The Moon by Night (54 page)

Bain said with admiration, “Madame, I never knew a lady of such grace and distinction who could discuss arms so eloquently. Tell me, is your interest purely of an artisan nature, or historical, or could it be that you have a personal interest in Boutet pistols?”

With an effort Shiloh turned his attention away from the guests on his right to the guests on his left, Allan Blue and Miss Minerva Wilcott. They knew each other well, of course, for Minerva had made many trips to the orphanage with Victoria. Minerva was saying in her wide-eyed naïve manner, “Captain Blue, I had no idea you had such an exciting role in the War between the States! Colonel Duvall just told me that you were a spy! How exciting!”

On her other side Richard leaned forward to speak to Allan directly. “We were actually speaking of Charleston, Captain Blue, and I mentioned your famous exploits in making maps of the intricacies of the inland waterways.” He was signaling to Allan that he hadn't spoken of any of the painful things in his past.

Allan smiled at Minerva. He was a man with gentle features and a rather bookish demeanor, but he was no longer a weak man, as he once had been before he found the Lord. “Actually, I was what came to be termed as a ‘double agent,' and I'm fairly certain all that means is that I was doubly deceitful, not dashing. Still, in spite of the terrible circumstances of that time and the darkness I was in, God brought much good out of what was a terrible mortal coil.”

“Shakespeare, Hamlet's soliloquy,” Minerva said dreamily, much to Allan's, Richard's, and Shiloh's surprise. Shiloh saw that Bain and Irene had turned to listen to her. Beside Bain, Victoria watched Minerva with an affectionate, satisfied smile.

Minerva went on in a soft hypnotic tone, “‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil….' So do you, Captain Blue, believe in the ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune'? Or do you believe that our fate is writ with the finger of God?”

“The latter, most certainly,” Allan said when he recovered his surprise at Minerva's eloquence. “If you knew the entire story of my wanderings, Miss Wilcott, and the depths of the hole that I dug and then flung myself into as fast as I could, you, too, would see that only the strong arm of Providence could have ever made any good come out of my life again.”

Shiloh saw Bain's curiosity and turned to him. “If it had not been for Captain Allan Blue, I might never have found out about my father and mother, Cousin. Our lives became intertwined in ways so unlikely that it could only have been Almighty God who put us all together—me, Cheney, Captain Blue, his family. And how we met Jeremy, his son!” He shook his head. “I still can hardly believe it.”

Bain's eyes had glazed somewhat when Shiloh mentioned Almighty God, but in spite of himself he was interested. “I would very much like to hear this story, Captain Blue,” he said lightly. “As strange as it seems, I have never heard the entire recounting of how Locke managed to find us.” This last was said in a very dry satirical manner, but part of Bain's genius was that it was difficult to be sure whether he was satirizing others or himself. Shiloh was still trying to work it out when Minerva Wilcott came through with her true colors and broke the tension.

“At any rate Captain Blue, Colonel Duvall did say that you were a cartographer. So that must mean that you understand geometry, does it not?” she asked politely.

“Well, yes, I suppose I do,” Allan said, mystified.

“Oh! How simply amazing. Do you suppose that you could explain to me—in very simple terms, please—how one might look at a lake, for example, and use geometry to reduce it to a squiggle on a piece of paper?”

Allan looked perplexed at this request. His mouth moved, but no sounds came out. From across the table Irene said, with an almost devilish twinkle in her gentle green eyes, “Yes, Captain Blue, please do account for this. I have often wondered about such squiggles myself.”

“There, you see, I insist that you all are my witnesses that geometry actually makes no sense,” Minerva said with satisfaction. “If Miss Irene cannot account for it, then it must be so.”

Allan, in the courtliest and smoothest manner ever imagined, bowed slightly to his dinner partner. “As you say, Miss Wilcott. I would never presume to disagree with either you or Mrs. Duvall.”

“Another mortal coil uncoiled satisfactorily, Miss Wilcott. ‘To be or not to be' geometrical is settled,” Bain observed with the merest hint of cutting his eyes toward Shiloh to share his amusement.

