Chapter Seven

Kitty

'Tis the dayof the ball!

Kitty sat up in bed while a maid drew the curtains and opened the shutters. Selina had promised to do her best to make it possible for H to attend the ball– but how would this be achieved? If he was not to be noticed, he would have to be in some sort of disguise– but Kitty would make it her business to find him. Even if he was disguised as a cook in the kitchen, she would seek him out– discreetly, of course.

Her spirits fell when she remembered what she had heard the previous night. Lord Steyne and Miss Steele were plotting something unpleasant, and that meant danger– for persons as yet unknown. Kitty should tell someone– but who? Her papa would not be out of bed before noon. He rarely rose in the morning if he had been immersed in one of his long nights of gambling and cards. Kitty bit her lip. If only her papa had possessed some good friends willing to steer him onto the right path and help him fight his bad habits– then he would not have these money worries, and life would be much easier. And her mama would be able to be treated by Doctor Jenkins again.

Kitty went downstairs and was soon joined at the breakfast table by Miss Steele.

"Good morning, Miss Steele."

"Good morning, Miss Kitty. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," Kitty lied. "And you?"

"I slept soundly the whole night through, thank you," Miss Steele said.

Another bare-faced lie! For had Miss Steele not been outside Kitty's window in the small hours, talking to Lord Steyne? But there was no point in challenging her.

"Would you mind passing the coffee pot?" Miss Steele asked.

"Of course I would not mind," Kitty said. "Allow me to pour."

Her hand trembled as the hot stream of fragrant liquid filled Miss Steele's cup. "Oh, sorry, there are some drops in the saucer."

"Pray do not concern yourself. You must be excited about going to the ball this evening and seeing Lord Steyne."

"I am excited about going to the ball tonight," Kitty agreed.

Suddenly, Kitty noticed that Miss Steele was wearing a new brooch– a very showy and somewhat inappropriate creation for the breakfast table. Where could she have found the money for that? Generally, in common with others in her situation, Miss Steele rarely had much money to fritter away on ornaments and trifles; spending a few pence on ribbons once in a while was the most Kitty had been aware of before.

The brooch could have been a present– or she could have been given it in payment for some sort of service. Did Lord Steyne have anything to do with this?

Miss Steele put her hand over her mouth and gave a genteel cough. "As your father is still asleep, I feel I should tell you that there is a doctor's visit for Mrs. Honeyfield planned this morning. This appointment is a generous gift from Lord Steyne."

That was quick!

"I knew Lord Steyne had offered to send a doctor for Mama," Kitty said, "but I am amazed 'tis so soon."

Miss Steele grimaced. "It seems that although the doctor is very popular and busy, he is nevertheless prepared to come at short notice, as Mrs. Honeyfield's case is urgent."

"But Mama seemed a little better yesterday, for she rose from her bed for a short while, and she enjoyed the book I was reading to her in the evening. Has she now taken a turn for the worse?"

"'Tis nothing to alarm you," Miss Steele said, "but you cannot be too careful at her age, especially when there is a weakness in the constitution."

It was true, Kitty's mama was no longer in the first flush of youth, and her constitution was not as strong as it had been. She had suffered from various complaints, mostly female in origin, for a number of years and frequently had to rest. And Mr. Honeyfield's obsession with gambling and the resultant loss of much of the family wealth had not aided Mrs. Honeyfield's recovery– quite the reverse, for nowadays she found it increasingly difficult to restore herself and spent much time in her bed.

But Doctor Jenkins had been very understanding and had helped Mrs. Honeyfield enormously. 'Twas such a pity he no longer attended her.

"And there is a weakness in her mind, too– the melancholy she suffers from," Miss Steele said. "She had been much afflicted recently and has told me she has had strange imaginings."

"Melancholy? Mama has never displayed signs of melancholy! She has borne her ill health with great fortitude and resolve– for the most part, at least. And these strange imaginings you mention. What are they?"

"Imaginings are when you see things that aren't there, Miss Kitty. You must have heard of them– even if only between the covers of one of your library books."

Miss Steele tried– unsuccessfully– to hide a smirk.

How dare she! Miss Steele's new paste and foil brooch twinkled on her bodice in the morning light. How unutterably vulgar!

"I have never heard Mama complain of imaginings or melancholy," Kitty said. "Doctor Jenkins never had cause to treat her for any such conditions."

