Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Arabella felt relief at being able to sit down at the table. Her legs felt weak, and the butterflies in her stomach were twirling and whirling, making it difficult to concentrate.

As soon as she had entered the drawing room and seen the duke, she had felt a heightened awareness of everything around her. Voices seemed louder one moment and fainter the next. The floor almost seemed to be moving as she walked across the room, smiling at her cousin and maintaining her composure.

Thank goodness that all ladies need to do at social events is to smile and nod with interest. I am struggling to listen to anything the duke says to me. This is most unlike me.

It was still sinking in that the handsome stranger who had fallen off his horse in the woods was the Duke of Montbury. Whenever they met, there always seemed to be a moment when they made eye contact and struggled to break the connection and look away. This evening in the drawing room, she was surprised that no one had noticed. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered that moment.

This attentive, interesting gentleman sitting beside her had no resemblance to the angry rider thrown from his horse in the lane.

Arabella decided to enjoy this evening. She had escaped from Farrington Hall and evaded her cousin. She was with a family who loved her, sitting next to a handsome duke who showed every sign of being interested in her conversation. After two years of continual anxiety, she was going to enjoy this evening of pleasant company. Aunt Grace had even mentioned the possibility of impromptu dancing or singing if the evening went well.

Sir Joseph was seated at the head of the table, with Elinor on one side and herself on the other. Nathaniel was seated next to Elinor and the duke at Arabella's side.

"I always look forward to this time of year," said Sir Joseph. "We have quite a number of social events for such a small community."

"It always feels like summer hasn't arrived until we have the summer fair," said Elinor. "You're right, Sir Joseph, it's one of my favourite events of the year."

"I didn't know there was a summer fair," said Arabella. "Tell me about it."

While they discussed the summer social calendar, the first course of white soup was served. Arabella savoured the flavour of almonds, stock, and cream.

"The village is transformed," said Elinor. "It has its roots back in medieval days. I believe there used to be a travelling fair, but these days every stall is run by a local shop or family. It's quite a sight."

"I used to love the pony cart rides as a child. It's one of my first memories," said the duke.

Arabella hardly noticed the plates being changed as she listened to stories about the Montbury Fair.

The footmen served mutton with haricot beans, steaming hot from the kitchen, and the side dish of asparagus from the Horton garden was a meal in itself.

By the time pot pies were placed down the middle of the table, Arabella was sure she couldn't eat another bite. A mixture of carrots, swedes, and leeks, covered by white sauce, and swathed in pastry.

"When is the fair this year?" she asked

"It's early this year, in two weeks' time," said Elinor.

"Will you still be here for the fair, Your Lordship? asked Sir Joseph.

"Unlikely," the duke muttered before retreating into silence.

Something about her dinner partner's body language alerted Arabella to a change. His relaxed manner was gone, and he was clearly uneasy.

He's hiding something, she thought. Maybe he thinks attending a village fair is beneath him. But it sounds like he has fond memories of the event. There's something more to it.

I seem to remember Aunt Grace telling me that the Duchess of Montbury always hosts a house party around the same time as the village fair. Maybe he is too busy at the castle to mingle with the villagers. I just don't get that impression. I'll ask her what she thinks when I get the chance.

The final course of simple lemon syllabub was welcome and cut through the heaviness of the pot pie. The tart's light, reviving texture melted on her tongue.

The conversation then moved on to the plan for the two boys to be tutored together.

"I'm looking forward to getting started," said Nathaniel. "They're both good boys and will learn well together."

"What will you teach them?" asked Elinor.

"I thought a project on the local woods and the lake. It will keep them interested as we can do lots of field trips. However, I plan to bring in arithmetic, and classical myths and legends. So many classical myths are set in forests, streams, or lakes."

"They will be able to write their own stories too," said Arabella, liking what she heard of the parson's plans.

"And poetry, too," she added, hoping her son might eventually share her own love of poetry.

Aunt Grace interrupted the flow of conversation. "Now, ladies, it's time for us to withdraw and leave the gentlemen to their madeira wine and conversation."

Aunt Grace led them to the drawing room where several footmen were rearranging chairs to create a dance space.

"Are we dancing, Mama?" asked Emma.

