Page 62 of The Book of Lost Stories
Mr Puncheon sprang up from his seat and wrung her hand, beaming. ‘Thank you, thank you! I will be off and tell her directly.’
‘Do. And say that I will come and call on her shortly to wish her happy.’
When he had gone, the realization hit Alys that she had lost the future companionship of one who, even if she could not enter wholly into her interests, she was both fond of and at easewith. She could not live alone without losing her good name, but the prospect of employing some unknown female to live with her was daunting.
But Letty to marry! She must hastily revise her views of romantic love, for it had not before occurred to her that it might strike persons no longer in the first flush of youth, or even the second.
And she wondered whether it was too late to change the appearance of Sir Lemuel Grosby, villain ofDeath or Dishonour, to the dark, hawk-nosed likeness of the capricious Lord Rayven, who had beguiled her into liking him quite against her will, then tired of the sport. For, while she might not be able to organize her own life as she would wish, what was the point of being an author if your puppets did not dance to the tune you wished them to?
*
Alys was nervous as she set out for her very first ball, despite knowing that she looked her best in the sea-green silk gown and drapery of silver net that Nell had given her. And she thanked goodness that her advanced years meant she was not tied to the whites and pale tints of the debutantes, even if she was becoming tired of this particular shade of green.
Borrowed aquamarines adorned her neck and ears and sparkled in her chestnut hair, which had been brushed into a high knot of ringlets that made the most of her long neck and large grey eyes.
‘What if I forget the steps of a dance and tread on my partner’s feet?’ she said to Nell as they awaited Mr Rivers, who had deigned to escort them that night. ‘What if I have no partners at all?’
‘You will not forget the steps, for we have practised them enough, and of course you will have partners. Already Lord Rayven and Mr Hartwood have asked you, haven’t they?’
‘I think Lord Rayven has forgotten; he did not mention it last time I saw him.’
‘I am sure he has not and, in any case, you will scarce miss him, for you look so beautiful that you will be besieged by young men. And George will go straight to the card room, so for once, I too intend to dance and have fun,’ Nell declared. She was looking exceptionally pretty in lilac gauze draperies over a ball dress of white satin, her normally pale cheeks delicately flushed.
‘I hope you will not dance too often with Captain Stavely, if he is there,’ Alys said anxiously. ‘I am amazed at how gossip speeds around theton, and how it changes in the telling.’
George, who had been inserted into his tightly fitting coat with some difficulty by his long-suffering valet, at last came down the stairs, so she could say no more.
He was pale, and called for a glass of brandy before he left the house, but otherwise seemed to be in a reasonable humour, apart from impatiently drumming his fingers on the window frame as they awaited their turn to alight from the carriage.
They made their slow way up the crowded marble staircase to where their hosts awaited them and Alys grew conscious of many stares and whisperings behind fans that seemed to be directed at them, although she could not think why.
Mr Titus Hartwood was not there, and instead Nat took his place in the receiving line next to his mother. Bella was resplendent in a ball gown of pink gauze, with a wreath of silk rosebuds on her head, although her expression of delight atseeing their party was at strange variance with the triumphant look she shot at Alys when she thought herself unobserved.
‘Miss Weston,’ Mrs Hartwood said, the purple ostrich feathers on her turban head-dress nodding, ‘my brother-in-law particularly wished to speak to you as soon as you arrived. He is in the small withdrawing room over there, which has been set up for cards.’
‘Very well,’ Alys said, and, with a speaking glance at Nell, turned away from the double doorway into the crowded ballroom that glittered with a thousand reflected candles.
She found herself face to face with Lady Chibberly and her daughters. ‘Oh, good evening,’ she said with a smile, pleased to find some familiar faces and was disconcerted when that lady merely gave her a hard stare and a cool nod. ‘Come along, girls,’ she said, hurrying them quickly past her.
As Alys, puzzled, gazed after them, Sophia looked over her shoulder and winked at her, mouthing something, before she was swallowed up into the crowd. It looked like ‘Fly, all is discovered!’ But then, both the Misses Chibberly had a very strange sense of humour. It was what she most liked about them.
Her grandfather awaited her alone in the candlelit room, which had been set out for those who preferred to play cards rather than dance. His carrying chair was placed before one of the tables and he did not smile at her, as she had grown used to, but frowned ferociously.
‘Well, miss, come here where I can see you!’
She moved forward, the light shimmering on the silver of her dress. ‘Good evening, Grandfather. I trust your rheumatism is not too painful tonight?’
‘Never mind that,’ he said shortly. ‘What is this I hear of youbeing the author of some trumpery, sensational novels? Is the rumour true?’
Lady Chibberly’s reaction – even the whisperings and rude staring when they arrived – was explained. Alys faced him more calmly than she felt. ‘It is, but may I ask who told you of it? Was it Lord Rayven?’
She had thought first of George, but he had not seemed much interested in his discovery and besides, she could not see him rushing to lay the information before Mr Hartwood. But Lord Rayven was so very thick with her grandfather …
‘Never mind who was first with the news, for now, apparently, it is all around Town.’
‘I am sorry you should learn of it like this, for I meant to tell you myself, the next time I visited you. Not that I am in the least ashamed of it.’
‘You are not?’
