The Maiden At Midnight (18 page)

Chapter Eight

The next few days passed
without anything untoward happening. Despite the fact that Isabella
went out and about, enjoying a picnic party and her first night at
Almacks – an event in itself – she did not encounter Willett again.
It might have been that he was behaving with circumspection or that
it was merely chance that kept them apart, but after Tuesday
evening, Isabella found herself
wanting
to encounter him, for waiting
for their inevitable meeting to take place was surely far worse
than the actual event must be.

She did not see Harry Carstairs again,
either, although Stornley turned up at both the picnic and Almacks,
determined to enjoy every moment he could in Alora’s company. And
while it was nice to see his lordship, Isabella found herself
missing his companion. He, at least, did not expect her to be
anything but herself and their sparring matches certainly helped to
relieve the social tedium.

Thursday arrived and with it all the
prospects Isabella hoped would eventuate. She dressed with
considerable care in a new gown of amber sarcenet over a cream
satin underskirt. The scoop neckline was delicately edged with
Brussels lace and tiny seed pearls and she thought it perhaps the
prettiest thing she had ever worn. Martha had dressed her hair
high, leaving several long, pale golden ringlets to trail over one
white shoulder and the maid had fixed a three strand pearl collar
round Isabella’s throat, which emphasized the slender line of her
neck.

Audrey had clapped her hands together when
she caught sight of her sister. ‘Oh! How lovely you look.’

Isabella smiled. She was well satisfied with
the work she and Martha had put in. If tonight’s ensemble did not
garner some interest from prospective husbands then she did not
know what would.

‘And you look utterly dazzling as well. Mama
was right about that color. It looks very well on you.’

Audrey also wore a new dress tonight in rose
satin that went very prettily with her fair skin. Lady Hathaway
herself was in refurbished deep green satin gown from earlier days
but some clever work from her sister’s dressmaker had seen the gown
take on new life with the addition of lace panels and a new
neckline. ‘For I am far too old to fuss about frocks, my lovelies
whereas you girls are an appropriate palette on which to create a
masterpiece.’

She looked both girls over
before they climbed into the carriage, then nodded well satisfied.
With a kiss for Millie who demanded a full report of
everything
that took
place during the evening, they set off.

Lady Bromely lived in Clarence Street in a
handsome three story stone edifice. Only Lady Hathaway was familiar
with their hostess, so neither Isabella or Audrey knew quite what
to expect but the lady was quite young, no more than thirty at
most, and entirely delightful. She came forward to greet them the
moment they set foot through the door, complimenting all three on
their outfits as she ushered them inside.

Isabella had been agog to discover what kind
of event had been manufactured for the occasion. Stepping into a
spacious drawing room – made even more so as additional doors at
one end had been opened to allow access into the room next door –
she saw that Lady Bromely had gathered a small party that numbered
no more than fifty in all. As Joss had suggested, cards were on
offer, tables laid out for Piquet or whist. The lighting was soft,
generating an intimate atmosphere with firelight, thoughtfully
placed lanterns and candelabras.

‘I hope you enjoy cards,
Lady Hathaway,’ Lady Bromley waved a hand towards the table, ‘or
perhaps your girls? Participating is not essential, of course for
there is music and if enough people feel like it we can have
dancing. We are quite the intimate party tonight but I like to have
those every now and then. Things are so very much a
crush
nowadays, don’t you
think?’

Oh well done
Joss
, Miss Hathaway thought approvingly.
Not that he was the one responsible for such a clever gathering but
he had employed a lady who was more than capable of doing what was
necessary. The evening had been designed to show a lady at her
best.

Lady Bromley was
attentiveness itself, taking the newly arrive group around to
introduce this person or that, many of which seemed to be
relatively youthful males. Isabella found that her eyes were
searching for the now familiar figure of Harry Carstairs and tried
very hard to ignore the sharp pang of disappointment his absence
prompted. This would
never
do. She was not interested in the man as anything
more than a conversational partner so she knew her reaction was
quite disproportionate to the situation. Just the same, when he and
Stornley
did
appear, not ten minutes later, her spirits picked up
considerably. Now she might have some fun tonight, while she cast
her eyes over what he and his lordship had found for her. She had
been trying not to speculate as to who her seven potential suitors
might be, lest she form opinion before she had the facts. She would
bide her time until she could ask the new arrivals to point out who
it was she was supposed to be looking over.

The arrival of her two
co-conspirators almost coincided with that of Alora Piedmont and
Miss Fortnum. Standing back a little, Isabella took the opportunity
to observe Alora’s aunt. What an odd woman she was! Joss, unable to
contain himself when the object of his heart’s desire hove into
view, followed his cousin Lady Bromley as she moved to greet them.
There was no mistaking the subtle shift on Miss Fortnum’s face as
she caught sight of the earl. The polite mask slipped for a moment
and Isabella caught a sight of something that came perilously close
to loathing. The woman
really
did not like the Earl of Stornley! For whatever
reason, her feelings far transcended mere distaste. Which, Isabella
reflected ruefully, could cause a serious impediment for, while
Alora may not be dependant on her aunt for her permission to marry,
surely she would listen to her opinion on the subject? It seemed
prudent for Isabella to try and discover what lay behind the
woman’s animosity.

She was considering ways of going about this
when her sister’s hand suddenly fastened around her arm so tightly
that Isabella winced.

‘Audrey, what -?’

‘Look
!’

Isabella looked around in bewilderment, then
stopped dead at the sight of the man who had just walked into the
room, greeting Lady Bromely gravely, his tall, handsome face so
familiar that she felt momentarily dizzy.

Willett
! Oh no… But how could he be here, tonight? How had her
ex-fiancé come to be invited to this, of all parties?

