Carola Dunn (22 page)

Mr Simmons’s good-natured heartiness strongly reminded Nerissa of the General. She decided Caroline had been attracted by his likeness to her much-loved father.

“How now, Miss Wingate,” he said, “you’ll visit us at Buckford, I hope? I’ve just received word the old vicar will retire in the New Year so I expect to be wed to my dear Caroline before Easter.” They exchanged such a fond look that Nerissa was suddenly filled with envy.

There was envy mixed with her curiosity, too, when a few minutes later Dr Firston brought his sweetheart to meet her. Miss Herriot was a tall, statuesque redhead whose gown of cheap green silk with but a single flounce did not detract from her striking appearance. She and John Firston made a handsome couple.

“I have been quite longing to make your acquaintance, Miss Wingate,” she said, adding candidly, “John’s family are in hopes that he will marry you, but I trust we may be friends for all that.”

Nerissa laughed. “Certainly.” Matching candour for candour, she asked, “Are your family also opposed to a match between the two of you?”

“Not exactly, though of course they had rather I married a gentleman of twenty thousand a year, if I could but find one! No, Papa says we may be betrothed as soon as John’s practice allows him to take a house for us. At present he alternates between his brother’s house and horrid lodgings here in Porchester, poor dear. It’s a dreadful thing to say, but what we need is more people falling sick.”

“Dr Firston, pray call at Addlescombe tomorrow,” said Nerissa promptly. “You are sorely needed. My cousin, Mrs Chidwell, is laid up with a desperate case of the sniffles.”

They laughed, and he said, “I will come to Addlescombe tomorrow if you will stand up with me this evening, ma’am.”

So when Miles at last returned, already in evening dress, just as she was going to change, she was able to wave her dance card at him in triumph and announce, “I shall not be a wallflower tonight.”

“No fear of that. Who is on your list?”

“Mr Digby, and General Pettigrew, and Caroline Pettigrew’s curate, and Dr Firston and...”

“Firston!” Miles frowned. “What the deuce is he doing here already? He lives in Porchester so he has no need to come early, and his family is not yet arrived.”

“He came to meet Miss Herriot. He brought her to see me and I like her, even though she is quite beautiful.”

“Oh, his sweetheart,” said Miles dismissively, cheering up. “I wasn’t sure he hadn’t invented her. Have you any blank spaces on your card? I’ve been down in the taproom talking to some fellows and they all begged for introductions.”

“Because they believe me to be an heiress.” She sighed.

“Well, yes, but once they see you your fortune won’t be the only reason.”

With that meagre comfort, Nerissa went to change. More comforting was the discovery that Miles had not, after all, been dallying with some pretty young lady. He probably preferred barmaids anyway, she thought wryly, given his known taste for actresses. Though why she should care, she was sure she didn’t know.

Maud was waiting to help her into the glorious gown, to place the locket about her neck and arrange the rosebuds in her hair. “There’s to be a bit of a jollification in the kitchens while the gentry’s dancing, miss,” she said. “You won’t mind if I go? If you was to need me, any of the inn servants’ll find me quick.”

“Go, and enjoy yourself, Maud. I never thought I needed an abigail, but I don’t know what I should do without you.”

She kissed the girl, who flushed with pleasure. “You look pretty as Miss Anthea in the pitcher tonight, miss. All the gentlemen’ll be begging for a dance.”

Nerissa glanced at the mirror. She knew she would never match Mama’s beauty or presence but tonight, her cheeks pink with excitement, her eyes sparkling, she did look quite pretty. Of course, most of it was due to the gown. Recalling Miss Herriot’s shabby green dress, she was ashamed of ever having wished for a finer necklace.

She went through to the parlour. All the others were there, Miles with his back to her, talking to Raymond. Mr Harwood came up to her.

“My dear young lady, worth every penny, I do declare.” Fumbling in his breast pocket, he drew out a small, velvet-covered box. “And here’s a little something to add the final touch.”

Nerissa held her breath as she undid the tiny brass catch. Everyone was watching her now but they were family, no more disturbing to her than being surrounded by the Playhouse company.

“Pearls! Oh, perfect! How did you guess? ‘A kind overflow of kindness,’ indeed.”

