The Spinster Bride (19 page)

T
he May Ball, held each year at the Ashton Estate twenty minutes outside of London, was one of the premier events of the season. To be invited to the May Ball was akin to being invited to a royal ball. The Cavendishes, alas, were not invited, so George refused to go. Marjorie was a bit proud of his stance, but Dorothea seemed, if anything, relieved. She was always on edge that George would do or say something that would cause her embarrassment. And to be fair, Marjorie admitted to herself, he almost always did. As much as she loved and understood her brother, she also understood and loved her mother—even if she didn't agree with her.

Castle Ashton rivaled Marlborough's Blenheim Palace in size and grandeur. As a girl, Marjorie had been bitterly disappointed to learn Castle Ashton wasn't a castle at all, but rather a grand house, much like their own in Ipswich. The Baroque building, designed with painful symmetry, was a favorite of Marjorie because it held such happy memories. House parties there were always lavish and long, and she'd spent many summer days there exploring the expansive grounds. Because of its proximity to London, most people who attended did not stay overnight for the May Ball, and so Lord and Lady Ashton always invited a huge crush of people. Queen Victoria often attended the ball, but this year she was unable to, much to the great disappointment of everyone attending. Still, it was a grand event, one that every high-born young lady in England yearned to attend. It was Marjorie's fifth.

Charles, along with his brother, father, and sister, were invited, though he was the only one who attended. His sister's husband would not leave the side of his ailing mother—a mother who had been suspiciously ailing for the past twelve years. His brother, never one to enjoy society's gatherings, was more than happy to send this younger brother as proxy. Charles didn't mind in the least.

 

The night air held a hint of rain to come as Marjorie grasped the hand of an Ashton footman and stepped down to the meticulously groomed stone drive. No doubt she would meet many old friends, some she hadn't seen in months. It seemed as if her little group had scattered to the four corners of England. One of her dearest friends, Lenore, had married an American and now lived in Philadelphia. She remembered their tearful good-bye, their promises to see each other at least once a year. She hadn't even received a letter from Lenore in six months.

She wore her best and newest Worth gown—as she always did for the May Ball. The gown was a pale peach with lacy cap sleeves that hugged her shoulders, with a bodice that dipped low enough to reveal the tops of her breasts. Lace that edged the neckline could be fluffed up a bit to provide more coverage, but when Marjorie presented the more modest version of her gown, Dorothea clicked her tongue and pushed the lace down.

“Lord Shannock will be there this evening,” she said with a smile. “We want you to look your best.”

Marjorie had looked down at herself, clearly seeing her breasts displayed, and grimaced. “Really, Mother, surely he can use his imagination.”

“Mr. Worth designed this dress specifically for you to show off your best assets.”

“These are my best assets? I rather thought my wit and cleverness were.”

Dorothea adjusted the lace a bit more to create the desired effect. “Those may very well be your best assets, but I'm quite certain Lord Shannock will care more for these,” she said pragmatically, giving the lace one final tuck.

As she walked up the steps to Castle Ashton, Marjorie released her train, letting it fall artistically behind her. It was a lovely dress, and Mr. Worth had been quite proud of it. Its bustle was modern, a natural shape that didn't call for the sometimes painful cages that his earlier designs had required. Instead of a bell-shaped skirt, the front hugged her legs rather closely. When she'd tried the dress on, Dorothea's eyes had widened with appreciation and Mr. Worth had given her a small bow. Marjorie might not be the youngest debutante at the ball, but she would most certainly be the best dressed.

Marjorie suspected he would mourn the loss of his best customer should she marry this year as her mother wished. Five seasons meant five years of the most beautiful and costly gowns money could buy, and she had no doubt that Mr. Worth would be a bit sad to see her married. She'd still be a customer, but her need for so many new gowns each year would surely be diminished.

