‘Oh yes, but she has had little experience of housekeeping, you know, and I fancy Sir Joshua is hard to please. She has been particularly anxious that he should not disapprove of anything tonight.’
‘Has she? Has she indeed?’ Dido hesitated just inside the room, her hand still upon the french door. ‘Flora do you know what it is, exactly, that she is worried about?’
‘Oh, she is worried about everything! She is worried about the professional harpist she has engaged – whether he will play well enough. And she cannot determine which amateur performers should be asked to play upon the pianoforte. And then, you know, there is the supper and which room it should be set out in. And she is very worried about what she will wear herself; she thinks Sir Joshua will not approve her appearance…’
‘She is worried about her own appearance?’ cried Dido. ‘Flora, are you quite sure of that? I think this may be very important. Can you remember what she said about it?’
‘I hardly remember… She said something about a white and green silk gown – that she ought to wear it, but that Sir Joshua would think her appearance odd if she did… Dido what is it? What have I said?’
Dido had changed. Her hand was upon her mouth; she was thinking rapidly. ‘Did Lady Carrisbrook reply to your note?’ she said at last.
‘Yes, she did. She said…’
‘May I see her reply?’
Flora looked puzzled, but went to her writing desk and returned with a little sheet of hot-pressed paper. Dido seized it and looked it over so rapidly that it seemed impossible she could have understood its contents. But all at once she had become quite certain of what she should do next. Her face was alight and she moved purposefully across the room. ‘Flora,’ she said with great determination, ‘we must go to the party at Brooke after all.’
‘But, we will be late! – and it will be the rudest thing imaginable to go there now when I have said we cannot come.’
‘Do not worry. I am quite sure Lady Carrisbrook will forgive us – when I return her property to her.’ And she picked up Mr Lansdale’s parcel and slipped it into her reticule before hurrying away to dress.
Chapter Thirty-One
They were not so very late arriving at Brooke after all, for, such was Flora’s horror of incivility that she insisted upon sending to the inn for fresh horses before they started and was most urgent in her instructions to the coachman.
It was not quite nine o’clock as they approached the house and the first, faltering strains of a harp were but just beginning. Candles in paper lanterns were hung along the terrace showing up the dark yew trees and the fine black and white front of the old house. The door and all the windows were thrown open so that the guests strolling about outside might enjoy the music coming from the drawing room.
‘It looks very pretty, does it not?’ said Flora as they hurried up the steps. ‘Maria has been at a great deal of trouble, I am sure.’
‘Yes.’ Dido paused, looking up at the handsome Tudor house brought to life with light and music, and judging it no bad representation of the marriage which had lately taken place here: of the bright, pretty young wife come to adorn the life of a solid, ageing widower. ‘I hope,’ she said, ‘that her cares will not be thrown away.’ Then another thought seized her. ‘Flora,’ she said, taking hold of her cousin’s arm. ‘Do you know if Mr Lansdale is to be here this evening?’
‘No,’ said Flora. ‘I do not believe he was invited. Maria did not seem to want…’
‘That is well,’ cried Dido. ‘I am glad he is not here. That at least is one thing she need not worry over.’
Flora demanded to know what she meant, but Dido only smiled and hurried on up the steps and into the house.
Within, everything was very brightly lighted up and the warm air was sweet with the scents of rosewater and of beeswax polish and of hot-house lilies in great arrangements covering every table. Extra chairs had been set out in the oak-panelled drawing room and it was thronged with an elegant company of maybe twenty ladies and gentlemen, all listening to the harp; others had spilt out of the open door into the hall to work away vigorously with their fans and chat while politely inclining one ear in the direction of the music; and, in the library, a little party of gentlemen, who did not even pretend to musical taste, were comfortably settled with wine and cards.
It took several minutes for Dido to discern her host through the crowd but, at last, she saw him standing by the fireplace in the drawing room. His hands were clasped behind his back and his face confirmed all her apprehensions. His eyes were fixed upon the musician as they ought to be, but his cheeks were dark red and his brows drawn up into such a scowl as showed him to be as dissatisfied with everything around him as his poor wife had feared.
Flora saw him too and she was just beginning upon a whispered remark when their hostess came hurrying into the hall to greet them.
Lady Carrisbrook was lovelier than ever in white and green silk with emeralds glinting in her ears; and she was quite delighted that they were come – it was just exactly what she had wished for to make her own pleasure in the evening complete. Come, she would find them seats close to the musicians. No, no, they must not say another word about being late – that did not signify at all! And as for the note which had said they would not come – well, the disappointment it had caused only made her present pleasure the greater, did it not?
There was no resisting such delightful manners in so very pretty a woman. In spite of everything, Dido felt flattered and at ease with herself. And she could only wonder more at the husband who, just now catching his wife’s eye, scowled at her so darkly, the poor woman’s smile faltered.
‘Lady Carrisbrook,’ she said quietly, laying a hand upon her arm. ‘I wonder if I might speak with you a moment – alone.’
Her ladyship looked troubled. ‘I regret that I am rather occupied with my guests, Miss Kent…’
‘I wish,’ Dido whispered, ‘to return something which I believe belongs to you.’
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘I have something which I believe you have lost.’ As she spoke, Dido raised one finger and just touched her own throat.
The effect upon the lady was immediate. Her hand also flew to her own throat – which was quite bare of jewels. ‘I see,’ she stammered and looked about her anxiously to be sure no one had overheard. ‘That is very…kind of you, Miss Kent. Will you perhaps come this way with me.’ She linked arms with Dido and, with a hurried apology to Flora, was just turning away to the screen passage at the back of the hall when another figure appeared at the door of the drawing room.
Mr William Lomax was making his bow and smiling as he greeted them. Never before had he looked more kindly – or more handsome. And never before had Dido been so very sorry to see him!
‘Miss Kent,’ he cried, ‘it is a particular pleasure to see you here. For, something Lady Carrisbrook said made me fear that you had too much business on hand to spare time for your friends! I am very glad to discover that that is not the case after all.’ And he really did seem remarkably well pleased. Flora’s note had, no doubt, alerted him to the fact that she was still pursuing her mystery; but now, seeing her at Brooke, he believed that she had abandoned it – that she had complied with his wishes. There was something very particular in his manner – both Flora and Maria Carrisbrook were regarding him and Dido with smiling suspicion.
‘Will you allow me to show you and your cousin to your seats?’ he said, bowing again with mock formality and holding out an arm to each.