are beginning to form. Shall we join your father?”
Steering Julia as fast as was decent across the room and away from the widow, he scooped up Mr Fletcher and looked wildly about for a fourth. “Ah, Mr Kelshaw! How do you do, sir? Do you know Mr Fletcher? Fletcher, this is Mr Kelshaw, whose estate is just to the west of Danes Green. Shall we take that table over there, gentlemen? Miss Fletcher?”
And it was done, the crisis averted. He did not turn his head to see how well Mrs Reynell bore his escape, or whether Thomas intervened to soothe her, for he picked up the pack of cards on the table, and kept up a patter of no moment as he shuffled and dealt. But it was some time before he could relax and enjoy the pleasure of the game and Julia’s company.
There was one unexpected outcome of his manoeuvrings. He remembered rather too late that Lady Frederica Kelshaw was a high stickler who would have nothing at all to do with upstarts like the Fletchers, and her dutiful husband had likewise avoided them. Now that they had been introduced, however inadvertently, they discovered certain interests in common. A casual enquiry by Kelshaw as to how the Fletchers were settling in at Chadwell Park brought forth a mention of the lack of hot water and the three coppers in the basement. Kelshaw’s face lit up at once, and in no time at all the two were discussing pipes and valves and heaven knows what else, and from there to Kelshaw’s favourite topic, water closets. Supper was taken up with sketches on scraps of paper and the evening ended with a promise from Kelshaw to call at the Park first thing the next day to determine the most advantageous locations for these wonders of the modern age.
And by dint of surrounding himself at every opportunity with Fletchers, and keeping Julia’s arm firmly linked to his as much as possible, James managed to avoid exchanging even bows with Mrs Reynell for the entire evening. It was a triumph, and he returned to the rectory well satisfied with his endeavours.
~~~~~
Chadwell Park was now thrown into a bustle of preparations for the forthcoming season in London. Although there were many weeks yet before their departure, there was much to do, and Julia could not escape her share of the business.
Numerous boxes had been filled with the very best silk and muslin and jaconet and kerseymere that the warehouses of Fletcher’s Import and Export Company could offer, brought south to be made up into gowns of every type imaginable. A famousmodistefrom London had been exclusively engaged to address the wardrobes of the Fletcher ladies, and this rather haughty personage and her two seamstresses had been assigned quarters in the main house, rather than the servants’ wing. An unused bedroom had been fitted out with large worktables, and given over entirely to the enterprise. Several hours each day were therefore devoted to measuring and fitting, and the scouring of journals to divine the most flattering and fashionable styles.
Julia had little interest in these affairs, and for her part would have avoided going to London altogether, if she could. However, since she was kept busy containing Camilla and could not go on her long walks, the dressmaking was as good a way as any of occupying the otherwise long, empty hours.