Once they were in the grand foyer, Marjorie gathered up her train, looping the satin band, decorated with lace and tiny pearls, around her right wrist. No matter how many balls she attended, this part of any evening was always Marjorie's favorite. It was the part where she would spy old friends, collect her dance card, and feel the tiny thrill of anticipation that this night would be different from all the rest. In her first season, she'd been so excited at the prospect of a ball, her stomach had been aflutter with the possibilities. She had been acutely aware of the attention she drew and had reveled in it.

Now, there was far less excitement, but she still felt a pleasure in being part of something special. Even as Marjorie looked around trying to spot friends, she knew that by the end of the evening, a new and strange hollowness would set in. It was like looking forward to a wonderful birthday only to realize that the only thing that had come of it was being one year closer to dying. Marjorie furrowed her brow. It would do no good to think such maudlin thoughts at one of the season's premier events. Goodness!

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Marjorie turned to see Katherine standing next to her. “Oh, Katherine, you don't want to know.” When her friend's eyes widened, she remembered their last conversation and quickly said, “I was thinking that balls are becoming rather tedious.”

“I always thought they were,” Katherine said. “This one, thankfully, will be our last until next year. We leave the day after tomorrow. Graham is champing at the bit to get back to Avonleigh. We have so many plans.”

Katherine looped her arm around Marjorie's and pulled her toward the grand ballroom. Outside, the single ladies were standing in line for their dance cards and the two women joined the line. “He's here, you know.”

“Who?”

Katherine gave her a small look of exasperation. “Mr. Norris. He's here. He and Graham have already made it to the billiard room.”

Marjorie was still stinging from her last encounter with Mr. Norris and wasn't certain she wanted to see the man at all. “Mr. Norris can go to perdition,” she said in a low voice.

“You don't mean that,” Katherine said lightly.

Oh, but she did mean it. At least she
wanted
to mean it.

Marjorie gathered her card and the two friends entered the ballroom, giving a collective gasp. It was beyond stunning, with hanging baskets of ivy and delicate lobelia, and sparkling crystals that gleamed in the gaslight, making the large room look as if a fairy had decorated the place.

“Oh, it's lovely,” Katherine said. “I think I shall have to borrow this idea when we have our first ball at Avonleigh.”

“And when will that be?” Marjorie asked.

“Not for at least a year, I would think. Our first priority is to get the mill operating, and then Graham has plans to build a brewery to give the hops farmers a local place to sell their crop.”

Marjorie smiled at her friend's enthusiasm, and noted her use of the words “
our
first priority.” She wondered if she'd ever feel such enthusiasm over Lord Shannock's interests. Oh, speak of the devil, she thought, seeing the man looking about the room. She swallowed thickly, having forgotten just how unattractive he was. And how jittery. His movements were sharp and distinct, like a lizard darting about for prey. She realized with a start that she was the prey when he caught her eye and started toward her.

“Save me,” she whispered into Katherine's ear. “Do you see that thin man coming toward us?” Katherine nodded. “Mother wants me to marry him.”

Katherine turned and gave her a sharp look. “But he's ancient.”

“He's titled and our neighbor. He was my father's friend, and ever since I came out he's been hinting about a match. My mother put him off because she thought I'd do better, but now . . . Oh, hello, Lord Shannock,” she said a bit over-enthusiastically. “May I introduce you to my dear friend, Katherine Spencer, Countess Avonleigh.”

“Lady Marjorie.” He bowed and a thin blade of greasy hair sprang loose, revealing a bit of bare scalp. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Avonleigh.”

“A pleasure, Lord Shannock. Lady Marjorie was just telling me you are neighbors.”

Lord Shannock's bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows shot upwards. “You're an American,” he said. It sounded much like an accusation.

“I am. And you are English,” Katherine said, as if playing a parlor game and she'd just gotten the right answer.

“Yes,” Lord Shannock said stiffly. “Is Lord Avonleigh here this evening?”

“He is, indeed. I spied him heading to the billiard room not ten minutes ago. Are you acquainted with my husband?”

