Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

H uman nature is well-disposed towards those who bring newness to what was dull, and excitement to what has become jaded. And when beauty is added to novelty, it is hard to resist. Margaret, being new to town, and very beautiful if she could but know it, had raised the attentions of several young men. Margaret found to her consternation that she had one young man after another lining up to solicit her hand for a dance, calling upon her the day following a ball or evening at the theatre, and falling over themselves to be first in her regard.

Fanny, of course, had sent them all away from Harley-street with tails between their legs. None were good enough for her brother's half-sister, since the quality of Margaret's would-be beaus must reflect upon the Dashwoods. The only person viewed as exalted enough to pay his addresses to Margaret, it seemed, was Mr Ambrose.

And he was with them, or meeting them, always, it seemed. They would meet by chance in the park, or Fanny would see him across the road as they shopped in Bond-street, or he would attend the same balls and evening parties as they did themselves. Margaret had to admit that she had warmed to him a great deal, through being so much thrown into his company. He was charming, attentive in his own understated manner, and kept her fascinated with amusing accounts of his friends, his pursuits, which were not merely confined to shooting and horses, and she was entranced by his accounts of the many delightful places he had visited here and abroad. He seemed to her the most interesting man she had ever met, and she was increasingly conscious of the honour her did her by his notice.

Four weeks after her arrival in town, she was engaged to Fanny and John to attend an evening party, a private ball given by one of Fanny's acquaintances. Ambrose, as usual, was to be there also, and Margaret realized, as the maid fussed with her hair, that she wanted to look pretty—she wanted to look her best, and she knew enough of her own heart to understand that it was for the benefit of the gentleman who had begun to claim her thoughts more than any other gentleman.

She was a little taken aback at this realization, for Ambrose had done little enough to overtly encourage her admiration. His speeches were short and brief, his manner often indolent and expressionless, and his air one of someone who had the greatest respect for his own standing in the world. But despite these things, she realized, somehow he had made her wish very much to be admired by him, to be thought beautiful—to receive one of his rare compliments. Perhaps it was the fact that she had to work so hard for his approval which made it all the more worth having, she thought. At any rate, she wished to appear in her best looks tonight—more than this she would not investigate in herself.

She was grateful, of course, for John's arm when they attended routs and parties, for she did not like to go among so many people without someone to guide her, but Ambrose had increasingly taken the larger share of this duty, since they were so often at the same events. She found that she was coming to depend upon him, and that he did indeed make the long evenings most pleasant for her. Ambrose was so very interesting to her, she thought, as the maid put the finishing touches to her hair, that everything seemed more interesting around her when he was in the room.

‘Will that be all, Miss?' the servant asked finally.

‘Thank you Mary. You have made me look very—different!'

‘Different? I'd call it very pretty, Miss, with that lovely skin of yours! It glows like a candle flame!'

‘That is much to poetic for me, I'm afraid, but it's very kind.'

The girl departed, and Margaret was left with her thoughts. She certainly had come to town with no intention at all of becoming attached to anyone while she was here! Besides, what did she know of love, besides one proposal which had been rejected? Captain Edwin was so—so different to Mr Ambrose! It was easy to approve him, all disarming frankness and kindness—but there was something so much more fascinating about Mr Ambrose. She found that she very much wished Mr Ambrose to approve her ! He would not care if she approved him, for he did not seem to care if the entire world disapproved him, which seemed to her to make his regard worth having!

‘Am I in love?' she asked the looking glass, but it was silent as she stared at her reflection. ‘If only Elinor were here, or even Marianne! They would be able to tell me what love feels like!'

Once the unthinkable emotion had been expressed aloud, it seemed not so unlikely, nor so foolish. She had not come to town to find herself a husband, but she had always hoped for the kind of love that she could see between her sisters and their husbands—and if she could find such a man herself, one who was as charming and kind, and who could teach her about the world, would she not have her every desire fulfilled in such a union ?

When they arrived at the elegant establishment of Lady Benchley, she was greeted with the greatest display of warm admiration by the waiting gentleman who had been the subject of her thoughts for some time, and it was all she could do to accept his compliments with a creditable display of unconsciousness. Other young men, although she was conscious of being looked at, did not try to come to her, as if they knew that Ambrose had claimed her.

When he had come forward to greet their party, he had looked at her so admiringly that she had been very glad, for once, that she had made such an effort with her dress. That she was appearing to great advantage tonight, in her sheer muslin gown, white on white, she had begun, unusually, to have some idea of, for she had seen her own reflection in the glass before leaving the house. She could understand a little, now, of what he must be seeing. For the first time, she was glad of her new gowns.