"Excuse me, Miss Kitty," Mrs. Honeyfield's abigail said. "There is a gentleman in the hall wishing to see Mrs. Honeyfield; he says he is the new doctor."

"Ah, yes," Miss Steele said, rising to her feet. "Doctor Voss. We were expecting him. Please go upstairs to your mother, Kitty, and make sure she is ready to receive our visitor. I will bring him up when you are ready."

Kitty was so surprised by this development, and so used to automatically obeying Miss Steele, that she abandoned her toast and coffee and ran upstairs to her mother's bedchamber.

"Mama?" she said gently. "There is a doctor downstairs to see you. No, sadly not Doctor Jenkins, but a new doctor."

Kitty could hear Miss Steele and the doctor outside in the passage as they had already come upstairs. This was indeed speedy– and perchance a little inappropriate.

"Here is Doctor Voss," Miss Steele announced as the door was flung open.

A tall, gangly individual of middle years entered the bedchamber; his eyes darted furiously around the room, and he cracked his knuckles in a most disconcerting way. 'Twould be hard to imagine a person less like the family's trusted Doctor Jenkins, and Kitty felt alarmed.

"Thank you, Miss Kitty," Miss Steele said. "I will take it from here."

"Mama?" Kitty said.

"You go downstairs, my dear," Mrs. Honeyfield said. "I will be fine with Miss Steele and Doctor– what did you say your name was?"

"Doctor Voss– at your service, dear lady."

The doctor gave a deep, sycophantic bow and Kitty scuttled away. She would find her father this instant. Something was not right.

Her father lay flat on his back in the next room, snoring loudly, and it took Kitty a good ten minutes to rouse him and get any sense out of him.

"Everything is fine," he pronounced. "Doctor Voss sounds a good man. As long as I do not have to foot the bill, I am content. Oh, my poor head! I have such a megrim... I must rest."

There was no point in Kitty trying to tell her father about her concerns over the conversation beneath her window last night– he simply wasn't in the mood.

By the time Kitty went back to see her mama, Mrs. Honeyfield was alone.

"Doctor Voss has this minute left," she said. "A brief, introductory visit."

"How did it go? What did you think of him? He seemed a touch strange to me."

"I believe he is a little unusual, but I found him a sympathetic man. He asked all sorts of questions, and I answered him as truthfully as I could."

If only I had been in the room...

"He said the sleeping draughts Miss Steele has been giving me are exactly what I need, and he suggested I take them much more frequently, for they can do nothing but good."

"Did you ask him what was in the draughts?"

"Oh no! I would not dream of questioning a medical man. He is the expert– I am only the patient."

"If you are sure," Kitty said.

"I'm sure, my dear. And the doctor mentioned perhaps I should go away for a prolonged rest sometime, somewhere quiet. He has a private hospital not far from here where he can offer special treatments to his patients, and he has affected some miraculous cures."

"But this sounds expensive…" Kitty began.

"There is no need to worry. Miss Steele said Lord Steyne would be happy to foot the bill for whatever treatment Doctor Voss suggested. In fact, she said Lord Steyne was hoping that I would be sent away for treatment, as that is one of the best ways to recover without being a burden to your family. Is that not particularly kind and thoughtful of him?"

Kitty felt rather dubious about this, but her mama seemed very positive after the doctor's visit– and it was fair to say that when one loved someone as much as Kitty loved her mama, one could be overanxious. Kitty had little medical knowledge, and Doctor Voss must have trained for years to have built up a successful career in medicine. The man could not help his rather unusual appearance and manner– and as Kitty's mama had said, he was the expert.

Hopefully, all would turn out well. A rest cure in a hospital might be exactly what Mrs. Honeyfield needed. And the perfect time for her to go away for a few nights would be well after the Christmas festivities were out of the way– to help her get through the often-dismal month of February.

The abigail came into the room.

"Madam, a note has arrived for Miss Kitty– from the Templeton household,"

"It's from Selina," Kitty said. "I recognize her handwriting."

She unfolded the paper and read with delight that Selina would be calling for her at around 6:45 that evening with her parents and Edmund in the carriage. It was proposed they would all go to the ball together, if this was agreeable to Kitty.

"The ball!" Mrs. Honeyfield clapped her hands. "How exciting, my dear! You must make sure to come and see me once you're dressed up in your finery. And I have looked out a lovely necklace and a pretty mask for you to wear tonight. See, here!"

