Page 35 of A Victim, A Viscount, And Miss Mifford
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."
