Suddenly, she saw Sister Mary Majella waving to her from a far booth. Her heart tightened. Ambrose was seated next to the nun, along with Miss Tilney and Mr Hawkins. His eyes caught and held hers across the room.
Her heart dropped to the floor. She felt her mouth go dry. Her conviction that she must avoid him at all costs and protect herself flew out the window. The conversation with Sister Mary Majella might as well have never occurred. It was always the same when she saw him again, even if they hadn’t been apart for long.
A wave of helplessness washed over her. How could she resist him?
Her feet dragged a little as she walked slowly to the table, even though she was very hungry. She wished she could just take a tray in her room and not socialise at all this evening. Holing herself up in the room for the duration of this stay might truly be the only way to keep her resolve, but the chances that she could do that were slim. The only way to do it would be to feign illness.
“There you are,” said Sister Mary Majella in a warm voice. “I have saved you a seat, child.” She patted a chair next to her, staring at Delia pointedly.
Delia suppressed a smile. It seemed the nun was trying to help her keep her resolve. She wouldn’t be sitting near Ambrose at all and be tempted by the power of his proximity to her. That was something.
She sat down, trying to avoid his gaze. Mr Giles joined them. Thankfully, a barmaid arrived to take their orders. There was general chat around the table until the food arrived. Delia felt Ambrose’s eyes on her for the entire meal. The room was filling up so that chatter filled the air so loudly that they had to raise their voices to be heard.
Suddenly, she heard the sweet sounds of a fiddle. A man had set up in a corner of the room playing old ballad tunes. Then another man produced a flute, joining him in the music. Delia smiled. She had heard the servants at Twickenham Hall singing some of these folk songs around the kitchen fire, and Minnie sometimes sang them as she worked.
“Ah, is that not grand?” said Mr Hawkins, his eyes sparkling. “A bit of music to enliven the evening on this dark, stormy night!”
“Indeed, it is,” said Miss Tilney, smiling. “Itisnice to have a singalong.”
Delia gazed around the room. The roaring fire and happy faces of the patrons, along with the music, produced a convivial atmosphere, especially with the knowledge that outside there was a storm raging around them. She felt snug and secure, as if she were wrapped in a warm blanket.
I never want this night to end, she thought abruptly. I want to stay like this forever.
The thought surprised her. This whole trip had been fraught with difficulty, trying to navigate this strange new world. But now, she seemed to have relaxed into it. The patrons of the inns no longer frightened her. In fact, she felt more at home here than in a grand drawing room with genteel people playing the pianoforte and harpsichord.
Mr Giles, who had gone to the bar, arrived back carrying a tray of whiskey glasses. He plonked it down in the middle of the table.
“For everyone,” he said, smiling. His eyes misted over. “These songs were some of my wife’s favourites. Would everyone have a drink with me in her memory?”
Delia stiffened. Shereallydidn’t like whiskey. But she picked up a glass, not wanting to refuse him. So did everyone else, even Miss Tilney, who sniffed the drink suspiciously.
“To Nell,” said Mr Giles, raising his glass. “And Sarah. God bless their souls.”
Everyone raised their glass, toasting the man’s lost wife and child. They all drank. Miss Tilney coughed a little bit. Two red dots appeared on her cheeks. Sister Mary Majella tossed her whiskey back in one gulp, slamming the glass on the table. Her eyes were sparkling. The men did the same.
Delia took a long gulp of the brown liquid, unable to drink it all down. She coughed as well. It tasted like the foulest medicine and felt like a trail of fire going down to her stomach. The music grew louder, and she felt her face flush, suddenly very hot indeed.
People were dancing now, twirling each other around the room. Other people were clapping and cheering them from the sidelines. Mr Giles turned to Sister Mary Majella.
“Would you care for a dance, Sister?” he said, raising his voice above the din.
A smile split across the nun’s face. “I thought you would never ask, Mr Giles!”
They stood up. The next minute the nun was hollering and kicking up her heels. Miss Tilney giggled behind her hand as she watched her. Mr Hawkins smiled at the schoolmistress.
“You are enjoying yourself, Miss Tilney,” he said, his smile broadening. “Would you care to dance as well?”
“Oh, no,” said Miss Tilney, sounding scandalised. “I could never….”
“Go on,” urged the large man. “It will not hurt you.” He winked at her. “I promise not to inform the board of the St Ignatius School for Young Ladies.”
Miss Tilney burst out laughing. “Indeed, I hope you do not, Mr Hawkins!” She hesitated. “Oh, very well. One night of frivolity will do no harm, as you say.”
The next minute they joined the dancers. The small space was getting very crowded. Delia was acutely aware that she was sitting alone with Ambrose. Their eyes locked.
“I suppose I should ask you to dance, Miss Parker,” he said slowly. “We do not want to look like the odd ones out, do we?”
Delia squirmed in her seat. “You do not have to do this, Ambrose. Really.”