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Eloise could hardly believe her betrothal was going so smoothly. She had expected Will to manufacture some excuse long since — a fabricated quarrel, her father’s dubious behaviour — and weasel his way out of it, but he had not. To the contrary, he acted as if he were truly glad of it and were looking forward to their wedding. She had to admit, he was very, very convincing.
The evening of the Fletchers’ first ball, Eloise joined them for dinner. Once again she was struck by how well the Fletchers looked in all their finery. There were some of Lord Carrbridge’s family who would look down on them for their origins in trade, but Eloise could not see the great difference between them and the Marfords, except that the Marfords had a little something in their air that marked them as aristocratic. But the Fletchers were good-hearted people and the better she knew them, the more she liked them.
The house had been transformed for the occasion, although without the ostentation so often seen during the season. Mrs Fletcher had no ambition to be a great hostess, only to give her daughters the opportunity to shine in the small corner of society the family inhabited. So there were flowers everywhere, and candles by the score, and attentive footmen. The carpets had been beaten and the chandeliers and mirrors cleaned to reflect as much light as possible. There would be plenty of the best wine, and a good supper, most of it prepared by their own man-cook and the cook from Hertfordshire. The drawing room carpets had been rolled up and an intricate pattern of roses, the Fletcher emblem, chalked onto the floor. Everything was prepared.
Eloise’s opinion had been flatteringly sought on several tricky points, but she had little advice to give. Mrs Fletcher seemed to know what she was about. Her only concern was with numbers, for they had few acquaintances of the type she would most like to cultivate for her daughters, and perhaps they would not come to so paltry an affair as this. She had decided, therefore, to invite some of their other friends who could be relied upon to attend — the families they had met at Marford House, Mr Fletcher’s friends from the City and Will’s old school friends. It would fill the rooms, at least, so the evening would succeed no matter who else condescended to come.
Within half an hour, it became clear that the ball would be the type of overheated, overcrowded, riotous occasion that was accounted a great success. There were plenty of patrician accents to mingle with the less refined tones of Yorkshire or Cheapside, and no shortage of lords and honourables to lead the Fletcher sisters into the dance. Lord Albury had arrived early to be the first to shepherd Rosie onto the floor. He had brought his mother and two of his sisters with him, into the bargain, and Eloise wondered if he might intend a determined pursuit now.
Eloise danced the first two with Will, the two next with Mr Armitage and then, surprisingly, with Lord Albury, who increased her suspicion of him by asking her, in roundabout ways, of the Fletcher family. She answered him readily enough, for she knew nothing of them that might not be spoken of to anybody, but when she re-joined Will at the end of the dance, she mentioned it to him.
“Interesting,” he said. “Skelton said that the family could make use of Rosie’s dowry, but he suggested that Albury would not want to tread on Somerwell’s toes. If he is no longer a contender, however…”
“Is that true?” she said. “You think he has given up all thought of Rosie, since that night at Vauxhall’s?”
“Since I punched him on the nose, you mean?” Will said in an undertone, but grinning as he spoke. “Perhaps. We have heard nothing from him, and Pa has been receiving a stream of hopeful admirers ever since. Not Albury, but any number of others. Not that Rosie shows the least sign of settling on one or other of them. She likes to keep them dangling. Miss Whittleton, have you a partner for the next two? If not, I should be delighted to stand up with you, and then lead you into supper.”
“Thank you, Mr Fletcher, I should be very pleased to dance with you again,” she said gravely. How polite he was! She could not fault him in the slightest, and he was such an accomplished dancer that there was no hardship at all in accepting him as her partner.
After the dance, he led her into supper with every appearance of pleasure and was delightfully attentive throughout. As the crowds began to drift back to the drawing room or the rooms set aside for cards, Will lingered on and then Mr Fletcher came to sit beside them.
“Has Will told you our good news, Miss Whittleton?” he said, with the charming smile that was so like his son’s. “About Orchard House?”
“No, sir. He has not mentioned it.”
“How remiss of him,” he said, chuckling. “I should have thought he would have wanted you to know at once.”
“It slipped my mind, Pa,” Will said. “Besides, you might have changed your mind if the detailed report were to be unfavourable.”