Mrs. Honeyfield reached out to the table beside her bed and picked up a double string of white beads with a pink cameo at the throat, and a delicate white and gold eye mask.

"I have them both ready for you. What do you think? They go together rather well. I wore them many years ago when I attended a ball in London with your papa."

"Thank you, Mama. They are perfect! But I wish you could come to the ball too."

"Is there a reply?" the abigail said. "The footman from the Templetons is waiting downstairs."

"Of course," Kitty said. "Please say that I will be delighted to see them here and I look forward to travelling with them."

"You are going in their carriage!" Mrs. Honeyfield said, once the abigail had left the room.

"A little comical, is it not?" Kitty said. "For 'tis but a short step down to the Upper Rooms from here– the end of the road, no more! Granted, a little further for the Templetons, but not much."

"Appearance is everything," Mrs. Honeyfield said. "'Tis better to be seen arriving by carriage rather than on foot. There will not be room for Miss Steele to travel with you, but I am sure she will enjoy walking down– she can join you outside the Upper Rooms."

There would be a few blissful moments without Miss Steele– a rare gift as far as Kitty was concerned.

"And I have to admit my dancing slippers will wear out less quickly if they do not get scuffed on the pavement," Kitty said.

"Dear Kitty! Ever practical." Mrs. Honeyfield said.

Kitty spent sometime in the afternoon lying on her bed with slices of cucumber over her eyes. Apparently this was very restorative and could result in fascinating, sparkling eyes which were impossible to resist. How Kitty hoped this would prove to be true...

Then she carefully applied Milk of Roses to her face. Kitty knew Selina would be doing the same, for it was generally agreed by all the young ladies of their acquaintance that this was the best treatment for the complexion.

Her ball dress was hanging ready on her wardrobe door– white silk and gauze, with gold braid and delicate pink flowers on the bodice. There was a headband with matching pink flowers, and her mama's double string of beads and dainty eye mask completed the outfit.

Kitty lay on her bed and breathed deeply, trying to relax. As long as Selina's plan worked out, she would see H this evening.

I wish H were here with me on my bed now... what bliss that would be.

She sat up and tried on her long white kid gloves, admiring the delicate frill. They were as soft as cream. Then she slipped on her white leather slippers and practised a few dance moves on the rug in her bedchamber, in the arms of an imaginary Henry.

What if he proposed tonight? What would that be like? Would Henry perhaps kiss her gently as he had in the Templetons' withdrawing room yesterday? Hopefully he would not hesitate this time, nor say that Kitty would be better off without someone like him, or suggest he was not the same man that left her to go to war all those months ago. These were disturbing thoughts– Kitty would have to face them sometime– but not now, not while she was resting before the ball. And not while the unknown enemy was still a danger.

Ah, imaginary Henry would press Kitty's hand to his heart and declare he loved her far beyond anything he could express, or could be envisaged by anyone in the whole history of the world. He would say that loving her had driven him almost to the point of insanity, such was the depth of his manly feelings. His whole being cried out to be joined with her for ever, and if she turned him down, he would be compelled to find the nearest cliff and fling himself over the edge as there would no longer be any purpose to his life...

No, this would not do. Kitty stopped swaying to the rhythm of the music in her head. This would definitely not be how Henry would propose! The very idea was ludicrously over the top and very un-Henry-like. True romance was unexpected and personal. Kitty would have to wait and see how– and if– it might unfold.

If I am lucky enough to have a proposal from Henry, I care not where or when it happens…it will be enough to know that he loves me and wants me to be his wife...

Dinner was a dull affair with Papa and Miss Steele at five o'clock. Kitty chased a piece of meat round her plate for a while, but was far too excited about the ball to be able to eat anything much, despite her papa exhorting her to build up her strength for dancing by stoking up with food.

"You should do as your father commands and eat a hearty meal," Miss Steele pronounced, "for it is a long time before supper in the Upper Rooms, and you want to have plenty of energy for socializing, do you not? You need to look your best with rosy cheeks for Lord..."

Kitty stopped listening.

Not this again! I do not care how I appear to Lord Steyne.

She would have welcomed the chance to talk to her papa about what she had overheard Lord Steyne and Miss Steele discussing, but Miss Steele was right there, and besides, Papa seemed more than usually morose and disgruntled today. He must have lost heavily at cards again last night.

At last the tedious meal was over, and Mr. Honeyfield retired to his study while Kitty escaped upstairs to dress for the ball.