‘Isabella!’ Audrey whispered, ‘you cannot
let him upset you.’

Upset her? Oh dear lord… Isabella took a
breath, and then another one, steadying herself. Turning back to
her sister, she dragged out a tight smile. ‘I feel a little ill,’
she admitted.

‘I feel
sick
.’ Audrey agreed. ‘Do you want to
leave?’

Did she? Isabella
considered the question and realized that, while a part of her most
definitely did, there was another, more stubborn part that would
not have left for the world. This was
her
night, the one where she would
discover the means to go forward. And Willett would not chase her
away from it. She had known all along that she would encounter him
some time.

As it turned out, tonight was the night.

Still, she managed to postpone the event for
as long as possible, gathering her self-control around her like an
invisible cloak with every moment that passed. Having retreated
into the retiring room, she returned to the guests, determined not
to show that the presence of Willett had disconcerted her. She
would be loath to give anyone the satisfaction of watching her
squirm. Her eyes searched for his tall, familiar figure on her
return and found that he was on the other side of the room,
conversing with a group of gentlemen. She paused, eyes fixed on his
back while she commanded her heart to stop thumping so hard and did
her best to banish the nausea that roiled uneasily around the pit
of her stomach. She was so focused on breathing deeply that she
received quite a shock when a deep, familiar voice spoke just
beside her.

‘Plotting away there, are we? Who have you
got your eye on now?’

Isabella turned her head quickly to find Mr.
Carstairs had arrived and her heart leapt uncontrollably. It was an
entirely different kind of leap than she had experienced at the
sight of her former fiancé. ‘I... you startled me!’

‘Why? What are you up to?’

What was she up to? She swallowed. ‘Willett
is here.’

Harry frowned. ‘Who?’

‘My ex-fiancé.’

He blinked, scanning the guests quickly.
‘Where?’

‘Over there. Tall, dark blue jacket, hand on
hip.’ Typical Willett pose when he was holding forth on something.
For such a young man, Isabella could recall he could be terribly
pompous.

‘I see.’ He was silent for a moment, then
glanced down at her. ‘Celia couldn’t have known or she would never
have invited him.’

‘I know. It has just made the evening a
great deal more awkward. I have not met him yet – not to speak to –
but it must be inevitable at such a relatively small
gathering.’

‘Even so, you must not let him ruin it for
you. That would be quite unacceptable. Do you want me to deal with
him?’

Isabella was startled. ‘What do you mean,
deal with him?’

‘I could tell him to leave.’

‘You cannot do that! It would look most
peculiar.’

Harry Carstairs shrugged. ‘I can be a very
peculiar fellow, Miss Hathaway.’

‘Very true! ‘No… I thank you but I knew that
this meeting would come. I’m sure it will be fine.’

He looked far from convinced but after a
moment’s hesitation, moved on. ‘How goes it with Joss and Alora? I
mean with Alora specifically, of course. I know all too well how
Joss feels.’

She smiled at this. The earl did tend to
wear his heart on his sleeve. ‘Very well, I think. I wish I knew
what Miss Fortnum had against Joss, however. It could throw our
plans into disarray.’

He glanced towards the woman who stood
across the room. ‘I have to say, I wondered that myself. She cannot
stand Joss and he is such an inoffensive creature.’

‘Exactly!’ she agreed. ‘I think we should
find out. We can’t have anything go wrong now.’

He glanced down at her, green eyes suddenly
amused. ‘And how do you propose we do that?’

Isabella shrugged. ‘I suppose I could try
and engage her in conversation. Bring the subject around to Alora’s
many suitors and how any of them would be lucky to have her. It
might elicit something.’

‘Miss Piedmont just needs to be unwavering
in her choice of suitor. If she wants Joss, she must say so and
stand by her decision.’

Isabella sighed. ‘Yes,
because
that
is
going to happen. Men have no idea how hard it is to resist the
disapprobation of others. It’s all very well for
you
. You do not have to
live with women like that.’

‘We do, upon occasion. We just do not have
to listen.’

‘But we do. Females are forced to listen to
everybody on every possible subject because people believe their
understanding to be defective. Especially young females who clearly
do not know their own minds.’

Harry Carstairs looked down
at her, a smile on his lips. ‘Really, Miss Hathaway? Are you basing
that on
your
experience?’

He had her there but then,
Isabella’s experience was a little different to most young ladies.
Being of a forthright disposition and having been blessed with the
kindest of parents, she had been allowed to very much please
herself, especially as they had lived in the country where the
guidelines governing a young lady’s conduct were not quite so
stringent. While she knew her parents had been pleased that she had
accepted Willett’s proposal it had been
her
decision. She knew of many other
situations where a girl was bound to honor her parent’s decisions,
no matter how crack brained they were.

‘Not my experience but that
of many of the girls I know. Mary Langford, married off to a man
three times her age. A quite disgusting gentleman, I might add, who
eats with his mouth open and roars at the servants. Then there is
Annabelle Barstock, whose husband is an absolute
rake
! Good Lord, he keeps
a mistress in the gatehouse and has at least four illegitimate
children that anybody knows about, probably more that have not come
to light. Let me tell you, a young female can be very much
susceptible to the ridiculous whimsy of others.’

He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. ‘I
know these things, of course. They are taken for granted for it is
a well known fact that a parent will try for the most advantageous
marriage for their daughters -’ beside him Isabella gave a snort,
which he ignored, ‘ – but it does seem rather harsh when you put it
in those terms.’

‘Of course it is,’ she said
impatiently, ‘it is perfectly
devilish
what some parents put their
daughters through.’

‘But you yourself are planning on making the
most advantageous marriage possible,’ he pointed out.