Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

The Plumpton Parish Ladies" Assemblies could hardly be compared to a night in Almack"s, nor the Pump Rooms in Bath, but the villagers of Plumpton regarded them as the greatest outing of the winter season.

As Jane followed her family to The Ring"O"Bells, she saw that the village square was teeming with revellers, all bedecked in their finest costumes. As Plumpton was as far from London as it was possible to be, this finery included but a few modern fashions, with a great many outfits appearing to have been purchased in the previous century.

"I don"t know what Dr Bates is about, dressing like a character from Don Quixote," Mrs Mifford sniffed with disapproval, "If anyone could afford a new set of clothes, it is surely the village doctor."

"I fear Dr Bates prefers to spend his income on pursuits other than fashion, Mama," Jane answered, diverting her eyes away from the good doctor, who sported a full-skirted knee length coat over a very frilled shirt, topped with a tricorn hat. "Besides, his stacked heels give him a nice height and, as you know, Plumpton is sorely lacking in tall male dance partners."

"His height will only be a benefit if he decides to stay longer than an hour," Mrs Mifford could not be placated, "I"m sure there is a book running on what time he will disappear down to the pub at—he"s probably already bet on it himself."

"And he"ll probably lose that bet, as he does all the others," Jane shrugged, earning a laugh from Mrs Mifford, who was fond of finding amusement in other people"s misfortune.

The room which held the assemblies was on the top floor of the tavern and, mercifully, it had its own side-entrance, negating the need to traipse through the pub to reach it. Inside the door, Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling were checking tickets—or gate-keeping, as Jane liked to think of it—and a disorderly queue had formed before them.

"She"s at it again," Mr Mifford sighed, as he spotted the queue before Mrs Canards" table.

"I"m sure this is a forgery," Mrs Canards cried loudly, as she held the ticket a young lady had presented to her up to the light to better examine it.

"It"s not, ma"am," the girl protested, her cheeksred with embarrassment, "His lordship purchased tickets for all the staff at Plumpton Hall, why would he give us forged tickets?"

"Perhaps he had a change of mind," Mrs Canards sniffed, "And decided that it was not proper to invite his staff to such a grand event as this. We can"t allow just anyone in, you know."

"Mrs Canards," Mr Mifford called, his low voice carrying across the room, "Remember, you are a Christian lady."

"Even Christ would baulk at allowing servants into an assembly, vicar," Mrs Canards retorted, before relenting and gesturing for the poor maid to proceed through the door.

Under Mr Mifford"s—and God"s, Jane supposed—watchful eye, the queue moved much quicker, with Mrs Canards offering only the occasional snide remark to feed her hunger for meanness.

"Voucher, please," she snipped, as the Mifford family approached the table.

Mr Mifford presented the voucher, which she snatched from his hand. As with the maid, she made a great show of holding it up to the light so that she could verify its authenticity, before handing it back with a sigh.

"Proceed," she grumbled, before turning her attention to the next person, "Why, Dr Bates, aren"t you the height of fashion?"

Despite the auspicious start to the night, Jane found her spirits lifted quickly as she entered the assembly rooms. Though the dancefloor was empty—for the musicians had not yet begun to play—there was a great buzz in the air, as the villagers awaited the arrival of the viscount.

"I have never seen a murderer in real life," Mr Poulet, the poulterer, confessed to Jane as she joined a small circle of villagers.

"Lord Crabb is not a murderer," Jane protested, but she was cut off by Miss Morton, who looked most fetching in a gown of lilac silk.

"I am so looking forward to seeing Lord Crabb at last," she gushed, her blue eyes alight with excitement, "Though, of course, I still think that to hold an assembly so soon after the last viscount"s demise is a tad unseemly."

Her last remark was delivered with an air of great piety, in case anyone present doubted Miss Morton"s high moral standards. Jane was of a mind to think the remark was worthy of only the most dedicated jobsworth, but as was usually the case when a pretty girl offered an opinion, the young men of the group rushed to validate it.

"You are very right, Miss Morton," Mr Poulet agreed, as he subtly tried to look down the bodice of her dress.

"Never a truer word spoken," Mr Higgins added, with a leer in Miss Morton"s direction.

"I think I shall seek out some syllabub," Jane sighed.

She detached herself from the group and walked the perimeter of the dancefloor, offering greetings and smiles to those she passed.

