Lord Satan (12 page)

After several more effusions, Mrs. Sidney hurried back to
the shop, and Libbetty and her mother continued home.

“Was that Mrs. Whitelow?” Libbetty asked.

“Yes. No doubt you have already heard something of her
history. I did not wish you to be exposed to such a person. Oh, well, I
suppose it has done no real harm.”

“It seems a little indecent to me.”

Libbetty looked to her mother for a defense to this charge,
not daring to dispute with her father.

Her mother quickly supported her own dress design and her
daughter’s appearance. “It certainly is not. Indeed, it is more modest than
the present fashion. I would never send our daughter out garbed in anything
that would shame her or us.”

Libbetty’s neck and the part of her shoulders exposed to
view reddened under her father’s scrutiny. She had tried to persuade her
mother to lower the square neckline, more in accordance with the fashion plates
she had pored over with Edwina. Now she gave thanks she had not succeeded and
closed her eyes in prayer that her father would not forbid her the gown—or
worse, prohibit her from attending the rout.

At last Papa said, “I bow to your judgment, as long as you
did not let her persuade you to go beyond what you had planned.”

“You may rest assured I know what is due to your position.
Elizabeth looks exactly what she is: a clergyman’s daughter.”

Libbetty tried not to become too cast down by this fact.
She had hoped for a more dashing appearance. Recollection of the image her
pier glass cast just before she came downstairs reassured her. She looked
grown up, confident, and even quite pretty.

Her mother had cut the thin cotton to simple lines, with
short puffed sleeves, and the ecru lace threaded with coral ribbon that edged
the square neckline contrasted pleasingly with her creamy skin and strawberry
blonde hair. The skirt had a small train and fell from a high waist, with a
ribbon bow at the back.

A half-kerchief with coral ribbon bows rested on her loosely
coiled hair. Libbetty wore the beige elbow-length kid gloves they had bought
in Sidneys’ shop, dainty pearl earrings, her mother’s Norwich shawl and flat
white slippers.

Her gown conceded more to decorum than fashion, but she had
never before appeared this close to beauty. Even Papa, once he decided to
abide by Mama’s judgment, gave Libbetty an encouraging smile. “You look very
charming.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

Tom clattered down the stairs and came into the room. As he
had stayed out late that afternoon, he had to dress in a rush. Libbetty could
find no fault with his appearance, however. He wore a dark blue,
double-breasted coat with gilt buttons, white marcella waistcoat, knee breeches
of drab kerseymere. His neckcloth was neatly tied, not in an overly elaborate
knot. His short-cropped hair in a Brutus style was still slightly damp.

Libbetty restrained herself from crying out that Tom would surely
impress Edwina. Although Edwina had disavowed any interest in Lord Cauldreigh,
the Coltons had other guests, and the squire’s daughter had still not shown any
sign of becoming enamored with Tom. Libbetty thought it a great pity, as Tom
was such a worthy person.

“You are very handsome tonight,” she told him.

Tom smiled in embarrassment. “I don’t see how those town
dandies can go through this fuss every night,” he confessed. “I’d go crazy if
I had to spend this much time on my attire.”

He dressed for dinner every day in nearly as formal a
fashion, so Libbetty took his disclaimer as due to nerves over the coming
festivities.

A rattling of carriage wheels outside denoted the arrival of
Dr. and Mrs. Hayes. They entered the drawing room, Dr. Hayes saying, “Well, my
children, are you ready? We must be off.”

The Hayeses appeared so different from usual that Libbetty
nearly forgot her manners and gaped.

Mrs. Hayes wore a deep green gown, with a transparent bronze
overskirt. Emeralds shimmered around her neck and on her ears, and her
chestnut hair, topped with a green plume, gleamed. Libbetty had never noticed
Mrs. Hayes’ trim figure or that her face showed few lines. More than Alonso’s
mother and Mrs. Bishop’s friend, Libbetty saw an attractive and modish woman.

Dr. Hayes appeared distinguished in a black coat that
accented his full white hair. Alonso took his appearance from his father, but
the son’s tall lanky form and crackling energy had in Dr. Hayes matured into
elegance and a continually brusque air, as though not enough time existed for
all he wished to do.

On the carriage ride to The Castle, Libbetty tingled all
over and her stomach fluttered as they alighted onto the flagstoned driveway.
Evening sun tinged the Palladian front a roseate hue, warming its cold
formality. She shivered and drew her shawl around her. She would have felt
easier had they arrived by the picturesque, crumbling archway, but she shook
off the quivers. Her qualms about her first adult party certainly had
heightened the forbidding impression.

