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‘To Miss Jupp, St Peter’s Road, Sagborough, West Riding. Oh, Belinda, I am so excited I can scarcely draw breath. Last night was Lady Pinner’s ball, and I was astonished to be asked to stand up with one of her sons, Mr Greaves, to dance the MINUET!!! Can you believe it? All those dancing lessons with that funny little Frenchman paid off, for I knew what to do, and it was not at all difficult. Actually, I rather enjoyed it, for when there is no one else dancing to distract one, and no need to think about conversation, dancing is so much easier, is it not? After that Will danced with Miss Whittleton, and he was so splendid I could have burst with pride. I think he is a wonderful dancer, and it is not at all surprising that he is so much sought after. I saw all the young ladies admiring him, and hoping he would choose one of them for the next dance, and he was very good, standing up for every dance. We all did, and I was very fortunate in my partners. Mr Somerwell is so very elegant, and makes me quite easy about talking to him, for he is so eloquent himself that I need say very little. I also danced with Mr Iverson, Mr Tranter, Mr Deptford, another Mr Greaves and Lord Albury (Mama is very excited about that last one, as you may imagine!). I also sat out with Mr Crutchley, who is very old and very fat, but I feel so comfortable with him, and need not worry about whether I am being not encouraging enough or too encouraging, for he is obviously not a suitor. I must go to breakfast now, but I shall write at greater length later and describe all the ladies’ dresses. Your very excited friend, Rosie.’
16: Preparations For Jollity
JUNE
Eloise could not decide whether she anticipated her evening at Vauxhall Gardens with the Fletcher family with pleasure or dread. There was an attraction in seeing the gardens themselves, so famous that they were regarded as an experience not to be missed. She was a little curious, too, to meet the rest of the Fletcher family, for they would all be there.
On the other hand, she would be obliged to spend a whole evening in the company of Mr Will Fletcher, who would no doubt devote his energies to demonstrating his most gentlemanlike behaviour for her edification. He was all too convincing, that was the trouble. She knew exactly how it would be. He would escort her from one spectacle to another, punctiliously ensure her plate and glass were kept filled at supper and all the while maintain an entertaining stream of gentle and unthreatening conversation. Had she seen him no other way, she could easily be fooled by the performance. Yet she was certain that as soon as she were out of his sight, he would revert to his old flirtatious and empty behaviour.
If only there were some way to test him, some challenge she could set him that he could not meet so readily. It was the easiest task in the world to behave with generosity of spirit for an hour or an evening, but to be considered a true gentleman, such manners ought to be extended into every part of a man’s life, even when the person he wished to impress was not present. Eloise could not think of a single way to test his resolve to such an extent.
She found herself dithering over the choice of gown. She had asked for one particular one to be laid out, and then, in a moment of indecision, a second one, but when she went to dress, she disliked both of them and asked for yet another. The long-suffering maid assigned to her willingly went away to press it, but while Eloise stood in her shift, wondering if they all were wrong and she ought to start afresh, Connie bustled in.
Eyeing the two gowns spread out of the bed, she said at once, “The Saxon blue, dear. So flattering for your complexion at night.”
And that was the end of that.
“Are you sure you can spare me tonight?” Eloise said.
Connie groaned and rolled her eyes. “I would spare myself if I could. All Francis’s most tedious relatives gathered in one spot. There will be no music, certainly no dancing, no conversation above the banal, and not even any cards, and the Archdeacon will be there, so any thought of enjoying ourselves will be entirely out of the question. Francis will be so bored, I should not wonder if he falls asleep after dinner, and even that will be vastly better than his behaviour eight years ago, which I will never speak of, so do not ask it of me. So go to Vauxhall and enjoy yourself, my dear, and if you have a spare moment, you may pity me, if you will.”
Eloise was to dine out with Lord and Lady Humphrey, who had sensibly cried off the evening with tedious relatives, and inveigled an invitation from old friends. Since the old friends lived in Grosvenor Square, Eloise had been added to the invitation and it had been arranged that Lord Humphrey would escort Eloise around the square to the Fletchers’ house at the appropriate hour.
The Armitages were a charming couple, the gentleman handsome and the lady elegant, who made Eloise very welcome, despite not previously having been introduced.
“We are always happy to meet any friends of the Marfords,” Mrs Armitage said equably. “I am only sorry we have not met before, but we have only just arrived from Essex. Do come and meet everyone. This is my aunt, Mrs Scudamore. Mr Armitage’s ward, Miss Violet Barantine, and her future husband, Mr Tranter, son of the Earl of Kilrannan. This is Mr Christopher Tranter, and you know his good friend, Mr Lionel Iverson.”
Eloise made her curtsies to everyone, trying to commit their names to memory, and then found a seat beside the elderly Mrs Scudamore, seeing in her kindly face the prospect of some pleasant conversation. It was not long, however, before she found Mr Iverson and the younger Mr Tranter loitering expectantly nearby. Mr Tranter, having greater boldness than his friend, soon brought forward a chair and sat beside Eloise.
“And how is Mr Fletcher?” he began, somewhat precipitately, his Irish accent prominent.
Slightly ruffled by such a direct question, Eloise nevertheless contrived to answer calmly. “He is well, so far as I know.”
“But you are to spend the evening there? With the Fletchers?”
“Not at the house, no. There is a party got up to go to Vauxhall Gardens, and I am invited to be part of it.”
Mr Tranter gasped. “Did you hear that, Iverson?Vauxhall Gardens!Oh, fortunate, fortunate lady, to be so close to the angel descended to earth!”
Eloise suppressed the laughter which naturally rose to her lips, and said with commendable composure, “And to which angel might you refer, sir?”
“Why, to Miss Fletcher, who else? MissRoseFletcher. She is to be of the party also, I presume?”
“So far as I know, she is.”
“Vauxhall Gardens,” Mr Iverson said solemnly, nodding at his friend.
“Yes, indeed,” Mr Tranter said. “I have frequently said to myself,‘Chris, my friend—’, for so I address myself in my dressing mirror, you see,‘Chris, my friend, you must go to Vauxhall Gardens one of these days, and—’”
“Nights,” said Mr Iverson.
“What?”
“Nights. One of thesenights. ’Twould be mighty dull there during the day. Not a soul to be seen, I dare say.”
“Yes, yes, nights. But the point is the same, Iverson. We must go. Tonight.”