The abigail was already in Kitty's bedchamber, ready to assist.

"Shall we do your hair first, Miss Kitty?"

"Thank you."

The abigail dipped a tortoiseshell comb into a little water, then tamed Kitty's curls, section by section. Finally, she coaxed her locks into shape with her fingers and secured the creation with the headband.

"Lord, Miss Kitty," the abigail said, "you have the easiest hair! Many maids of my acquaintance have to be busy with the papers and tongs for hours with their ladies to create the sort of curls that are natural to you."

"You do not think my hair is too much?" Kitty asked. "I worry sometimes it is a little wild and unruly. My friends at school sometimes teased me."

"I hope you took no notice! They must have been jealous. Now, shall I arrange a few tendrils round your face?"

"If you think it would suit me," Kitty said.

"I do. Here we go."

The abigail carefully took a few strands and wrapped them round her fingers to make light spirals.

"What do you think?"

Kitty looked in the mirror. Would Henry like the way she looked? Would he notice?

"I like it!" Kitty said. "Thank you."

"Now for your frock, and all the rest of the bits and pieces," the abigail said. "Here we are... ah! You look an absolute picture, Miss Kitty. You make sure you have a wonderful time this evening. Go and enjoy yourself. Oh, and do not forget to wear your lovely mask! Here. I will help you tie it at the back. You look properly mysterious now!"

"Thank you," Kitty said. "I am very grateful for your help and feel like a real lady this evening. Now I must go and show Mama. I promised I would let her see me before I went to the ball."

Outside in the corridor, Miss Steele was going up the next flight of stairs to her room. Had she been in Mrs. Honeyfield's chamber?

"Mama!" Kitty whispered softy as she went into the room. "Here I am!"

But her mama was fast asleep, with the curtains already drawn for the night. Her plate of dinner lay untouched on a tray beside her bed.

"Miss Kitty!" the abigail called. "The Templetons have arrived!"

Kitty planted a soft kiss on her mama's forehead.

It is time to go to the ball! So why do I feel this sense of dread?

*

Henry

"John Greenwood!"

Henry looked behind him. Who were these men talking to?

"John Greenwood?"

Then he remembered. "Oh yes, that's me. I'm John Greenwood."

These days, it was quite hard to remember who you were meant to be. Henry pulled at his breeches, trying to lengthen them. He must look a complete chump.

"We need to get up to the gallery," a man holding a flute said. "Come on! I'll show you the way. Rehearsal starts in five minutes. I hope you're experienced with these sorts of events– we cannot put up with shoddy playing."

Henry raced after the man. He would have to play his very best to convince him that he was an adequate substitute. Inside the ballroom, servants were positioning chairs round the edge of the room and sweeping the dance floor.

"This way!"

Henry climbed the stairs to the musicians' gallery where another man was strumming a few cheerful chords on the pianoforte. Henry looked out over the balustrade. 'Twas strange to see the familiar room from a different perspective. The five magnificent crystal chandeliers ablaze with candles were even more amazing from this higher vantage point.

The pianist played the note "A" for the flautist and Henry to tune up, and Henry quickly opened his violin case, sending up a silent prayer that his playing would be good enough to pass muster.

"Take your hat off man, for God's sake!" the flautist said. "I can hardly see your face with that ridiculously old-fashioned headgear! And the mask– you didn't have to wear a full-face mask! Eyes only would've been sufficient, like ours. You look scruffy– and untrustworthy."

"Leave him alone," the pianist said. "You know what we've been told. He's sensitive about his smallpox scars– and missing hair. We needed someone at short notice. Beggars can't be choosers."

"Yes, indeed," Henry said. "And I can't abide anyone seeing my bald pate. Baldness runs in my family. 'Twas all very well for my father and my grandfather because they could put on a wig like everyone else, but these days everyone wants to display their natural hair. So sad."

The flautist began to play a soulful melody, and the pianist strummed a few minor chords.

"This could be our new piece," the pianist said. "We could play it tonight if you want– it's a lament for your missing hair."

"A melancholy hair, instead of a melancholy air?" the flautist suggested.

Henry joined in, improvising a full-throated mournful tune on his violin and throwing in some fake sobbing for good measure.

This broke the ice between the three musicians, and they indulged in some hearty laughing before settling down to practise the dance pieces.

"The Sussex Waltz," the pianist said. "We always start with this."

The three musicians rattled through the first line.