“My son and he attended Cambridge together.”

Katherine smiled. “You seem far too young to have a son the same age as Graham.”

Marjorie pressed her lips together so as not to laugh aloud. What a flirt Katherine could be. But Lord Shannock beamed, revealing an awful-looking set of teeth. At that moment, she pictured him kissing her as Charles had, touching her, and she felt physically ill.

“I do apologize, my lord, but I must find my mother. I promised to bring Lady Avonleigh over to her as soon as I located her. And as you can see, I have.”

Lord Shannock darted a look about, then bowed again, loosening up that stiff section of hair. “Before you go, my dear, may I be so bold as to ask if you might honor me with the first waltz?”

Marjorie smiled as if delighted. “Of course, sir.” She handed over the card and Lord Shannock penciled in his name. Giving the man a small curtsy, Marjorie grabbed Katherine's arm and led her away as if Lord Shannock might give pursuit.

“No, no, no, you cannot marry him,” Katherine said when they were out of Lord Shannock's hearing.

“I know,” Marjorie said miserably. “But Mother is set. She insists. What choice do I have, really? I haven't had a proposal in three years. I just realized that yesterday. Three
years
. I'd say the chances are fairly slim that I will get another proposal this season. My dance card rarely fills anymore and if it does, it's because George is in attendance.”

Katherine squeezed her arm. “It's not time to panic yet.”

“Yes, it is. It is the perfect time to panic. Did you see his teeth? Oh, God.”

“You're not marrying Lord Shannock,” Katherine said, as if it were a certainty.

“I'm not?”

“Of course not. You're marrying
him
,” Katherine said, with a nod to their right.

Marjorie looked over and saw Lord Avonleigh and Mr. Norris coming toward them. “Lord Avonleigh is already married,” she said darkly.

Katherine laughed. “I meant the other one. The great handsome lummox standing next to my wonderful husband. The great handsome lummox who is looking at you as if you're the sun come out after a long winter's night.”

“Stop,” Marjorie said. “If you recall, I am quite angry with that great lummox, handsome or not.” Despite her words, she felt the tug of a smile because Mr. Norris was looking at her much as Katherine described. If she wasn't careful, she was going to start believing anything was possible.

Marjorie dipped a curtsy to the men and said, “I thought you'd be playing billiards all evening.”

“I wanted to, but Mr. Norris insisted we come out and take a couple of turns around the ballroom.”

“I don't think Lady Caroline has yet arrived,” Marjorie said coolly. “At least I haven't seen her.”

“I'm not looking for Lady Caroline at the moment,” Mr. Norris said with odd intensity.

Next to her, Katherine moved to her husband's side. “I'd like to see the refreshment table,” she said, tugging Lord Avonleigh toward the far end of the room. Katherine gave the oblivious pair a pointed look and Graham caught her meaning immediately.

Marjorie wasn't even aware they had left. She wasn't aware there was a single other person in the room. All she could think of was what Katherine had told her, that she was certain Charles loved her. And there, not so far back in her mind, was a plan that would make marriage not only a possibility but a certainty.

“Care to take a turn 'round the room with me?” Mr. Norris asked.

“I think not,” Marjorie said, his cruel words still ringing in her ears. She might melt on the inside when she saw him, but she would not be a fool for him. She would not make a cake of herself over him if he only thought of her as a lovely distraction from his true purpose.

“I know I behaved terribly yesterday. I apologize most profusely. Please, will you not walk with me?”

He seemed utterly sincere, and Marjorie could feel herself giving in. “My mother would object,” Marjorie said.

“Your mother be damned.” He was smiling, but the look of determination on his face was thrilling.

“All right then, though I don't truly want to damn my mother.”

“Of course not. I'd settle for thwarting her, though.”

Marjorie's heart sped up a beat. Something was different about Charles tonight. He was more intense, more serious than she'd ever seen him. They began walking around the room in silence, skirting various groups that had gathered to chat.