Minerva smiled brilliantly and then shed it around so that it was more like a bright snowfall in general than a meaningful personal moment shared with Bain. Miss Minerva Wilcott may have been rather fluff-brained about some things, but she knew full well how to keep a proper distance from a man of such rakish charm as Bain Winslow. “Yes, Mr. Winslow, and isn't it amazing that one may find an applicable quote in Shakespeare for almost any true-to-life situation? Particularly in
Hamlet,
it seems to me.”

As the dinner progressed, Shiloh very slowly relaxed and even began to actually taste the food he was eating. The courses, perfectly prepared by Sketes and perfectly served by Jauncy, went by, one after the other, to universal acclaim. After about a half hour Shiloh was intensely interested to note the cross-conversations of the guests. Irene, Bain, and Victoria were now sharing in a conversation across the table with Allan Blue and Minerva about theater.

Shiloh also managed to comprehend something of what was going on down at Cheney's end of the table. Cleve, Lawana, Richard, Jane Anne, and Dev were all talking together about the wide array of musical selections possible for dancing later, as Shiloh had engaged an ensemble of two violins, a viola, and a violoncello.

He heard Jauncy's voice in his head:
“It will be very easy for your guests to engage the dinner partners on either side of them. But one way to judge if a dinner party is truly going well is to observe if people also carry on animated conversations across the table. The former conversation is artificial, a rule of polite social discourse. But the latter often signals the development of friendships rather than acquaintances making conversation….”

Shiloh was acutely aware that Bain seemed to be truly enjoying himself, participating in the conversations with obvious interest.

Shiloh glanced down the table and caught Cheney's eye as she was laughing at something that Dev had said. In Shiloh's eyes she was dazzling. Her eyes seemed so green that he thought he could see the emerald glint even from so far away; her cheeks were blushed a lovely deep peach hue; her auburn hair gleamed and glinted like fire in the candlelight; and the fine features of her face were as a flower in the height of bloom. In his head, as he often did, he knew her thought.
I am so happy. I am enjoying this evening so much. Thank you, husband
.

He looked at her and mouthed,
Welcome
.

****

“And so, Mr. Duvall, you and Locke have devised a means of strengthening the structure of
Locke's Day Dream
with iron? How can one combine the use of new iron with old wood?” Bain asked, his brow furrowed.

“We make the hanging knees of iron, completely replacing the wooden ones,” Richard explained. “The secret is the bracket, you see. You must devise the brackets so that they are attached to still-healthy wood.”

As often happened in mixed company, the men had drifted to one part of the room and the women to the other. Cheney and Irene watched the gentlemen with affection. They were gathered at the door of the parlor, and Jauncy was—amusingly—dressing them. Even as Richard spoke so knowledgeably about such masculine things as iron and ships and braces and brackets, Jauncy was helping him into his overcoat and briskly brushing his shoulders and handing him his gloves and hat and walking stick. Richard never missed a word. Then Jauncy retrieved Bain's articles, held up his coat, which Bain slipped into, talking all the time, and Jauncy repeated the treatment before going on to the next set of outerwear, the next oblivious gentleman.

“Jauncy is absolutely priceless,” Irene observed to the ladies gathered around. “If anyone ever thought that my son-in-law may be inexperienced in retaining servants, I offer Mr. Phinehas Beddoes Jauncy as proof of Shiloh's ingenuity.”

“How did he find him?” Miss Wilcott asked curiously. “I don't believe I've heard Jauncy's story.”

“Oh, he just sort of popped up,” Cheney said, quoting Shiloh mischievously. “Actually, Shiloh could hardly have missed him. Jane Anne, Laura's cloak is an absolute dream. Here, may I help you?” The Blues' daughter, Laura, was mentally handicapped, and though she was now ten years old, she only weighed twenty pounds, and was simply a lap baby. Jane Anne was having some difficulty putting Laura's new cloak—a long velvet one with a hood trimmed in rabbit fur—around her. Cheney helped hold Laura while Jane Anne draped it around her. “Mrs. Buchanan gave Laura this for Christmas, and I must admit it's so nice to actually dress her, instead of swaddling her in blankets like a baby,” Jane Anne said. “Doesn't she look so pretty?”

The ladies all agreed, for the child did look pretty, with her honey gold hair and big blue eyes.