"That will do," the flautist said. "Don't want to exhaust ourselves."

"Or peak too early," the pianist said.

"What next?" Henry asked.

"Quadrille," the pianist said.

Barely two phrases were played before the pianist declared, "Enough! You're going to fit right in, John."

"What a relief!" the flautist said. "For a moment there I thought we might have to have a proper rehearsal."

"How about a drink before we start," the pianist said, producing a hip flask.

The flautist waved his own supply in the air.

"I'm afraid I haven't brought a flask," Henry murmured.

"Fret not," the flautist said. "You may share mine."

This was indeed true acceptance! And in such a short space of time. Music has many powers.

"Let's go outside," the pianist said. "We can wet our whistles– and see who's arriving for the ball."

Henry was grateful the other two musicians seemed friendly chaps, after an admittedly shaky start, particularly with the flautist. They hadn't asked too much about his weird disguise, and he had passed the musical test. Now they could all indulge in a stiff drink before they had to play at the ball.

Henry followed the men outside and stood by the colonnade in Bennett Street. People were arriving in carriages on both sides of the Upper Rooms. Others came in sedan chairs, and on foot, in excited chattering crowds.

"Here," the flautist said to Henry, passing his brandy over. "Have a swig– go on! You look as if you're gasping."

Henry unscrewed the top, held the flask to his lips, and tasted the sweet fruity liquor. A hint of oak too– just as there had been when the man...

"'Tis not bad standing here," the flautist said, wiping away Henry's curious recollection. "We can see all the young ladies arrive."

"Yes," the pianist said. "We usually give them a rating out of ten. What do you think of this one?"

Henry frowned. He wasn't keen to play this sort of game, but he did not want his cover to be blown by making a reasoned argument about why they should not treat women as objects in the way farmers rate cattle in the market. Therefore, he wisely decided to keep quiet, merely nodding as a parade of young ladies walked past.

"Five for that one," the flautist said. "Look at her complexion!"

"Seven out of ten for the next," the pianist said. "Nice figure– but too tall."

"Can't abide tall women," the flautist said. "Shouldn't be allowed. Oh, there's an eight. Spoilt by frizzy hair."

"Six for the next," the pianist said. "Looks too sharp and clever for her own good."

Hell and damnation! Who gave these knuckleheads the right to be judge and jury? And it wasn't as if either of them were the answer to a maiden's prayer.

Another carriage arrived in Bennett Street– one Henry recognized– and he moved back slightly, taking shelter in the curve of a pillar.

"Ten! Very tasty," the flautist said.

He was talking about Selina! And now Kitty was getting out. She looked stunning– and her hair was a little differently styled too, with spirals framing her lovely face.

"Top marks for her friend! Another ten! Whoa! Those beautiful dark curls!" the pianist said.

"If I could give an eleven, I would!" the pianist said. "I can see a pair of fine blue eyes, despite the glittering mask. If only she were mine..."

The flautist gave a coarse laugh and took a swig of brandy from his hip flask. "Wouldn't she be something to wake up to in the morning?"

Henry ground his teeth. Kitty was his! Or would be, once he had summoned up the courage to declare himself. Once he had finally rid himself of the feeling she would be better off without him...

"I am not sure about this lady, though," the pianist said as Miss Steele hastened to join the Templeton's party.

"Indeed! Look at her brooch," the flautist said. "Far too large! Tawdry."

"Yes, 'tis definitely over sparkly. Perhaps she is not quite a lady?"

"Kitty!" Miss Steele pulled the skirt of Kitty's dress straight. "You want to look your best for Lord Steyne, don't you?"

"Ah! She's a lady's companion," the pianist said. "And I pity that pretty young lady if Lord Steyne's after her. No good will come of it."

Henry felt a boiling rage building up inside him. How dare these two jackasses talk about Kitty? And was she in danger? He wanted to throw off his wretched hat and mask and declare to the world that Kitty was his. Changed man or not, he and Kitty were the perfect match– was that not what Carter had said so recently?

But if he made a scene now, it would ruin everything. No, he had to play the long game.

"Shouldn't we be getting back?" Henry said. "If the guests are arriving, we'll be playing soon."

"Quite right," the pianist said, and the three of them raced back to the musicians' gallery.

"Time for the Sussex Waltz," the flautist said.

"Want another ‘A?'" the pianist asked.

"Thank you," Henry said as he checked the tuning of his violin.

