Chapter Four

A unt Eloisa was becoming anxious. "It is not like Worth to be late," she said, several times, peering at the clock as if responsibility for the tardiness of the Earl of Frome fell entirely on its clockwork shoulders.

Frome did not always eat with them, but apparently tonight, he was expected. "He told me this morning that he would be dining at home. He is always such a considerate boy. I wonder what on earth might have happened?"

The clock was five minutes past the hour appointed for dinner when a footman hurried into the room and whispered to the butler. "My lady," the butler then said to Aunt Eloisa, "his lordship has just arrived home. He will change and be down shortly. He said to begin without him."

"Nonsense," said Aunt Eloisa. "If he will be here shortly, we shall wait. Send to the kitchen and let them know they can send up the first service as soon as Frome comes down the stairs."

"Yes, my lady," said the butler and summoned a footman to take his message.

"Oh dear," said Mrs. Bartley. "I do hope that nothing unfortunate has occurred. Frome is normally so punctual."

Seeing the worry in Aunt Eloise's eyes, Jen reminded both ladies, "We know Frome is home, and if he is changing for dinner, he must be in one piece."

Aunt Eloisa brightened at the thought. "That is true, my dear." She changed the topic to the evening's entertainment and was distressed to hear that Jen did not have an invitation.

"Not even to the Beauchamp ball?" she exclaimed.

"I do not mind, Aunt Eloisa. Indeed, I am unaccustomed to the late nights, so it is a boon, really."

Mrs. Bartley sighed, deeply. "I am sorry to say, Eloisa, but Miss Ward is not having the social success that one might have hoped. Indeed, I do not understand it, for she is as pretty and as well-behaved a young maiden as one could hope to meet. But she is not asked to dance nor do the hostesses introduce her. One would hope Frome… but there. Young men seldom think of such things for themselves."

She turned to Jen. "I have been away from London for such a long time that I am of little use to you, dear Miss Ward. I hoped it would resolve itself after a few entertainments when people could see how well you conducted yourself. But I truly believe it is getting worse."

Aunt Eloisa looked distressed. "Jen, dear, why did you not tell me?"

"I did not want to upset you," Jen admitted. "You have been so kind, so good to me. I do not mind about not dancing, and if people do not want to speak to me, then I certainly do not want to speak to them."

"Dancing!" Mammi declared. "I love dancing. A pink gown with lace, and when I turned and turned it looked like a bell made from sugar, Anthony said. A sweet, sweet bell." She smiled into nowhere, and began to sway to and fro to music no one else could hear.

"Who is Anthony?" Mrs. Bartley whispered.

Jen shook her head. She didn't know. "Someone Mammi mentions now and then. A memory, perhaps? Don't ask her. It upsets her."

Jen had done so in the past when she was younger. Each time, Mammi had become agitated and would huddle on her bed, hugging her legs and crying. Left to live in the memory, if it was a memory and not imagination, she was happy.

Frome entered the drawing room just as the butler announced, "Dinner, my lady."

"Thank you for waiting, Grandmother," he said. "I am most sorry for my tardiness, but truly, it was unavoidable. I hope you and the other ladies will forgive me?" Frome was smiling. It was the sort of smile that attests to some internal source of happiness that could not be contained.

Jen burned to ask, but she kept her mouth shut, unsure if their fragile new accord allowed such curiosity.

As usual, Frome offered his arm to Aunt Eloisa and the other ladies followed the couple into the dining room. "Miss Ward," he asked when they were all seated and the first bustle of serving was over, "may I enquire about your plans for this evening? I have been invited to the Beauchamp ball, and I wondered if I might be permitted to escort you."

Aunt Eloisa beamed. "Of course, she will," she said. "This shall be just the thing for you, Jen. I am so pleased, Worth," she added, "that you have finally decided to do your duty by my guest."

Frome turned accusing eyes on Jen, but Aunt Eloisa added, "I had no idea she was being given the cold shoulder until Mrs. Bartley mentioned it this evening."

She turned her gentle scold to Jen. "You should have told me, my dear. Can you believe it, Worth? The child tells me that she did not want to upset me! Tonight, she was going to stay at home, and she tried to convince me that she would prefer it."

Now Frome's eyes were warm as he gazed at Jen, and she shivered, unsure of how to respond. "Perhaps she would, Grandmother. Miss Ward? Will you favor me by permitting me to escort you tonight? I promise that the ton will not turn away from you if you are on my arm."

Jen had conflicting feelings. On the one hand, she wanted, just once, to fulfill her childhood dream of dancing at an upper-class ball. On the other hand, it smarted that the very people who had been insulting her for weeks would accept her on the word of one of their own.

"Please?" said Frome. "How else am I to bring you into fashion?"

"We shall change after dinner," Mrs. Bartley declared. "Oh, Miss Ward, I am so excited!

After that, the two older ladies dominated the conversation through most of the dinner, with the occasional surprisingly apposite comment by Mammi. Talk of balls they had attended moved to comparisons of yesterday's ornate gowns with today's much simpler styles.

"The men looked so beautiful in their colorful brocade coats and matching breeches, with all the lace on their cuffs and their cravats," Mrs. Bartley mourned. "Today's fashion for plain dark colors is so melancholy."

"Yes, that scoundrel Brummel has much to answer for," Aunt Eloisa agreed. "Mind you, some took fashion to excess." And they were off again, exchanging stories of ridiculous flights of fancy by both men and women. Had a lady really attended a ball with a live bird as part of her hair adornment?