Many eyes rested upon them once they were admitted to the drawing rooms. These were crowded to the walls with elegant and finely dressed people, all staring at her either obviously or under cover of the dim lighting. She blushed a little to think that they all might be assuming an attachment when she was not sure he was only being polite to the sister of his friend. Fanny and John, however, provided a welcome foil for her face as she proceeded to move forward to the chairs, and then to sit between them, as Ambrose stood behind her.

Several of the ladies stared at her, some with curiosity, some with respect, and she lowered her head, finding herself too much the object of attention, she supposed, simply because Ambrose was kind enough to make her welcome. Soon the dancing started, and Fanny moved off to speak to some party of acquaintance or other, signalling John to go, too. The manner in which she was left alone with Mr Ambrose was so obvious as to be almost comical, but while she was amused, she was pleased also.

Presently, Ambrose moved to sit in the chair which Fanny had vacated. After looking out over the people around them, he remarked ‘I do hope you are not made tired from the other night, for I hope you will dance with me tonight.'

Margaret would have given her assent, when young Mr Lavenham, a handsome fair-haired fellow whom she had danced with only two nights ago, approached her.

‘Good evening, Miss Dashwood! How very charming you look tonight! Good evening, Ambrose,' the gentleman bowed stiffly towards his rival.

Mr Ambrose was now obliged to stand up and shake the fellow's hand, but he eyed Lavenham with an expression of restrained tolerance.

‘I do hope, Miss Dashwood,' the young man continued eagerly, after hearing that she was very well indeed, ‘that you might be free for the next dance?'

‘Oh! I—I—' Margaret blushed wildly, unsure of how to let the poor man down without giving offence. She did not at all wish to dance with Mr Lavenham, and yet, she did not think it right to refuse him since Mr Ambrose had not yet expressly asked her!

Ambrose, however, seemed to consider the matter as settled, and exercised his prior claim. ‘The lady has already consented to dance these next two with me, but perhaps Miss Dashwood will favour you with a dance later in the evening.' His tone was smooth but his conscious claim on Margaret was unequivocal.

Mr Lavenham however was clearly put out. ‘Indeed. Certainly! The fair Miss Dashwood is a most charming dancer—capital indeed! A most delightful—at Almacks, I had the pleasure of?—'

Margaret did not hear the rest of this pretty speech, for Mr Ambrose, having taken her arm now bore Margaret away from the young man without looking back. Poor Mr Lavenham was only able to watch her walk away, knowing he had lost this first round.

‘Poor Lavenham is a love-sick pup,' remarked Ambrose with a smile as he took his place opposite her. ‘I hope I did not spoil your evening by preventing you from dancing with a more nimble partner!' The music began.

‘Love-sick? What can you mean!' Margaret coloured. ‘I hardly know him!—he has spoken to me but twice and that was at Almack's two days ago!'

‘Well, never mind him, young men must get used to being rejected—he cannot dance with you if you have already accepted me, and you had, had you not?'

She flushed. ‘I suppose—I suppose that I was about to accept you. And yet I'm afraid I was little rude—to tell the truth I am so seldom at a ball that I am afraid I must seem very awkward to you!'

‘You must allow me to be your guide in these things' he added, gazing down at her in his expressionless way as they proceeded down the dance. ‘You were perfectly right in coming away with me.'

‘Still—I do not like to give offence. Poor Mr Lavenham!'

‘All's fair in love and war, Miss Dashwood. I was first to ask for a dance—you would had to have refused him even if I had not saved you the trouble! I think I am right in guessing that you preferred to dance with me.'

His eyes, as they moved among the dancers, did not leave hers, and her stomach quivered at the intensity of his gaze. She dropped her eyes and made a pretence of concentrating on the dance steps, a confusion of interesting sensations overcoming her.

Ambrose did not allow her to be silent for long however, and soon he was asking how she had amused herself during the day. But her replies, given as they were at intervals, were sporadic, for they did not always come together long enough to say anything very much. . Then, as the dance steps took them to the end of the set to wait for the next couple, she suddenly realized that all the room was watching them dance with great interest, and no doubt it was her partner whom drew their comments.

Noticing her bashful looks and raising his brows rather amusedly, he asked her as they met again to parade down the dance, ‘You must tell me how you like London, Miss Dashwood, now that you have been here some weeks, for it is quite obvious that London likes you, very much indeed!'