As the dances followed one another in quick succession, and more and more revellers took to the floor, Henry made every effort to keep his hat and mask in place and play the right notes. He also tried to look down at the dance floor to see where Kitty was– and with whom she might be dancing. If he could also avoid his borrowed jacket splitting across the shoulders while he played, 'twould be a bonus.

Hopefully Lord Steyne would be too busy in the card room to pester Kitty as a dance partner. Interestingly, Carter had said he'd heard Lord Steyne was leading Mr. Honeyfield into bad ways, encouraging him to gamble for large sums he could not afford at the gaming tables many nights a week. Henry resolved to warn Kitty about this. There were apparently rumours that Lord Steyne cheated at cards– he was certainly staggeringly successful and, according to Carter, that meant he was cheating, for no man could win every time as he did and not be practicing some kind of deception, surely?

Then there were all the young men on the dance floor to be concerned about, many of whom Henry recognized as friends and acquaintances. Were they like Henry's fellow musicians? Did they rank ladies by their assets and regard them primarily as potential bedfellows, nothing more than pieces of flesh? While Henry fully appreciated Kitty's alluring physical beauty, he was not going to have anyone ogling her or pawing her in a slow waltz. That was not on!

No! Kitty was Henry's, and Henry's alone– he loved her for her beauty of character, mind, and spirit, as much as for her physical beauty. Henry felt his courage growing– he would declare himself very soon, as Carter had advised, not just kiss her as he had yesterday then blather on about how he wasn't the man she used to know. She must be thoroughly confused and disappointed with his behaviour– as he was himself.

At one point Henry felt himself being observed. He looked down– straight into the eyes of Selina, who was mightily amused. Henry attempted a little wave with his elbow while he was playing, which caused a slight hiatus in the melody– and resulted in the worrying sound of a stitch ripping in the jacket. Selina continued dancing, shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Next piece, John!" the flautist said. "You've not put the right piece of music on your stand yet. Concentrate!"

"What is it?" Henry said.

"The quadrille."

This was one of Henry's favourite dances, and as he played the lively melody his feet shuffled and tapped. Now, if he were down on the dance floor with Kitty– what fun they would have! And then, in a quiet moment in the tea room later, he could whisper in her ear what he felt.

I long to declare myself, dearest Kitty– and I long for you to be mine!

*

Kitty

What a treat to be collected by carriage and taken down the length of Russell Street– which admittedly was a very short journey. Miss Steele seemed a little put out that there was no room for her in the carriage, and she set off at a brisk walk, only arriving a minute or so after the Templetons and Kitty. There were great crowds of people making their way into the Upper Rooms and quite a lot of people standing about near the entrance, including some characters dressed in matching jackets by the colonnade.

The ballroom looked as glorious as it always did, the candlelight softening the pale icy blue walls.

Selina pointed out some of the details of the decorative plaster work on the walls and pillars to Kitty, but sad to say, it was all rather a blur.

"You need spectacles," Selina said.

"What's this?" Lady Templeton said. "Can you not see, dear Kitty?"

"My sight is merely a little fuzzy," Kitty said, "more than it used to be. Possibly I have been reading too much."

"Ah," Lady Templeton said, "I did notice you rubbed your eyes a little when you were playing the pianoforte yesterday and had to sit very close to the music. 'Tis a problem that is easily remedied! Spectacles are needed. Not all the time, but just put them on when there's something particular you want to see in the distance, and of course for reading, and it will help you greatly, my dear."

Kitty had nothing to say to this. She knew her mama would not wish her to be seen in spectacles. The other problem, the ever-present obstacle, was her papa's lack of money.

Lady Templeton rummaged in her reticule and pulled out a quizzing glass. "For now, try this. Even if you had spectacles, they would not be of much use this evening, because you have your mask on, as do we all, but a quizzing glass is an excellent accessory at a ball for those of us whose eyes need a little help. I have two such items in my reticule, and you would be doing me a favour if you accepted one, for Selina is always telling me I carry too much in my reticule. Are you not, Selina?"

"Am I, Mama?" Selina said. "Oh, oh, yes, I remember now."

Kitty held the glass up to one eye. Suddenly, she could see the delicate mouldings and filigree decorations with crystal clarity.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "I had quite forgotten all this detail. All so fine!"

"This quizzing glass will not be the correct prescription for you," Lady Templeton said. "We can get a much better one for you if I take you to see an optician."

