An Impetuous Miss (18 page)

“
It is lovely,” Cat admitted, “but are you sure it is quite the thing. It is a bit …”

“
Risqué?” Lady Montrose supplied. “I should hope so. Only consider whom we are entertaining tonight. I fear that they would be at least as put out by too much modesty as others might be by its want. Besides, you shall wear a domino, so what is the difference?”

“
I suppose, for once, there is none. What a pleasure! Wherever did you find this?”

“
Oh, I made it up from pieces. The dress was one I wore many years ago at just such an occasion. The style's been altered, but the effect is just as dashing, I must admit. The headdress was a gift from an admirer, an admiral who traveled the globe and brought me many of the treasures you see in my home.”

“
What became of him, Lady Mouse?”

“
I lost him,” she returned quietly. “Or he lost me. It doesn't really matter now. In any case, it is the current moment we must concern ourselves with, isn’t it? Now how is Eveline coming?”

At that moment, Eveline crossed the threshold from her adjoining room, her diaphanous gown stir
ring in the breeze that came in through the open window. She, too, had gained a mysterious beauty. For a moment, the two stood regarding the transformations that had been wrought on the other's appearance. Then they both began to talk at once, each assuring the other of the suitability of their appearance, while Felicia and Lady Montrose stood by, well pleased with the work they had done that day.

By the time Cat and Eveline had donned the small dominoes that accompanied their costumes, irresistible strains of music could be heard drifting up the staircase. As they made their way down, they were most amused at the sight that met their eyes. Since the constraints of propriety, such as they were at Montrose House, were to be loosened still further that evening, Lady Montrose had allowed the servants access to her attics in order to deck themselves as merrily as their masters.

Martin, predictably, had dressed as a Beefeater, while Tom had decked himself out as Henry VIII, swaggering about in red velvet, brandishing a drum
stick. Betsy and Audrey had been shocked into irate silence when they discovered that they had both chosen to wear the finery of Spanish dancers which, for some mysterious reason, Lady Montrose's attics held in abundance. Felicia had surprised everyone by displaying an inclination for exotic apparel and looked quite fetching, they told her, with her apron tied over her purple sari.

When the ladies finally reached the foyer, they looked about themselves, enchanted by the changes that had been wrought in so few hours. There were only a few candles lit, but their glow was supple
mented by hundreds of crystal pendants suspended by wires from the ceiling. It seemed as if the entire house had indeed been transformed into a sparkling nighttime sky. Stepping dramatically from the dark recesses, their patroness presented herself. Much to their amusement, they discovered that Lady Montrose was now appareled as a brave befurred mouse as a foil to Cat's feline guise. She wore a gown of charcoal silk and her curly head was crowned by a set of little gray fur ears lined with rose velvet. Looped over her arm like a train hung a dashing gray fur tail.

“
Good evening, Lady Mouse!” they greeted her, laughingly. “You look enchanting!”

“
Or enchanted, perhaps,” she replied in good humor, wiggling her nose at them. “Well, I must say, you both look lovelier than I had imagined. The gentlemen will have to be stouthearted indeed to withstand you for long tonight. I vow, nothing shall astonish me this evening!”

As Cat looked about, she was surprised to see the tables laden with a feast for far more than the num
ber of guests warranted. Noticing her attention, Lady Montrose explained that she not only disapproved of the paltry refreshments served at most gatherings, but also confided that many of her guests tonight could very well use a good meal, the arts being a less lucrative pursuit than many.

“
It is also nice to be able to encourage them to drink their fill of champagne without fearing too great a lack of sobriety an empty stomach might occasion,” she went on, then suddenly stopped herself, for Cat had turned quite red. “I am sorry, my dear! I hadn't meant to …”

“
Please don't worry,” Cat reassured her hastily. “It is nice to be assured that I, too, can indulge myself with less apprehension than I might otherwise have, for indeed I have every intention of having a sip or two.”

As it was a costume
ball, Lady Montrose had determined that her guests would be announced according to the character whom they portrayed. Thus it was that such interesting pairings as Geoffrey Chaucer and Cleopatra, Prester John and Marie de France found themselves at home in the company of their hostesses, Mistress Cat and Lady Mouse, and the guests of honor, Bo Peep and a very sheepish Little Boy Blue, known in more mundane surroundings as Cecily and John.

As Cat circulated among the guests, taking care to sample the buffet as she sipped her champagne, she was fascinated to overhear variant phrasings of son
nets hotly debated, rumors of Byron's philanderings discussed, and a scene for a new Gothic novel plotted out. She was somewhat downcast as she realized that even all her years of reading had not prepared her to enter the conversation; she could but marvel at the breadth of knowledge, particularly that of women, displayed so brilliantly therein. She determined to widen her circle of acquaintances to include them should her fortunes allow her to do so.

Although Mr. Sommers, fortuitously garbed as Plato and looking wise indeed, had been among the first to arrive
, Cat had been unable to identify Mr. Hazelforth among the crowd. Indeed she had been quite curious to discover what costume he had chosen for the evening's festivities; she had, she now realized, merely assumed that he would be there. It was more than likely, she admitted with a disappointed pang, that entertainments such as these did not tempt him.

As Cat threaded her way among the guests, she was much surprised to find herself approached by Mr. Sommers, who self-consciously requested the privilege of a private interview. Her curiosity run
ning at a high pitch, she led him through the merrymakers (and through several yards of blue velvet swathing) to a little drawing room. There, she was much diverted to observe this generally contained gentleman pace about some minutes in wretched consternation, mindless of the singular picture he made in his toga and sandals.

“
Miss Catherine, I do not, I confess, know quite how to begin …,” he faltered.