Dr. and Mrs. Hayes seemed in perfect equanimity, but Tom’s
hazel eyes glanced around restlessly and he was pale.

Libbetty moved as if in a dream up the steps toward the door
guarded by two liveried footmen. She recalled her mother’s tale of a Cinder
Girl who went to a ball and captured the heart of a prince. She imagined
herself in the role. She might capture Lord Cauldreigh, who naturally played
the prince.

What story would Lord Neil feature in? He’s Lancelot.
Nonsense—where did such a thought spring from?

They had passed beyond the footmen and the towering doors
and entered the awe-inspiring hall. Tom stopped dead and stared up, amazed.
“By Jove!”

“Haven’t you seen this part of The Castle before?”

“No, I’ve always met Cauldreigh out back by the stables.
This is bigger than a church.”

A formally attired butler greeted them, inquiring if they
wished to shed their wraps. As they mounted the stairs, Tom’s face suddenly
stilled. Libbetty followed his gaze up the curving stairway to Edwina,
standing with her family.

Libbetty’s party joined the Hogwoods outside the first-floor
reception room. Other people stood outside the doorway, blocking entry. Two
tall doors framed a view into a high-ceilinged room. Libbetty could hear an orchestra
playing one of Mozart’s compositions.

The Hogwoods and the Hayes-Bishop party exchanged
greetings. Tom focused his attention all upon Edwina, who blushed and avoided
his eyes. Her gown in rose pink, a deeper shade than the usual pastels for
debutantes, brightened Edwina’s delicate coloring and lent her a bloom not
conferred by her quiet personality.

Tom gazed at her with the expression of a starving beggar.
Libbetty could scarcely blame him. Edwina looked enchanting, but her beauty
was a lure intended for another man.

A few of the guests moved inside the room, enabling Libbetty
to catch her first glance of the salon. Lord Cauldreigh greeted his guests,
looking healthy and happy. Libbetty’s heart leapt when she saw Lord Neil, tall
and aristocratic, standing farther back. It’s just fear, she told herself.

Jonathan Colton and an unknown woman made up the remainder
of the reception line. Libbetty studied the woman, envying her
sophistication. About thirty years old, the incognita was a dark brunette,
pretty in a flamboyant way. The skirts of her daringly low-cut blue gown clung
to her curvaceous figure. Did she dampen her skirts?

Who was she? Mr. Colton’s wife? Mr. Colton’s betrothed—or
perhaps Lord Neil’s? She seemed too old for a romantic attachment with Lord
Cauldreigh. A gap opened in the crowd, so Libbetty’s group could enter the
room.

The three Colton men presented a study in contrasts: Lord
Cauldreigh dashing in a dark maroon coat with a flowered waistcoat in pale
blue; Mr. Colton in sober dark blue, well cut, but even to Libbetty’s
inexperienced eye less expensively tailored; and Lord Neil, in funereal black,
but easily the most distinguished. Libbetty’s eyes treacherously disobeyed her
commands to ignore Lord Neil as Lord Cauldreigh welcomed her.

“You already know my cousin, Jonathan,” he said.

Libbetty said the required pleasantries and moved along the
line to Lord Neil and the woman beside him. “May I present Miss Bishop, Mrs.
Dalrymple.”

“How do you do?” said the woman, but her eyes already darted
past Libbetty to Tom.

“And this is her brother, Thomas Bishop. Mrs. Dalrymple,”
Lord Neil continued.

Mrs. Dalrymple smiled at Tom, but Libbetty saw the interest
die out of her eyes, perhaps thinking him too callow for her interest. Libbetty
had no experience with such a sophisticated woman, but her stomach tightened,
protective on Tom’s behalf as the older woman offered Tom her hand. He took it
gingerly, stammering a few words, his former pallor swamped in red.

Lord Neil fixed Libbetty with his sardonic look and said,
“So, you are all grown up. I am happy you could come tonight.”

Her cheeks heated, and she fidgeted, looking down, then
squarely into his eyes. She would not let him put her at a disadvantage.
“Thank you. Are you happy because your nephew wished to see me?”

“No. For your own sake. Your small crime did not justify
such a severe punishment, and I’m glad it has been lifted.”

Libbetty stiffened, conflicting emotions, pleasure at his
kind words, but a paradoxical wish to defend her father, swirling in her. “You
are kind to take an interest in my affairs,” she finally managed.

