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“Remember to keep your backs straight and your heads raised. Dainty steps as you walk. Mind your gowns on the stairs. Avoid the champagne — lemonade is better. Remember to look your partner in the eye as you dance.”
No one replied.
Eventually they drew up outside the rather unappealing coaching inn where the ball was to take place, which at least had a private entrance to the assembly room. Only one other carriage was before them, but more were pulling up behind, and there were footmen to show them the way and lamps lit on the narrow stairs. At the top of the stairs, they handed their cloaks to other footmen, and were ushered into the assembly room.
They were almost the first there. A small group huddled near the fire, but otherwise there was only the receiving group, their smiles already looking strained as the Fletchers were announced. Lady Pinner was a rotund woman rather overdressed in green satin and mountains of lace, with diamonds everywhere. Lord Pinner was portly, too, and the two sons were already showing incipient signs of stoutness. The daughter, on the other hand, was rail thin. Their neighbour from Hertfordshire, Lady Frederica Kelshaw, hovered behind the Pinners, smirking at the new arrivals over Lady Pinner’s shoulder. And what cause had she to smirk? Will was aware of a twinge of alarm. If Lady Frederica was pleased they were come, then there was some mischief afoot, that was for sure.
“Mrs Fletcher,” Lady Pinner trilled. “Delightful. Positively delightful. And so this is Miss Fletcher.” Her gaze slid past Rosie’s demurely lowered eyes and fell on Angie, quivering with excitement.
“That is my younger daughter, Angela,” Stepmother said. “This is my eldest.”
“Ah.” Lady Pinner looked her up and down, and then, to Will’s utter astonishment, said, “Mrs Fletcher, the young people wish to open the ball with the minuet, and my younger son is without a partner. Would Miss Fletcher care to delight us with her performance of the dance?” And she smiled, she actually smiled.
Before Will could work out what this magnanimous offer portended, Stepmother had accepted with glee. She, at least, saw nothing untoward in it. Rosie blushed, was introduced to the young man in question, blushed again. Then, there being a press of people waiting behind them, they moved on into the room.
“Well, what a compliment, Rosie! Now you will be able to put all those dancing lessons to good use.”
“What did she say, Mama? I did not catch all of it.”
“Why, that you are to dance the minuet with Mr Greaves, dear. Such a great honour!”
“I hope I will be a credit to you, Mama,” Rosie said, her expression anxious.
“Of course you will, dearest. This is such a splendid opportunity to make your mark on society. Nothing could be better, for everyone will be watching you.”
As more guests arrived, they moved further down the room. Will listened to the names as they were announced but there was no one he knew and no females pretty enough to entice him, so he amused himself by wandering around the rooms and deciding it was a shabby affair. There were too few candles, the flowers and potted plants were sparse, there were not enough footmen and the supper room was much as one would expect of an inn’s assembly room. The ballroom floor showed the wear of many dancing feet over the years. No one would be so cheeseparing in Yorkshire, that much was certain. The card room was the only place where there was plenty of light, and a sideboard laden with wine, port and brandy of all descriptions. Perhaps he would watch Rosie’s minuet and then retreat to the whist table, for there was nothing to keep him in the ballroom.
Will saw the Plummers arrive as the musicians were taking their places and Lord Pinner had already disappeared to the card room. Lady Plummer and her daughter, Lady Charles Heaman, looked as sour as usual, only bestowing grudging smiles on Lady Frederica and Lady Pinner. Lord Charles Heaman made straight for the card room. Mr Michael Plummer looked anxious but his face lightened when he saw Will, and he made his way directly to him. He was a tall, thin man, very pale, who habitually looked as if he were ill.
“Good to see you, Fletcher,” he said in relieved tones. “I was afraid there would be no one here that I know. Mother drags me about here and there, trying to find me a bride, you see, but it is a dispiriting business. At least I shall be able to stand up with your sisters and not have to make conversation with complete strangers for a few dances.”
“Do you need to find a bride, now that your brother is set to marry?” Will said, surprised. “That lets you off the hook, surely?”
“Perhaps, but I am the heir, after all,” he said gloomily. “It is expected. You must feel the pressure, too, surely. You are the eldest, after all.”
“I shall marry when I am ready and not a moment before,” Will said.
But then, a distraction. The master of the ceremonies, presumably the Pinners’ butler, banged his staff again.
“The Most Honourable the Marchioness of Carrbridge, the Lady Humphrey Marford, the Lord Humphrey Marford, Miss March and Miss… um… Wimbledon.”
A hush fell upon the room, and one or two people audibly gasped. This, then, was not expected. Lady Pinner dropped into a deep curtsy. After a moment’s stunned silence, there was a rush towards the door and Lady Carrbridge’s party was swamped with well-wishers.
Will laughed, and, abandoning Michael Plummer with a quick word of apology, elbowed his way through the crowd without compunction. His quarry had already been separated from the marchioness, standing slightly apart from the throng.
Will made her his best bow. “Good evening! I trust I see you well, Miss Wimbledon?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I cannot blame the poor man. It is a difficult name.”
“Your arrival seems to have set a great many people by the ears. Lady Carrbridge does not normally attend such gatherings, I take it?”
“No, but… she had concerns. Oh, your sister looks lovely!” she said, catching sight of the Fletchers not far away. “Both of them, in fact. She has had her hair cut, too. See how well she looks, and how the style emphasises her eyes. Connie is infallibly correct in such matters.”
“Miss Wimbledon,” he began, making her laugh again, “I have exciting news. There are to be minuets danced to open the ball. If Lady Pinner is agreeable, should you care to stand up with me?”
“A minuet? Here? How quaint! But oh, how I should love that!”
“Even with me?” he said teasingly.