“Aye, true enough. No point getting your hopes up, eh? But I’d like to be sure Miss Whittleton likes the idea before I lay down my blunt for it. It is a house in the village by Chadwell Park, Miss Whittleton. Not large, for it has no more than four or five bedrooms, but a proper house, very suitable for a young couple, with space for a very pretty nursery. There’s a fair sized garden, too, big enough for the children to play in, although they’ll have the run of the Park, too, naturally. We can fit a gate in the Park wall so you’ll be able to come and go as you please. You’ll want to see it, of course, so if you come with us next month when Julia and James marry, you can have a look at it and see if it suits you, eh? You’ll be able to make whatever changes you want, and I’ll foot the bill, don’t you worry about that. No expense spared for you two.”
“You are very good, sir, but I do not think I can leave Lady Carrbridge at such a crucial part of the season. She has two more balls at Marford House and—”
“And she has plenty of others to help her with that,” Mr Fletcher said genially, “whereas Will has only one future wife to be shown around her future home. Lady Carrbridge can manage without you for a couple of days, I am sure.”
“I do not think she can, sir,” Eloise said firmly, but she could hardly bear to see the bewildered disappointment on his face. “Perhaps after the season is over…”
Mr Fletcher perked up at once. “Yes, yes, of course. The very thing, for you will have more time to decide upon the alterations, and then maybe you’ll set a date for the wedding. No point in keeping a man waiting, is there? We all want to see you two settled as soon as may be. It’ll be five years come Michaelmas since Allie was wed, and now we’ll have two weddings one after the other. And maybe by this time next year I’ll have some more grandchildren to spoil. There now, I’ve made you colour up. Forgive a father his little dreams, eh? I’ll leave you two to your lovers’ talk and get back to the card room.”
Eloise hardly knew what to say, but Will merely chuckled. “He is enjoying himself, I think. He was all for going out for the evening, and Stepmother would have let him, I believe, but Johnny and I and the girls pinned him down and persuaded him to be part of it. If a man cannot attend a party in his own house, then the world is a shabby place indeed.”
“Why would he think of not attending?” Eloise said.
“He is not comfortable in a higher level of society, and said from the outset that he would not be accompanying us to evening engagements, beyond the theatre and so forth. Balls and routs and Venetian breakfasts — no, there he will not go. He feels it would deter Rosie’s suitors if they see that her father is not a born gentleman.”
“But he is sokind!”she cried, the word ending in a sort of wail, for she was perilously close to tears. The supper room was almost empty now, but even so, she fought hard to bring herself under control.
Will lifted her hand, bare without its confining glove, and raised it gently to his lips. “He is indeed the kindest and most generous of men, the best father anyone could have. We have had our differences now and then, for what self-respecting son does not kick over the traces sometimes? But whenever I have been in trouble, he has always stood my friend, and I have never been afraid of him, as I see some men are of their fathers, even when they are well past their majority.”
“You are so very fortunate,” she whispered. “I wish I had a father who was even one tenth as wonderful as yours.”
“I can understand why you might resent his leaving,” Will said thoughtfully, “but was he not an affectionate father before that?”
“Oh, yes! Very affectionate! He told us every day how much he loved us, how happy he was that we had come to share his life and then he went away and never came back. Not a letter, not awordfrom him in thirteen years. Such a devoted father!”
“But surely that makes it even more likely that some mischance befell him? He would not abandon his children — hecouldnot. No loving father could do so. He would have returned if he could.”
“You do not know the whole,” she said, her anger white hot now. “The official story is that he went travelling… no one explains why a man who had stayed contentedly at home his whole life should suddenly decide to travel. Some secret imperative, we are to presume. Perhaps a very important mission for His Majesty. All hints and unspoken insinuations. So my uncle wanted us to think, anyway. My brothers and my sister accepted the story, but my mother knew the truth, and I was old enough to understand it, too. Will, there was no heroic explanation, no justification. The truth is that my father ran away to the continent with his mistress, a rich widow who could keep him in the comfort he had never been able to provide for himself. He is living a life of ease somewhere, and giving us not a single thought, from one day’s end to the next.”