Amusement glinted in his charcoal eyes. “Not at all.”

They moved past the receiving line. Libbetty drew a deep
breath, away from Lord Neil’s disturbing presence. Behind her he introduced
the Hayeses to Mrs. Dalrymple.

Still other guests arrived. Libbetty glanced to see Mr.
Bassett and his daughters, then gave her attention to the setting. Perhaps
thirty people occupied the beautifully proportioned and airy salon, which could
have contained ten times that number.

With a sense of stepping into a fairy tale, Libbetty gazed
about her. The last rays of the setting sun shone through four tall arched
window alcoves hung with mint green brocade draperies that moved softly to the
breeze blowing through the openings. Despite this light, candles blazing in
the crystal chandeliers and mirrors spaced at intervals on the walls reflecting
the light, dazzled Libbetty’s eyes. Out of sight, an orchestra played, in
counterpoint to the low murmur of voices.

Libbetty knew few of the guests. She quelled a momentary
urge to run back home, where everything was familiar. She fixed her attention
on the Hogwoods, seated nearby in ribbon-back chairs of light wood upholstered
in green-and-white striped silk. They conversed with another family—husband,
wife and two daughters.

The two girls, although pretty, provided no competition for
Edwina. One, a pallid blonde with a short, round figure, stood quietly. The
other, slender with light brown hair, chattered animatedly. Both wore white
gowns, the blonde girl’s adorned with flounces and pink bows, and the
darker-haired one’s had blue trim.

Mrs. Hayes gathered up Libbetty and Tom. “Let me acquaint
you with some of the guests.” She led them to the Hogwood group.

Mrs. Hayes greeted the other family, then said, “May I
present to you Miss and Mr. Bishop. Lady and Sir Hubert Goforth and their
daughters, Georgina and Clarissa.”

They exchanged courtesies. Clarissa, the darker one, said,
“I do not recall seeing you at our assemblies in Crossfield.”

“No, we did not attend any this past spring.” Not wishing
to admit she was not precisely out yet, Libbetty stopped short of further
explanation.

Miss Clarissa did not seem curious. “I hope you may come
when we resume them in the fall. We have a lively time.” With scarcely a
break, she went on, “Isn’t it exciting? I never thought I’d actually be inside
the walls of The Castle. Is the on dit about Lord Cauldreigh’s uncle really true?
I vow, I can easily picture him as a murderer,” she went on, without giving
anyone a chance to answer. “So sinister, isn’t he?”

Miss Goforth flushed at her younger sister’s tactlessness.
“Clarrie,” she hissed.

“Indeed, my love,” Lady Goforth reproved. “One must not
gossip about one’s host in this ill-bred manner.”

Miss Clarissa shrugged. “Well, everyone is discussing it.”

Mrs. Hayes said, “I see other guests whom my two young
protégés must meet,” and towed Libbetty and Tom across the room. Libbetty glanced
back to the doorway, where Lord Neil still stood greeting a few stragglers. He
glanced over just then and cast her a smile that jolted her from across the
room.

A formidable woman and a younger man stood by a pale green
marble fireplace screened by a large fan of silver filigree work. Mrs. Hayes
introduced them as Mrs. Murray and her son, Mr. Samuel Murray. Mrs. Murray’s
silver-white hair and slender, ramrod-erect figure lent her an imposing air.
Libbetty thought she must have possessed great beauty in her youth. She
greeted the Bishops with condescension. The only trace of inheritance from his
mother the massive and stolid Samuel Murray showed were large, lustrous brown
eyes.

Mr. Bassett and his daughters approached their group, the
Bassetts and the Murrays chatting for a while. To Libbetty’s surprise,
aristocratic Mrs. Murray unbent and talked in an amiable manner with the
plebeian Mr. Bassett.

Tom and Mr. Murray went to obtain refreshments for the
ladies. While she waited, Libbetty glanced about. She still did not know
everyone, but her apprehension eased.

Squire Hogwood, Sir Hubert and Dr. Hayes stood together
talking, wineglasses in hand. Mr. Bassett joined them.

Mr. Murray rejoined Libbetty’s group. “I found an array of
food most delectable-appearing, but I did not know what you would like.
Perhaps you would like to go and choose for yourselves.”

Mrs. Murray and Mrs. Hayes declared their lack of appetite
at that moment, but Libbetty went with the Misses Bassett to reconnoiter the
food. Tom had already found his way there, heaping lobster patties, paper-thin
slices of ham, and other delicacies upon his plate.