‘People are looking at us, but I rather think it is you they are interested in! They could be asking themselves why I, with no name or rank, am so fortunate in my partners, but they might rather be asking why you would bother dancing with a mere low-born country girl!' Her question was a challenge.

‘I wonder why indeed!' He lowered his voice so that only she could hear his next words. ‘Could it be that her beauty has captivated me? That her person is becoming so pleasantly familiar to me that I cannot help but wish for her company at every opportunity?'

Margaret had not been used to receiving such attentions, in such a direct manner, and now she did not know where to look. Her insides felt like butterflies had been loosed there! He did love her! He had not said it exactly , but, surely his words meant that he loved her?

But she had no notion of what to reply, and was saved the embarrassment of doing so as the dance ended at that moment. Finding her silenced, he led her back to the throngs of ladies and gentlemen and, she was thankful, into the midst of the crowd so that she could hide her rosy cheeks a little. As the crowds milled around them she was jostled against him as they forced their way towards her party. He steadied her, one arm around her waist, and although the gesture was only momentary, her stomach gave a little flutter. She was now conscious only of his person so close beside her, and a new warmth spread overspread her.

John and Fanny were not to be seen as Ambrose ushered her towards the seats, but as soon as she was seated, he offered most civilly to fetch her a glass of cordial, which she accepted gratefully. When he was gone away, she looked around almost desperately for Fanny or John, but only John's head could be seen, quite a distance across the room, and just as she was about to go to him, she caught the eye of another guest, the younger Miss Henrietta Rush, who was sitting several chairs away. When in conversation the lady was animated, and quite pretty, thought Margaret, but now, with no one nearby to be cheerful for, her gaze was harder than Margaret had thought her capable, and she seemed somehow displeased. That Miss Henrietta Rush was jealous, jealous of herself, now struck Margaret forcibly, and taken a little aback by the malice in other woman's eyes, she bowed her head briefly and then turned away from Miss Rush, and made as if to look about for Fanny.

Mr Ambrose returned that moment with her cordial, and as she accepted it gratefully, John and Fanny now rejoined them, and soon they were all seated and conversing above the music which had begun again. An undiscouraged and hovering Mr Lavenham soon caught her eye and when he approached she gave him a most polite smile, as he came forward to request the next dance.

Mr Ambrose, still in conversation with John and Fanny, could do nothing but make some civil remark as Mr Lavenham escorted Margaret away to dance. This was now almost a torment to poor Margaret, who was by now dying to speak in private once again to Mr Ambrose, and give him the opportunity to say more!

Still, she felt that it would be most prodigious of her to be seen now with a variety of young men, rather than allow the company to suspect either her or Mr Ambrose of an attachment which had not been declared although it had been strongly intimated. Wishing for her company at every opportunity? Captivated by her beauty? Were these the compliments of a lover? While they made her heart beat rather rapidly, she still barely knew if he was teasing her or sincere!

For all she knew Mr Ambrose might simply be paying John and Fanny the compliment of attending to their half-sister, or worse, amusing himself with her. After all, she had no rank or money to recommend her to the likes of Mr Ambrose and hardly imagined that country girls were his style. But still, she admitted that she found his attractions growing on her.

She felt rather sorry for the young men she would dance with that evening, for she knew that were they to come calling the following day as etiquette dictated, they, as with all the others, would be turned away politely but firmly by Fanny. It was just as well, she thought, for none of them were likely to win her heart. Mr Ambrose was the only person who had come close to making her give up her notions of remaining single—if only she could tell if he were sincere in his advances or not! Then she would know how to comport herself!

But while she might have objections to the eager young men who sought her hand to stand up with, she had no objections to dancing and to enjoying herself in general, and the rest of the evening past in a blur of music, dancing, pleasant gentlemen and several glasses of punch. She had quite expected Mr Ambrose to solicit her hand again to stand up, but, to her disappointment, he did not, but danced again with several of the young ladies present, and at one instance, he stood up with no less than the vivacious Miss Henrietta Rush. The young lady managed to simper and flutter her way through the quadrille with him in such a manner as made Margaret once again blush for the reputation of all females, supposing she was their representative, but she liked even less to see Mr Ambrose lean in quite closely to the young lady's ear and whisper something which seemed quite diverting to them both, for she laughed heartily, and he smiled one of his rare smiles, making Margaret feel quite put out.

She wondered, not for the first time, if his interest in herself must be his form of finding entertainment in a city grown, by his own admission, terribly dull to one who frequented it half the year round, and suddenly she was shocked to find that she was admitting something of jealousy, which she had never experienced before.