Part 10 (1/2)
Sarah had never been on intimate terms with the Lancing girls, but long acquaintance made chatting with them second nature. The other three guests were less easy to entertain. Lydia proved as silent in feminine company as she was in masculine. Lady Catherine looked disparagingly about the parlour and commented on the lack of s.p.a.ce for a pianoforte. Miss Brennan, with no gentleman present to admire her, sulked until the talk turned to fas.h.i.+on, and then attempted to monopolize the conversation. In this she had little success; she was Eliza's friend and both Louise and Mary had considerable expertise in the art of quas.h.i.+ng younger sisters.
Mary also managed to put Lady Catherine in a position where she was forced to make Sarah free with her Christian name. Gravely returning the privilege, Sarah hid a smile. When she and Lydia had greeted each other informally, Louise had looked smug. It seemed Mary was afraid her sister had taken a point in the battle for Adam's favour.
Miss Brennan's mentor was not present to urge her to follow suit, but the daughter of an Irish viscount could hardly hold back when the daughter of an English earl led the way. In no time Sarah found herself with the doubtful felicity of being on first-name terms with all of Adam's prospective brides.
Vanessa (lately Miss Brennan) and Lydia both brightened visibly when Jonathan came in from a parish visit. After their guests had left, Sarah laughingly teased her brother about this.
”I believe Miss Brennan would welcome a carter's lad if there were no other male present to minister to her vanity,” he answered with a grin. ”Even a humble vicar is grist for her mill when no more worthy gentleman is about.”
”She is very like Eliza, is she not? Her looks fill her mind to the exclusion of all else. However, Eliza seems sincerely attached to her Lord Moffatt, so perhaps Vanessa will learn to appreciate Adam properly if he chooses her. Lydia is another matter, though. She talked to Adam quite happily about his orphanages, yet on other subjects she is dumb. With you she is more comfortable even than with me.”
”If a vicar cannot put a shy child at ease, he is not worthy of his cure. She is an unsophisticated innocent, but there is enough kindness in Adam to win her over in time.”
”If he should choose to. I begin to think it somewhat unfair of Lady Cheverell to confront him with this situation.”
After dinner, the Meades drove to Cheve House for the musical evening. A new guest was present, Lady Cheverell's brother, Sir Reginald Makepeace. An intimate of the Prince Regent, he was a rotund gentleman, an inveterate gossip with an endless fund of amusing anecdotes. Sarah liked him and went willingly to join him when he beckoned to her.
”What a welcome, eh, missy?” he grumbled. ”If I'd known what m'sister had in store for this evening, I'd have arrived tomorrow.”
”Of course you are used to the finest professional musicians, sir. Our amateur efforts cannot compare.”
”'Tis true Prinny always hires the best for his musical entertainments. However, I am not above being pleased and I seem to recall a ditty you and your brother and m'nephew performed some years since.”
”It is hardly fitting for such elegant company, sir, but if it will amuse you to hear it again, I daresay I can persuade them.”
”Do that. You're a sensible woman, m'dear.” He beamed at her with far more fondness than he had ever displayed for any of his nieces.
Since Mary had had a hand in arranging the evening, inevitably Lady Catherine was the chief performer. Mary's harp had been unearthed from some lumber room and refurbished, and her protegee played several pieces upon this and upon the pianoforte. Her performance was polished, even brilliant at times, but Sarah thought it lacking in any deeper feeling.
She was castigating herself as an old cat when Sir Reginald leaned towards her and observed, ”All surface show. That's enough of that. Time to put the rest through their paces.” He raised his voice. ”Miss Brennan, will you not favour us with a tune?”
Lady Catherine cast him a look of dislike but gave up her seat. Miss Brennan glided forward in her inimitable style. Her pose at the piano displayed her figure to advantage, distracting the attention of the gentlemen, at least, from her wooden performance. She sang a romantic ballad to her own accompaniment, but the work of art was her curtsy afterwards.
”Miss Meade's turn,” said Sir Reginald promptly, before Miss Brennan could begin another song.
”Oh yes,” seconded Lady Cheverell. ”Will you and Jonathan do that lovely duo from Orpheus and Euripides? I have not heard it in years.”
”Nor have we sung it in years, ma'am,” Sarah admitted wryly, ”but if Mary will accompany us as she used to we will attempt it.”
Gluck's music was unforgettable, and where Sarah forgot the words she filled in with syllables she hoped sounded Italian. Jonathan performed his part with aplomb.
”Well done, Orpheus,” she said from the corner of her mouth as they acknowledged the polite clapping.
”Well done, yourself, Eurydice, or should I say Euripides?”
”Lady Cheverell's malapropisms are a constant delight, are they not? Sir Reginald wants to hear 'Widecombe Fair.' Shall we oblige?”