In the far corner of the room, she spotted Sarah, who was standing next to her cousin. Miss Hughes, Jane thought with a frown, looked even worse than she had at the Society meeting. Though she was the best dressed present—by a country mile—her countenance was so glum and her skin so grey, that even her beautiful gown could not detract from it.

"Jane!"

Sarah flagged Jane down with a very audible hint of relief in her tone. She turned to her cousin with an encouraging smile and prodded her to attention.

"Miss Hughes," Jane greeted them both, "And Miss Hughes, how lovely to see you both. Are you enjoying the evening thus far?"

"Everything is splendid," Sarah gushed, with a faux-enthusiasm that was most unlike her.

"I think I shall fetch some ratafia," Prunella interjected, before listlessly floating away.

Jane said nothing, though she did raise her eyebrows, a signal that prompted Sarah to a weary sigh.

"She is still so upset," Sarah confided, "The idea of the assembly had cheered her, but the lifting of her spirits only lasted a few days. I practically had to drag her into the carriage to get here."

"Melancholia, perhaps?" Jane ventured timidly, for it was not the done thing to discuss such matters.

"Perhaps," Sarah shrugged, casting an anxious glance across the room at her cousin, "Prunella has lived a sheltered life, she has never experienced death; it is only natural that she is shaken by it."

"It will pass," Jane said firmly, "She is to make her come-out next spring, is she not?"

Sarah nodded, her expression much brighter at that thought.

"A season in London with endless balls, new dresses, and handsome men will be sure to lift her spirits," Jane assured her. A figure across the room caught Jane"s eye and she cast Sarah a decidedly wicked look. "Speaking of which; who is that beautiful gentleman by the door?"

Miss Morton, who had been promenading past with her sister, overheard Jane"s remark, and quickly rushed to supply the answer.

"That is Mr Adonis," she sniffed, her disapproval audible, "I don"t care how connected to the Earl of Kettle he is; Mr Marrowbone should arrest him for public indecency. I have never seen a pair of breeches so tight in my life."

Such was Miss Morton"s disapproval, that she continued to stare hard at the scandalously dressed Mr Adonis for another minute, her cheeks remarkably pink. She was not the only one sending glances his way; Jane noted several ladies eyeing Mr Adonis up appreciatively, including her own mother, who actually raised her quizzing glasses in his direction.

"Mr Adonis was to redesign the gardens in Plumpton Hall," Sarah whispered in Jane"s ear, "He is staying on in Plumpton for another commission, since the new viscount decided he did not require his services."

"Who on earth in Plumpton can afford a landscape gardener?" Jane wondered aloud, only to have her question answered instantaneously, as the wealthy and widowed Mrs Lacey, swept over to steal his attention.

"Ah," Jane hid a smile, "I see Mrs Lacey is out of the blacks."

"Only last week," Sarah commented innocently.

They both began to giggle, but as Jane tried to hide her laugh behind her hand, she caught sight of Prunella, who was watching Mr Adonis with an expression of pure agony on her pretty face. A sudden jolt of realisation hit Jane; it was not the loss of Lord Crabb which had so upset Prunella, but the loss of Mr Adonis. There was no doubt that she was sweet on him, and her girlish infatuation had been forced to a halt by the death of Lord Crabb and the ending of Mr Adonis" contract. How painful it must be to watch him flirt with Mrs Lacey, and how cruel to learn so young that a man might feign interest in a woman if he feels he might gain from it.

There was no time to ruminate on the matter any further, for a moment later a call went up that the viscount had arrived, and soon Lord Crabb appeared into view. Jane felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him. She had always considered him handsome but now, dressed in his most splendid attire, his handsome and fashionable form was keenly juxtaposed by the plainness of the great and good of Plumpton—among whose numbers Jane counted herself.

She had been foolish to think that Lord Crabb—a wealthy man who had travelled the whole world—might have any interest in a country-mouse such as she. Jane plucked despondently at the skirts of her dress, a frock which Mary had gifted her, fashioned from emerald green silk. It was a simple dress, without bows or bustles, and earlier Jane had thought it perfectly adequate, now she feared it was matronly and unadorned.

Her hair was swept up into a simple knot, as Mary, the sister most adept at dressing hair, was in London. Even her jewellery was simple and plain; a gold locket at her throat which she had inherited from an aunt.