“
Yet I am sure you will give it a valiant effort,” she prompted with a smile, as she seated herself primly and waited patiently. Indeed, it was all she could do to disguise her amusement as poor Mr. Sommers recommenced his agitated promenade.

“
You see,” he began again, adjusting his golden laurel wreath which had slipped down over one eye. “I... It's Miss Bartlett!”

“
Yes? Miss Bartlett?” she queried in maddeningly innocent tones.

“
Well, you see... I mean to make an offer. That is, I mean to propose marriage to her tonight,” he finally succeeded in articulating.

Although Cat had suspected that this announce
ment was indeed the purpose of this odd conference, it was with mixed feelings that she at last heard his intentions pronounced. “I wish you joy, of course, Mr. Sommers, but this is a turn around indeed. I had thought you were determined to remain single.”

“
I had always thought so,” he admitted with a frown, “until I met Eveline. Er, Miss Bartlett.”

In spite of her affection for the man. Cat could not help toying with him just a little.
“And why do you wish to speak with me?” she asked ingenuously.

“
Well, Miss Catherine,” he said with some consternation, “it is a matter of correctness. It is customary, as you know, to obtain permission from someone in order to pay one's addresses.”

“
Yes, and Miss Bartlett has no relations. I understand that much.”

“
Well, Miss Bartlett is your, er, companion, so you are by way of being her employer and …” he continued wretchedly, “Please, Miss Catherine. You must have pity on me here. I know this is an odd situation for me, a man some years your senior, to be making such an application, but I thought it best.”

At this, Cat finally gave in to the comedy of the sit
uation and laughed merrily. “Mr. Sommers, indeed I pray you do not agitate yourself so distressingly. Eveline is my friend and companion, but, as far as I am concerned, she is also the mistress of her fate. I wish her to be happy, that is all. If accepting your offer will make her so, then it has my blessing.”

At that, Mr. Sommers shook her hand warmly, and adjusting his troublesome wreath once more, he went off in search of his chosen one, leaving Cat to ponder ruefully her own belabored heart as she re
turned to her guests. If only she were able to turn back time, she told herself with a rueful sigh, she would have taken more pains not to fall in love. It didn't matter that the crowd scintillated about her, that candles glowed, that champagne sparkled. It was a very odd phenomenon, but nothing mattered at all for a heart whose love was not returned.

During the course of the evening, Cat found her
self approached by an excited Cecily. “Oh, Cat, do come here and look at Miss Bartlett and Mr. Sommers! I am sure something is afoot.”

Before Cecily could lead Cat in their direction, they were themselves approached by the happy pair in their matching classical apparel. As they drew near, Mr. Sommers whispered something to Eveline, drew her hand to his lips, and retreated into the crowd.

“Oh, Cat, Cecily!” Eveline cried. “I cannot tell you how happy I am! Mr. Sommers, Richard, has asked me to marry him. Without fortune. Without connections. Can you imagine!? He loves me!”

As her former pupils wished her joy and assured her that they could well imagine such a wonder, Eve
line went on, “He's gone to find Hazelforth, if he's here yet, and break the news to him. I suppose he's half afraid to do so, they've both been so dedicated to their single status for so long. Well, now, I am afraid poor Hazelforth will have to go it alone.”

At this remark,
Cat could but sigh inwardly. As Eveline left them in order to share her news with Lady Montrose, Cecily patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. “Well, Cat, you shall just have to come and spend the winter with me and John. It will be far too solitary for you at Sparrowell, and besides, I'm certain that Mr. Hazelforth will visit us as well, and the two of you can lay your plans for next year's Season. I'm sure you both …”

But here Cat surprised her cousin by draining the glass of champagne she held, taking yet another
from a passing tray, and proceeding through the assemblage into the garden, abruptly leaving Cecily in midsentence. When John joined his wife some moments later, she was still smiling smugly to herself, well content to sit back and observe the evening's developments.

Cat made her way through the conservatory and out into the refreshing night air, and stood looking down into the candle-lit gardens. There, she was sur
prised to see her Mr. Hazelforth sitting quite alone in the orangeries. She regarded him with a mix of emotions. Watching unobserved for a moment, she debated whether it was wisdom or folly that prompted her to go to him, and further torment her heart. However, she decided finally, he looked quite lonely sitting there, so isolated from the festivities. He, too, had been deserted this evening by his best friend. She quickly appropriated another glass of champagne and advanced down the staircase toward him. The air was pungent with the spicy scent of summer's blossoms, and in the light of a dozen flickering candles, Cat could see that he smiled at her approach.

“
I was not aware you had arrived, Mr. Hazelforth. You did not choose to wear a costume this evening?” she ventured as she held out the glass to him.

“
No,” he returned with a short laugh, as he took the champagne from her. He stood a moment looking at her. The shifting gossamer of her costume fluttered in the slight breeze, reflecting the light of the candles about them. The diamonds in her headdress, too, picked up the glimmer with every motion. He was glad, though, that she wore the domino, for he did not know if he was equal to encountering her gaze unmasked tonight. “Like you, Mistress Cat, I have decided it is best to forego disguise and come as myself. But what brings you down into the garden? Why have you left the festivities? I should have thought these revels would be diverting indeed to one of your turn of mind and interests. Yet here you stand, the corners of your mouth turned down, sighing into the night. Come now. Why so sad, my little Cat?”

“
Then you have not heard?” she replied, straining for control. The candlelight plays tricks, she reminded herself; it only seems that he looks at me so softly. “I have spoken to Mr. Sommers. We are both to be deprived of our companions.”

“
So, Sommers has made his move, has he? The charming Miss Bartlett has won him at last. Well, I wish them joy,” he said, draining his glass and setting it down. “He is a braver man than I.”