Mr Harwood shook his head, leaned forward, and whispered in her ear. “Not I, my dear. Entirely young Courtenay’s notion, only it would not be proper for him to give them to you himself. However, the cost is to come out of his share when your inheritances are confirmed.” He put a finger to his smiling lips. “Not a word to anyone. He asked me not to tell.”

She looked at Miles across the room, trying to put all her gratitude in her eyes. He grinned and gave her an insouciant wave.

Aunt Jane, sallower than ever in her topaz necklace, bracelet, earrings, and aigrette, pursed her lips. “Shocking extravagance,” she lamented to Sir Neville in a scarcely lowered voice, “and with our money. Barnabas must be turning in his grave.”

* * * *

At that moment, Sir Barnabas was wandering disconsolately through the empty halls and passages of his home. The malicious pleasure he found in listening to Effie honking into a handkerchief had soon faded. He was bored.

Truth to tell, he rather wished he were at the Cross Keys watching his granddaughter dancing the night away. He wished he had seen her face when Harwood presented the pearls. The more she enjoyed herself now, the greater the inevitable fall, he told himself.

He had been furious at first when Harwood gave in to Miles’s pleas to buy the hussy those pearls. Perhaps it would look odd for a reputed heiress to wear no jewels but to claim it was unfair to make her look odd was sheer twaddle. When Sir Barnabas went to the immense effort of materializing to the lawyer to forbid the purchase, the credulous fool insisted he had misjudged the girl. Harwood was bound for disillusionment. One of these days she’d let down her guard and damn herself from her own mouth.

Sir Barnabas had given in over the pearls but made Harwood promise to tell Nerissa they were Miles’s gift. Gratitude might yet lead her into his bed. Her self-control was stronger than Sir Barnabas had reckoned on, though. None of his efforts in that direction had borne fruit.

Before he turned to other methods, he decided, he would provide one more irresistible opportunity for debauchery.

Chapter 15

Dinner with the Pettigrews was a merry affair. They all sat at a long table in the coffee room, which was full of other parties fortifying themselves for an energetic evening. Waiters dashed to and fro with laden trays, dodging between the chairs and somehow never spilling a drop.

Only Sir Neville and Lady Philpott wore long faces. Mr Simmons, seated beside Nerissa, kindly put their soberness down to the need to uphold the dignity of their titles. Raymond, on her other side, and Aubrey seemed to have set aside any pique over the pearls, at least for the present. Matilda had joined a group of cheerfully loud-voiced hunting friends.

Even Mrs Pettigrew’s stiffness melted somewhat. Her husband’s importance as a general officer was confirmed by the presence at his table of the only titled personages in the room. One of her daughters, the less promising, had her betrothed at her side, even if he was a mere curate; the other was captivating the heir to Addlescombe.

However captivated by Miss Anna, Miles did not neglect Miss Sophie, Nerissa noticed. He made sure she was not overlooked by the busy waiters and frequently turned to exchange a few words with her. He was a true gentleman, whatever his past misdemeanours.

And he was a thoughtful, generous friend. Nerissa had to stop herself constantly raising her hand to touch the pearls. She had not had a chance to thank him yet, but already the musicians could be heard tuning up in the assembly room at the back of the inn.

People began to abandon the remains of their dinners and leave the coffee room. Nerissa was in a fever of impatience. She did not want to miss a single step of her dance with Miles. But General Pettigrew was in the middle of a long and involved story which made him chortle frequently though it raised not a hint of a smile from Lady Philpott.

Catching Nerissa’s anxious gaze, Miles nodded towards a clock on the wall. Plenty of time, she realized, wondering how he had read her mind.

At last they moved. Miles joined her, offered his arm, and they entered the crowded passage to the assembly room. As they made their way slowly along it, Nerissa looked up at him.

“How can I ever thank you for the pearls?”

“I told Harwood most particularly not to say they were a gift from me.” Blue eyes laughed at her. “It’s no money out of my pocket since the money has yet to reach my pockets. Besides, it would be highly improper to accept jewelry from a gentleman unrelated to you.”

“You are my god-uncle, remember, and besides I won a crystal coffer full of amber and amethysts from you just last night. Oh Miles, they are quite perfect, the very thing to wear with this gown.”

“I must say you look complete to a shade,” he said approvingly.

“Spanish coin makes a change from Arabian dinars and dirhems.”