"I think we could have a few reels when the gentlemen join us," said Aunt Grace.

"And singing?" said Emma.

"Perhaps, my dear. Let's see how it goes."

"Will you dance, Arabella?" queried Emma, turning to look at her.

"No, dear. I haven't danced since I was widowed," Arabella replied.

"Now, my dear niece. I don't like to tell you what to do, but I'm convinced Edward would have wanted you to have some fun in life. Would he expect you to sit in a corner as if you still wore widow's weeds?"

She thought of Edward's words that last night and knew her aunt was right. She sighed, "You're right, Aunt. I'm probably just avoiding that step back into society. I'm so used to being prim about everything in case Christopher Farrington finds something to criticize."

"Well, you are in my home, amongst friends and family. And … I need you to make up numbers if we are to dance the Barley Mow and a Scottish reel this evening. I have an ulterior motive."

When the gentlemen joined them, the mood became light and lively, and Aunt Grace began to play on the pianoforte. Soon the reverend Nathaniel had taken Emma in his arms and was spinning her around the room. Elinor and her mother agreed to dance with Sir Crosby and his son Ned, whom they had been talking to earlier. Aunt Grace whispered something in her husband's ear, and a few moments later, her uncle stood by her side.

"I'm under orders, niece, and your aunt will not take no for an answer," Sir Joseph explained with a broad smile.

And so she returned to dancing, after more than two years, in the caring arms of her Uncle Joseph. The familiar tune of the Barley Mow had her feet soon tapping in the joy of the rhythm of the steps. As the music drew to a close, she surprised her uncle by giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek to express her thanks.

Emma and Nathaniel had reluctantly parted, as they could not dance together all evening without provoking comment, even in such a small gathering. Uncle Joseph went to dance with the dowager duchess, and Arabella found herself staring up into a pair of blue eyes, asking her to dance.

"I didn't expect to dance tonight," said Arabella

"I didn't expect my mother to offer to play the pianoforte for an impromptu dance. I have yet to see it happen, but there are lots of surprises tonight."

"I believe I am supposed to comment on the weather, but I am going to be honest and tell you that I have not danced for two years and need to concentrate on where I put my feet."

He laughed, eyes widening as he smiled. "I am confident we will not collide with the other couples dancing. And I'd rather you were silent and avoided treading on my toes."

"I shall do my best and have done my best to warn you of the danger."

"Very well, let's take a risk and step out onto the dance floor?"

Arabella nodded and almost jumped in surprise at the sensation that spread up her arm and through her body as the duke held her arm. She stood still for a moment, causing him to raise an eyebrow and look at her quizzically. She smiled back at him, stepping forward as he guided her into the dance.

He seemed a different person to the man who had berated her when he fell from his horse. She sensed he had a sense of humour, which somehow surprised her.

He was surprisingly adept as they danced the reel, elegantly circling around before crossing hands and spinning in a circle. Arabella was relieved that her feet remembered the steps, and she avoided treading on the duke's toes.

As the music faded away, he spoke close to her ear, "Let's stay for another dance. I seem to have escaped unscathed from that Scottish reel. You're a fine dancer, Lady Farrington; there was no need to worry."

"Why thank you, Your Grace. I'm just a little rusty."

"It sounds like the next dance is a local favourite. You'll easily follow the steps as it's based on a simple pavane."

The slower melody of the Yorkshire Lass gave her time to recover her breath. The duke held her close as they twirled to the slower, sad tune. At first, she felt comfortable in his arms, as if she had found a safe harbour, then as they dipped and glided in time to the music, his eyes met hers with an intensity that caused her to take a sharp inward breath. They moved apart, twirled, and returned to the centre. As he took her hands again, she felt a quivering sensation in her arms and legs.

How strange, she thought. It must be because I am not used to dancing.

Those eyes, like aquamarine pools glinting in the sunshine, caught and held hers, and she felt spellbound in his arms as the music faded and the dance ended,

Her uncle's voice rang out. "Keep your partners for our favourite country reel," he told them, and everyone stayed on the floor. This time, Arabella twirled around, feet flying off the ground, and almost collapsed in her partner's arms at the end of the set.

‘Until next time," he whispered in her ear so softly she thought she might have imagined his words.