As Lord Crabb"s eyes swept the room, Jane prepared herself to be overlooked, but they landed on her and stayed there, and a smile broke across his handsome face.

"The viscount is coming this way," Sarah hissed, though there was no need to comment on it, for Jane could see that for herself. The whole room, in fact, was watching and whispering, as Lord Crabb beat a path towards Jane—including Jane"s mother, who was pushing her way through the crowd to reach them.

"Miss Mifford," Lord Crabb smiled as he reached her and gave a low bow. By the time he had righted himself, Mrs Mifford had made her way to Jane"s side, and he was forced to greet her as well.

"Mrs Mifford, always a pleasure," he said, sounding almost sincere.

Jane then introduced Sarah, who curtsied politely before declaring she should go in search of her cousin. Her departure left the viscount alone with just Jane and her mama, who seemed intent on monopolising his attention. Jane"s thoughts drifted away slightly, as her mother gave a long speech on the history of the Plumpton Ladies" Society, but when the musicians at last began to play she returned her attention to the room.

"Pardon the interruption," Mr Mifford appeared at the first note, a knowing gleam in his eyes, "But might I steal my wife away, my lord? We always partake in the first dance of the evening."

"Hush, Albert," Mrs Mifford hissed, "You can"t poach me away when the viscount is so interested in what I am saying."

"Oh, don"t mind me," Lord Crabb was hasty to assure her, "I shouldn"t like to stand in the way of tradition."

With that, Mr Mifford dragged his wife away, her calls to the viscount that she would seek him out later mercifully drowned out by the music.

Once they were alone, Jane turned shy eyes toward the viscount, who was watching her intently.

"I believe you promised me the first dance?"

"Oh, you have only just arrived," she answered, "There are so many other people you need to greet. I can wait to dance, I am not so important."

"You, Miss Mifford," Lord Crabb replied solemnly, "Are the most important person in the room, in my eyes."

Then he held out his gloved hand and Jane took it in her own, and allowed him to lead her to the dancefloor.

As with all country assemblies, the dance was a group one—a lively quadrille—though it felt as romantic as a waltz to Jane. Despite the fact that they switched partners frequently, the viscount"s eyes never left Jane"s. His touch when they were reunited felt like fire, their parting an aching sorrow. The quadrille was, Jane decided as the music came to an end, probably the most romantic of any dance.

Lord Crabb escorted Jane from the floor to her parents, who were both flushed from their own dance.

"Aren"t you a handsome couple?" Mrs Mifford commented, with all the subtlety of a brick, as they approached.

"Thank you, Lord Crabb," Jane said, pointedly ignoring her mother, "That was tremendous fun."

"We shall do it again, before the night is over," the viscount replied, and for a moment Jane feared that her mother was about to swoon.

"I"m coming back for you, Miss Mifford," Lord Crabb whispered, as he left Jane in the safe embrace of her family. He then crossed the room to greet Sir Charles, and the other villagers of note.

"Heavens, Albert," Mrs Mifford whispered, her eyes on the departing viscount, "You must prepare the banns, so you can read them at service tomorrow."

"A tad presumptuous, my dear," Mr Mifford replied, lightly, "He has not asked her yet."

"A second dance is tantamount to a proposal," Mrs Mifford huffed, annoyed that her plan was being thwarted.

"And yet, in the eyes of the law, it really is not," Mr Mifford placed his arms around his wife"s shoulders, "Come, you have two other daughters you may annoy, leave Jane in peace."

With that, Mr Mifford escorted his wife across the room to pester Emily and Eudora. Jane gave a sigh of relief, glad to be free of her mother. Her dance with Lord Crabb had been heavenly and she wished to savour it, not have it tainted by meddling.

Hoping she did not look too dreamy, Jane began a promenade of the room. Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling eyed her speculatively as she passed, while Miss Morton—much to Jane"s delight—wore the expression of one who had just sucked a lemon.

Jane procured a glass of watery ratafia from the refreshment table and idly watched the dancers perform their set. Mrs Lacey was accompanied by Mr Adonis, whose breeches really were far too revealing to dance in, Sarah was dancing with a farmer from another parish, and even James—Nora"s brother—was partaking.

It was a very happy scene, Jane thought, feeling a surge of affection for the villagers of Plumpton. This affection was only slightly dimmed by the arrival of Miss Morton and her sister, followed by several other village ladies, who immediately began to press Jane on her connection to the viscount.