"But . . . but . . ." Kitty said.

"'Tis my treat for you," Lady Templeton said. "Christmas is on its way, and I can think of no better present for you, my dear."

This was not the first time Lady Templeton had shown her generosity to Kitty since Mr. Honeyfield had become short of funds. She was an extremely kind and thoughtful lady, and always tried to make the gifts of a very practical nature.

"And I will get them to make you a pair of spectacles too, which I hope you will find useful."

"Thank you so much, Lady Templeton, but I simply cannot accept."

"Hush! You will accept. And no need to say another word. I will make an appointment for you very soon and accompany you to the optician in Milsom Street."

What could Kitty do but accept graciously and thank Lady Templeton profusely?

And even though the quizzing glass was not the perfect prescription, it would be useful for trying to find out exactly where Henry was.

Lady Templeton gave a beaming smile. "I am going to sit down at the side with Lord Templeton– I see some of our friends over there– and we will have a chat and enjoy watching you two young ladies dancing. Look! There are already hordes of men looking as if they are going to request the pleasure of a dance. Your duty is to enjoy yourselves! This way, Miss Steele. You shall sit over there with the other companions and chaperones."

Kitty and Selina were certainly not short of dance partners. Some trod on their feet– one lumbering individual even fell over– while others danced with grace and agility.

But none of them are Henry– how I long to be in his arms!

A few of Kitty's companions made witty entertaining remarks– but others droned on about horses and the size of their houses in the country.

"The size of the estates seems to be in inverse proportion to the size of their brains," Kitty whispered to Selina as she passed her in a reel.

And how much Kitty enjoyed the music! Most of it was already known to her. In fact, she felt there was something extraordinarily recognizable about the melodies played by the violin this evening. Had she heard this musician at a previous ball? Or was he perchance playing one of the tunes she used to play on the pianoforte when she had accompanied Henry on his violin years ago? Ah, those had been sweet times indeed, when they had made music together.

"Ladies," Edmund said, "there is to be a short break in the music– a chance to go to the tea room for refreshment. What d'you say? Shall I accompany you both?"

He held out an elbow to his sister and to Kitty. "Papa and Mama are already there."

"Should I wait for Miss Steele?" Kitty said.

"Maybe," Edmund said. "Or at least we should tell her where you are going."

"But where is she?" Kitty said, screwing up her eyes. "How strange! She was sitting over there with some of the other companions– but now I cannot see her."

"She is definitely not there," Edmund said, looking in the same direction as Kitty.

"I thought I saw her setting off towards the Octagon card room earlier," Selina said, "when we were dancing."

"Never mind," Edmund said. "We will do our own thing. Miss Steele knows you're fine with me. I am the perfect chaperone."

The tea room was even more crowded than the ballroom, and it was a while before Edmund managed to bring cooling glasses of lemonade for Selina and Kitty.

"Oh look," Selina said. "I do believe, yes, the musicians are coming in here for a break as well."

Kitty peered in the general direction that Selina was pointing and then decided to whip out her quizzing glass. "Ah! The group of men who were standing next to the colonnade when we came in."

Goodness! Now Kitty could see better, she could recognize the distinctive hat from the dressing up box in the Templetons' house. But what a strange full-face mask the individual was wearing! And the figure himself... what was it about him? He was wearing a pair of breeches that were a little too short and strangely cut, but she would recognize those shapely thighs and calves anywhere. Henry! Now she understood why the violin playing had a familiar tang– for Henry had a special way of pulling back the last few notes of a phrase, to extract every last ounce of emotion.

The figure nodded to her, beckoned, then slowly walked away.

'Tis Henry, for sure! I will follow him– we will have our time alone... my sweet Henry, returned from the dead after so long. Changed by the cruelty of what he has experienced, yes, but in essence the same man I have adored since childhood... he tried to explain before but I was not listening...

"I must away to the ladies' retiring room," Kitty said to Selina, "but will be back directly."

"I'll come with you," Selina said. "Let me put our drinks down first."

Once the two young ladies were outside the tea room, Selina said, "Quick! Go after Henry now and snatch a few minutes together. If Miss Steele or anyone else asks where you are, I will cover for you."

"Thank you, dearest Selina. Henry and I must talk– we have much to resolve, and this opportunity is truly heaven sent."

Ah! How I ache to be with my love– and to remove his ridiculous hat and mask so that I can kiss him.