”By all means. Adam, we need your talents!” After a minor argument about the order of the names in the chorus, they embarked upon the adventures of Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whidden, 'Arry 'Awke, old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all. As always, Adam's version of a Devons.h.i.+re accent was the highlight of the folk song. Halfway through the audience began to join in, with much confusion, and they ended to tumultuous applause.
Sir Reginald winked at Sarah. ”Livened it up a bit, eh?” he said.
The uproar died down and Louise took charge. ”Lydia will sing to us now,” she proclaimed. ”Come, my dear, there is no need to be afraid. The Mozart, I think, and I shall play for you.”
”What the deuce is m'niece up to?” wondered Sir Reginald as an unwilling Lydia was coaxed and bullied into compliance. ”She looks like the cat that stole the cream.”
Lydia's voice was tremulous at first, but after a few bars she lost her self-consciousness and her clear, true soprano rang through the room. Even Louise's enthusiastic but erratic accompaniment could not detract from the glory of the sound. The aria ended in a breathless hush, succeeded by a clamour of approval. Crimson-cheeked, Lydia fled from the room.
”She is not used to any audience but her family,” explained Louise with a triumphant smile. ”I shall go after her.”
Sarah caught Jonathan's eye and a glance of comprehension pa.s.sed between them. He intercepted Louise on her way out of the drawing room, and Sarah knew he was persuading her not to drag poor Lydia back to face the congratulations.
Adam wandered over to Sarah's side. ”One in the eye for Mary,” he observed. ”Little Miss Davis cast even her prodigy into the shade and made the rest of us look nohow.”
”That's shockingly ungallant of you, nevvy,” reproved his uncle.
”Oh, I can say anything to Sarah. She will not take offense.”
If he says that one more time, thought Sarah, I shall scream.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
Though Sarah had been too young for Louise's masquerade, she had since attended many b.a.l.l.s at Cheve. She had always enjoyed them, never having suffered the ignominy of being a wallflower. In fact, it was on those occasions that she had met the gentlemen who subsequently offered for her hand, only to be refused. How could she accept Sir Martin Waytsley or Mr. Gervaise Riggs when she remembered all too clearly her last dance with Adam?
She was not looking forward to the coming ball, and she was not sure why. There was no reason to suppose she would lack for partners. Jonathan had reserved the first dance; Mr. Swanson and Lord James Kerridge had already begged her to save them each a set; Lady Cheverell's sons-in-law might be relied upon for a few more; and the gentlemen of the local gentry were unlikely suddenly to decide to ignore her. To be sure, with three young ladies to court, Adam might not have time to stand up with her, but that was a poor reason for her reluctance to attend. Nonetheless, she was reluctant.
”I believe I shall claim a headache on Sat.u.r.day,” she said impulsively to Jonathan at breakfast on Thursday.
In his surprise he swallowed a morsel of toast the wrong way and choked. As soon as pats on the back and a mouthful of tea allowed, he gasped out, ”Why on earth would you do such a nonsensical thing?”
”I am quite on the shelf by now and it is unbecoming in an old maid to put herself forward.”
”Fustian! Even if you were so prim and proper as to believe that, it is not true that you are on the shelf, my dear. Only look at the way Swan and Kerry follow you about.”
”What has that to say to anything? According to Adam they are both confirmed bachelors. Besides, I have nothing to wear.”
”So now we come to the crux of the matter.” Jonathan laughed. ”Go into Salisbury and buy yourself a new ball gown. I suppose it is too late to have one made up in time, but surely you can find something suitable and have it altered.”
”The new styles are so simple that I daresay it would be possible,” admitted Sarah grudgingly.
He gave her no chance to raise further objections. Dapple was. .h.i.tched to the gig and Sarah drove off with Mrs. Hicks beside her, delighted at the rare opportunity to visit the superior shops of Salisbury.
When they returned, some eight hours later, the gig was full of packages. Most were of a prosaic domestic nature, but one bore the name of Salisbury's premiere modiste and contained, swathed in tissue paper, a delightful confection of gold net over white satin. No one could have guessed that the rouleau around the hem had been rapidly added by expert fingers to allow for Miss Meade's slender height. The white satin corsage, embroidered with gold thread, was somewhat lower than Sarah was accustomed to. She consoled herself with the certainty that Vanessa's and Eliza's necklines would be lower still.
The gown had not been cheap. After spending so much money, she was committed to going to the ball.
During her absence, Adam, Swan and Kerry had called, ostensibly to deliver an invitation to dinner that evening. The three gentlemen spent a part of every day at the vicarage, sometimes accompanied by other members of the party. Since she and Jonathan were invited daily to Cheve House, Sarah had ample opportunity to observe Adam's behaviour toward Lydia, Catherine and Vanessa. As far as she could tell, he treated them with absolute impartiality. Lady Catherine amused him, he enjoyed looking at Vanessa, and he was patiently gentle with Lydia. If he had any preference, he did not show it.