“I’m not offering Spanish coin. I’ll be the envy of every man in the room.”

She clutched his arm as panic clutched her heart. “No, Miles, will everyone stare when we go in? When we dance?”

“Why the deuce should they? You’re a pretty girl, not a Jinni summoned by a magic lamp.”

“Because we are strangers?”

“There are bound to be other strangers, and I wager you have met most people already anyway. Look, there are the Loftings just ahead of us, and the Digbys behind. I’ll tell you what, if people do stare it will be at Aubrey not at you.”

For the first time, Nerissa looked properly at Cousin Aubrey’s evening clothes. With pantaloons of a delicate primrose hue, he wore a coat of russet velvet adorned with huge gilt buttons, pinched at the waist and padded at the shoulders in his usual exaggerated manner. His true glory, however, was his new waistcoat, a marvel of chocolate-brown silk embroidered with gold stars and a border of gold curlicues.

With his dyed hair and painted face, he suddenly struck Nerissa as a larger-than-life stage figure, an older version of Lucian Gossett. Of course, Lucian had talent to excuse his vanity, but he, too, would probably one day dye his hair when the gold began to fade.

Miles, elegant in black and white at her side, would never stoop to such stratagems. He was not as handsome as Lucian, but his dark hair would grey naturally, giving him a distinguished air. Then his crooked nose would lend a hint of whimsicality which accorded far better with his character than the slightly sinister impression Nerissa had originally received.

She flushed as his quizzical smile told her she was staring. As for anyone staring at her, lost in thought she had entered the assembly room entirely oblivious of the rest of the world.

“Aubrey’s waistcoat is quite dazzling, isn’t it?” Miles said. “Like something out of the Arabian Nights. Pray rest your gaze on my eye-soothing profile as long as you wish.”

Nerissa laughed. “When I first met you, I thought your profile made you look like an Iago or a Cassius.”

“‘Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look,’--probably because you were feeling lean and hungry at the time, though admittedly the sister of a friend of mine once called me piratical.”

“You saved my life with an apple and biscuits, so I knew you were no pirate.”

“I have never plundered a ship, but I admit to stealing the first dance from Digby.”

“I am glad you did. I shall need you to remind me of the steps at first, until I grow accustomed to dancing among so many people and with proper music.”

“Madam, you insult my whistling! Come, let us stand next to your friend Miss Pettigrew. She will not mind if you go astray.”

They followed Caroline and Mr Simmons onto the floor as the fiddlers struck up the first country dance. At first Nerissa had no attention to spare from her feet but she soon found it was easier to watch what everyone else was doing instead of trying to recall the steps. If she faltered, Miles or Caroline steered her right. They united to steer Mr Simmons, too, as he bumbled through the pattern of the dance like a good-natured puppy, with more willingness than skill.

By the end of the set, they were all breathless with laughter and exercise. Nerissa was glad of a few minutes respite, sitting with Miss Sophie while the gentlemen hunted out their next partners.

Before Mr Digby claimed her hand, she had time to look about her. The dark coats of the gentlemen formed a background for the rainbow hues of the ladies’ gowns. Here and there a jewel glittered, but most of the ladies wore jet or amber beads, gold chains, or at most pearls. Lady Philpott’s topazes were the finest gems to be seen, as she was obviously aware, however sallow they made her. Nerissa realized her pearls were perfect not only for her gown but for the occasion.

The long room was decorated with scarlet-berried holly and fragrant evergreens, and three bunches of mistletoe hung from the ceiling. As couples took their places for the second dance, Nerissa saw several snatched kisses, pecks on the cheek that left girls blushing and young men grinning.

Mr Digby appeared before her, bowed and escorted her to join a set. She prayed he would not use the mistletoe as an excuse to try to kiss her.

On the other hand, she found herself quite indignant when he waxed eloquent on the subject of a particularly fine pair of trout he had caught the previous day. Her first ball was no place for a parade of piscatorial prowess!

She saw Miles, in the next set, twirling Anna Pettigrew directly beneath one of the clumps of mistletoe. Anna glanced up, fluttered her eyelashes, pouted. Miles ignored the suggestive byplay but Nerissa guessed from his sardonic look that he was aware of it. He caught her eye and gave her a suspicion of a wink.