"He walked straight up to you, he"d eyes for no one else," Mrs Buckle remarked.

"That"s not surprising, when the viscount has not been introduced to anyone else in the village," Miss Morton sniffed, "Any port in a storm, as they say. I have the sampler I stitched for the late Lord Crabb in my reticule, perhaps I shall present it to him now."

"I believe he would be touched by your kindness," Jane remarked, her happiness allowing her to be magnanimous to even Miss Morton.

"Oh, because you know him so well," the other girl huffed, before flouncing off in Lord Crabb"s direction.

"Jealousy is an unbecoming shade on any lady," Mrs Buckle chuckled, "She should stitch that on a sampler."

Jane bit her lip to keep from laughing at poor Miss Morton. Luckily, the other ladies were full of gossip about this and that, and there was no need to reply to Mrs Buckle.

After a short while, Sarah approached the group, her brow creased in a frown of worry. She tugged on Jane"s arm to pull her away.

"I cannot find Prunella," she whispered, her worried gaze scanning the room for her cousin.

"She must be around here somewhere," Jane hissed back, "She hardly decided to walk to Hillside House in the dark."

"She might have," Sarah fretted, "She seemed most out of sorts."

"Do not panic," Jane instructed, for Sarah looked about to do just that, "She will be close by, perhaps she wanted a moment alone. She might be overwhelmed by the crowd."

As the assembly room was heaving with bodies, and was hot and noisy as a result, it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion. So much so, that Sarah visibly relaxed and nodded her agreement.

"I shall check outside," Jane decided, "You have a look in the ladies" retiring room—if she"s anywhere, she"s there."

Sarah complied and flitted off, while Jane pushed her way through the crowds to the door. She traipsed down the stairs and out the door to the village square, which was filled with waiting carts and carriages. There were few about, but light shone from the windows of The Ring, which was doing a roaring trade with gentleman who had slipped away from upstairs.

Above, the night sky was dark, but the clouds which had been concealing the moon soon moved, and in the ensuing light, Jane caught sight of a figure moving behind one of the carriages.

Was it Prunella?

Jane moved forward quietly, afraid of startling the girl—or whoever else it might be. She followed the path the figure had taken, around the back of the carriage to the side which faced out onto the green, and as she turned the corner, she gave a gasp at what she saw.

Miss Prunella Hughes in the embrace of Lord Crabb, or rather he in the embrace of she, who had thrown her arms around him.

Not having much experience in romantic matters, Jane thought the whole thing looked most uncomfortable, almost like a struggle. Mrs Mifford had always warned her four daughters that passion was dangerous, and Jane could now see why.

"Miss Mifford," Lord Crabb had spotted Jane, and his eyes were wide with shock.

"Forgive me," Jane squeaked, taking a large step backwards, "I was simply helping Miss Hughes search for her cousin. I see you have found her. Jolly good, as you were."

Without waiting for a reply from either, Jane fled the scene. Her steps were hurried as she raced back to The Ring, only slowing when she caught sight of Sarah.

"He said he saw her go outside," Sarah called, and Jane nodded dumbly in response, not caring to ask who this "he" was.

"She"s behind the carriage," Jane offered, pointing to the vehicle she had found Prunella and the viscount behind.

If they were discovered by Sarah in a compromising position, Lord Crabb would have to offer for Prunella"s hand. The thought caused a dull ache in Jane"s chest, though she pushed it away; it was a fool"s errand to want a man who wanted someone else. Even she knew that.

Despite all her rationalising, however, when Jane returned to the assembly, she found that she was in no mood to stay.

"Eudora," she whispered to her youngest sister, who was seated with the elderly chaperones, "I must go home; I have a migraine."

"You don"t suffer from migraines," Eudora answered, eyeing her suspiciously from over her spectacles.

"And you don"t need spectacles," Jane countered, "Sometimes people just like to pretend."

Mercifully, Eudora found this answer sufficient, and she agreed to inform their parents of Jane"s departure.

Desperate to escape, Jane beat a hasty retreat from the assembly room. She was in too much of a hurry to even care that Mr Bennett was dancing with Flora, the maid.

The mystery of Lord Crabb"s murder meant little to her now, she thought, as she slipped through the quiet village towards home. In fact, at that very moment in time, Jane felt that there was not much at all in the world that she cared about—excepting her bed, where she fully intended to cry herself to sleep.