They were readying themselves and the children to go out to the park for the band concert and the fireworks. It was a cold night but brilliantly clear, and there was no cruel wind. Mrs. Barentine dressed Dart and her son Alex in their woolen jackets and caps. Laura and Lisette were securely wrapped up in their carriages, and Fiona helped Solange with her brand-new woolen mantle with the tasseled tie and hood. The women managed to get their own cloaks and gloves and hats on, and Victoria observed mischievously, “Isn't it amazing how helpless men are? Look at them. I swear, if Jauncy wasn't making them wear their coats and mittens, they'd wander out in the cold without them, poor little lost kittens. Oh, dear, Solange, perhaps we'd better not read quite so much Mother Goose. I'm beginning to sound just like her.”

****

Although it was cold, the Irons-Winslow party lingered until the very last firecracker. By the time they returned to the town house and went upstairs to the library, it was already eleven o'clock.

Jauncy and Sketes had, again, been extremely busy while the party was in the park. They had set up the long library table as a buffet. There were sandwiches, cold meats, cheeses, crackers, the fruits that
Locke's Day Dream
had so providentially brought in, hot punch, cocoa, tea, coffee, sparkling water, lemonade, and a big silver bowl of wassail that was so fragrant with spices it seemed to be more for the scent than for the beverage.

Earlier that day Shiloh and Jauncy had rolled up the rugs and stored them and polished the hardwood floors. In one corner of the room they had set up the musicians' four straight chairs and made room for their instruments and music stands. The room was the largest in the house, and with the furniture either stored or pushed against the walls, there was plenty of room for dancing.

Once everyone had had at least one hot beverage and had, as it were, settled in, Shiloh clapped his hands and announced, “My wife and I would like to thank you all for joining us tonight, and we ask that everyone please join us in beginning the dance with the quadrille!” This was the dance that opened even royal balls, a stately, formal, sedate choreography that was one of the oldest formal dances known.

Cheney and Shiloh, leading the group, were doing exceedingly well, as they were graceful dancers and in particular danced well with each other. Unfortunately, Sean and Shannon decided that this would be a fine time to perform their favorite greetings. Sean head-butted Shiloh's knees, and Shannon leaned on Cheney's legs. This spoiled the beautiful symmetry of the dance somewhat, but it only increased the merriment. Sean and Shannon were incorporated into the remainder of the dance by Cheney and Shiloh, laughing, with hands joined, simply threading their way around with the dogs shuffling with them.

Next came a fast, fun polka, then a lovely waltz, an energetic allemande, and then another waltz.

Bain bowed to his partner, Miss Wilcott, as they finished the allemande, then turned and headed straight for Fiona. She was sitting in the bay window with Solange, half hidden in the depths of the window seat. When she saw Bain coming toward her, her breath caught, her cheeks stung, and her heart began beating its foolish fast skip. She wanted to avert her gaze, but as if she were a pinned butterfly, she struggled but couldn't move.

Solange, with her poignant ultrasensitivity to adults' moods, cringed slightly as Bain approached, and she clung to Fiona's hand.

Bain's eyes flickered when he saw the child flinch. He stopped a few feet away from the seat, so as not to loom over them threateningly. “Miss Solange, I believe? We have not been properly introduced, but perhaps Miss Keane would do me the honor now.”

Fiona managed to sound much calmer than she felt. “Mr. Bain Winslow, may I present to you Miss Solange Fortier. She has only lately come to Mr. and Mrs. Devlin Buchanan's household, and we are just today making fast friends. Solange, may I present to you Mr. Bain Winslow. He is Mr. Shiloh's cousin.”

“And is he your fast friend too, Fiona?” Solange asked shyly, in her manner of repeating English phrases.

Fiona blushed painfully again, while Bain's wide full mouth twitched with amusement at her confusion.

“I cannot answer for Miss Keane, Miss Solange, but for my part, Miss Fiona is my fast friend. I hope.”

“Yes—I—Yes,” Fiona finally managed. “Yes, Solange, we are friends. And yes, Mr. Winslow, I should like to think that we are fast friends.”

“Good,” he said briskly. “Because I believe that fast friends should dance the waltz. It should be a rule. Miss Solange, I should very much like to ask Miss Keane for this dance, so may I escort you to another friend so that you won't be left alone and lonely in this window seat?”