Aunt Eloisa had a dozen other stories about the wigs that had once been an essential part of the dress of both ladies and gentlemen. Mrs. Bartley was ten years younger, and wigs had already been falling out of favor by the time she made her debut.

When Aunt Eloisa rose to signal the end of dinner, Mrs. Bartley declared, "There is no time to waste, Miss Ward. Let us immediately to our chambers to prepare for the ball. Oh, I am so excited!"

"Can Mammi watch?" Mammi asked. "Please, Jen."

Frome, bless the man, looked at Jen. "Do you wish to attend, Miss Ward?" he said quietly.

It seemed to Jen that the whole room went still, waiting for the answer. Even the footmen who were clearing the sideboard stopped to listen.

Only one answer seemed possible, not just because the ladies would be so disappointed at a "no," but because Jen really wanted to see what it was like to be accepted. Just once . "Yes, Lord Frome. I would love you to escort me to Lady Beauchamp's ball. That is if you are certain she will not object?"

"Not," said Frome, with the arrogance that usually so annoyed her, "if you are on my arm, Miss Ward."

*

Frome was right. When they reached the reception line, Lady Beauchamp suppressed the questions that were seething in her eyes, and merely said, "Good evening, Miss Ward. So good of you to join us."

With time to wait before the first dance—which Frome had politely requested—he conducted her around the ballroom, introducing her to his friends. The reactions of some of them would have been demoralizing if Jen had actually cared. To be honest, she did care a bit, but the smart was reduced by Frome's indignation.

He even took up cudgels in her defense when Lady Laura Pinchbeck accosted them and attempted to turn an introduction to a cousin of hers into an opportunity to cut Jen off at the ankles. "Frome, how generous of you to be so charitable towards your grandmother's distant relative, but do you not think it unkind to take a person out of their place? Miss Ward would be more comfortable, I am certain, with shop owners and yeoman farmers, and that kind of person."

To which Frome replied, "Is that what you think, Lady Laura? I think I have been most remiss and have given my friends a false impression of Miss Ward. She is a lady to her fingertips, and I am proud to be, in some sort, a cousin. Not too close a connection, thank goodness."

"Why, Frome," said Lady Laura, tapping Frome's forearm with her fan, "it almost sounds as if you have romantic feelings for Miss Ward."

"Lady Laura," replied Frome, "it would be none of your business if I did."

"Really, Frome!" declared the lady. "That is hardly the way to speak to a lady."

"Speaking of my cousin with disrespect is hardly the behavior of a lady," Frome replied.

Lady Laura flushed and fell back a step. "Well, I never."

The revolting malicious turnip .

Frome said to Jen, "Shall we continue, Miss Ward? I have other people I would like you to meet."

When the musicians began to play, Frome swept Jen into the dance. Aunt Eloisa had hired a dancing instructor, so Jen was not afraid of disgracing herself.

She had known the basic footwork since she was a small child, practicing with Mammi while the man she had known as Da played for them on the harmonica. She knew how to apply the steps in the cotillion, the country dance, and the reel. With the dancing instructor, she learned the basics of the quadrille and the waltz.

This dance was a country dance, and the first time she had danced it with an audience would be right now. Creeping fish feathers! She was afraid of disgracing herself!

But after the leading couple had called a few figures and she and Frome had successfully danced them, she began to relax and even to enjoy herself.

In the dance, each couple danced in a square with the couple next to them, but when they'd danced the pattern set by the lead, the couple at the head of the line danced to the end, so each set of four constantly changed. Some, Jen found, were focused on the dance. Some were welcoming and cheerful. Some turned up their noses. But all had to follow the figures, whether they wanted to dance with Jen or not.

She and Frome worked their way forward until it was their turn to dance down the line to the rear. Frome must have been waiting for them to be inconspicuous, for when the next top couple began heading to the rear, he hastily said to Jen, "I must tell you what happened today, Miss Ward. Will you allow me a second dance? The supper waltz?"

Jen agreed. She did not expect any other partners and was, in any case, dying to know what Frome was so pleased about. At that moment, the couple who had been dancing down the line arrived to take up the rear, and it was time to form a new square.

There would be three sets before the supper dance, and Jen expected to watch them from the sidelines, but Frome's attention must have been a signal to other gentlemen, for two of them were waiting with Mrs. Bartley to ask her to dance, so she had a partner for the next two sets.

The first was a quadrille, which gave little chance for conversation, but the gentleman seemed pleasant enough. Frome was dancing, too, and Jen found herself sneaking glances at him, and wondering what he thought of his current partner.

He was waiting with Mrs. Bartley when she returned to her chaperone. Three more sets were spoken for before the music started up again, and her next partner escorted her into the dance. The time passed quickly until Frome claimed her for the supper waltz.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Ward?" Frome asked.

"Very much," Jen told him. "It is just as Mammi described. I always wondered if they were true memories or something she read. If she was a debutante once, she must have been as popular as I am tonight, Frome. Thanks to you."

Frome's smile was warm. "It is a small return for your help. Jen—Miss Ward, I should say—I had my dishonest factor arrested, and I believe we are going to be able to recover at least half of what was stolen."

"That is wonderful news," Jen said, and then added, "You could call me Jen in private conversation."

"If you call me Worth," he replied. "In private, or when it is just family."

They spoke little for the rest of the dance and then joined a table of his friends for supper. The group accepted Jen with warmth, and she thoroughly enjoyed a lively conversation that ranged over ridiculous fashion trends, tax reform, court news, the spring planting, and what was happening in Europe.

Even if Worth's magic touch did not have a permanent effect, Jen would have this night to remember.