‘I heard Miss Earle tell you she is being sent to Bath because she did not “take” at her last Season,’ said Hannah. ‘I find that most strange. She is a great heiress and has an openness and liveliness of mind I find enchanting.’
‘I did not think great heiresses ever remained unwed,’ said the marquess.
‘Miss Earle had several offers, but her aunt and uncle, who strike me as rather pushing sorts of people, were hanging out for a title.’
‘If her aunt and uncle are indeed very wealthy, why do they send her on the stage? Miss Earle did say they did not possess their own carriage.’
‘Do you know, I really think she was being mischievous when she said that. I happen to know that to be untrue. She arrived at the coaching inn in a very fine equipage.’
‘I cannot see why she should choose to lie.’
Hannah pulled her nose in embarrassment. The answer was that she felt sure Belinda had pretended to be on a social level with, say, the Judds in order to tease the Jordans.
She smiled at the marquess instead and turned to Sir Henry, who was on her other side. ‘I do hope Miss Wimple, Miss Earle’s companion, recovers soon so that we may continue our journey,’ said Hannah.
Sir Henry maintained a stony silence.
The marquess’s voice sounded sharp and clear. ‘Miss Pym has just said something to you, Sir Henry. Are you become deaf? Would you like me to repeat it for you?’
Sir Henry looked startled and then rallied. ‘Wits were wandering. Fact is, Miss Pym, I don’t know Miss Wimple, so it follows that I do not have any interest in her welfare.’
The marquess’s silvery-grey eyes shone with a frosty light. Good heavens, thought Penelope, this Miss Pym is outmanoeuvring us. Somehow, she is cleverly managing to make poor Papa look vulgar and unfeeling. Frenton obviously expects us to be civil to these commoners. What an odd fancy! But if I do not play my cards aright, he will take me in dislike as well.
She turned to Mrs Judd and said gently, ‘I fear you must be feeling fatigued after your experience. How shocking for you. You must have feared for your life.’
Mrs Judd blushed at the sudden attention and said in a faint voice that she was feeling overset. Hannah shrewdly judged that the gamecock on her plate with which Mrs Judd was struggling was upsetting her more than her dousing in the river. It showed a tendency to skid across her plate as she strove to a cut a piece from it.
‘Would you be so good,’ said Hannah to the marquess, ‘as to ask your butler to carve the gamecock for us ladies. I fear we lack the dexterity to tackle it ourselves.’
The marquess called the butler forward and Mrs Judd flashed Hannah a grateful look as the bird was removed and then brought back to her, carved into manageable pieces. But the peas were another matter. Attacking peas with a two-pronged fork was a difficult job at the best of times. She decided to leave them alone.
The marquess apologized for the scanty fare, saying it was only a light supper as they had already had dinner, but urged them all to order anything else they wished. Unlike Belinda and Hannah, who knew to take only a little of what was offered, the Judds had filled their plates at each course and now felt they had never eaten such huge quantities of food.
Finally the cover was removed and nuts and fruit were placed on the table, along with a trolley on wheels that contained decanters of madeira, canary, port and brandy. The trolley was in the shape of a sailing ship with silver sails and gold rigging. Belinda glanced about the room – at the elegance of the Adam fireplace, the Aubusson carpet, the paintings of still life, the green-and-gold damask curtains at the windows and at the sage-green silk-upholstered dining-chairs – and then back at that sailing ship. It seemed out of place, a vulgar piece of nonsense, a rich man’s toy.
‘Glad to see you’ve put it to use, Frenton,’ said Sir Henry expansively, indicating the trolley.
‘It was a most generous present,’ murmured the marquess.
There were many wax candles burning in the room and wax candles on the dining-table. The marquess was half turned away from Belinda, talking to Hannah. Belinda noticed that his white-powdered hair showed glints of red in the light and felt strangely reassured. Red hair was very unfashionable and she was glad to find there was something human and unfashionable about this rather intimidating man.
As if conscious of her gaze, he turned abruptly and found her staring at his hair. ‘Is anything the matter?’ he demanded sharply.
Belinda was too tired to do other than tell the truth. To Hannah’s dismay, she heard Belinda reply, ‘It’s your hair. It is red.’
‘If you mean my hair is not sufficiently powdered, then say so,’ snapped the marquess.
‘It is not that,’ said Belinda, wandering deeper into the thicket of bad social behaviour. ‘Red, don’t you see. Such an unfashionable colour.’
His lips tightened in disapproval as he turned back to Hannah.
Now Belinda wished this interminable supper would end. Her ankle had begun to ache again. She looked hopefully towards Lady Jordan, whose duty it was, surely, to rise to her feet and lead the ladies back to the Cedar Room and leave the gentlemen to their wine.
But it was the marquess who suggested they repair to the Cedar Rooni, and so they all rose together. The marquess led the way with Penelope on his arm, Sir Henry and Lady Jordan followed, then Hannah and Belinda, with the Judds bringing up the rear.
The confidence she had experienced during the earlier part of the meal deserted Belinda. She felt plain and gauche. Somehow, it was the Jordans’ bad behaviour that had given her courage. But now Penelope was being gracious to the Judds, and her parents, who seemed to take their lead from their beautiful daughter, were following her example. As Penelope noticed Belinda’s crushed mien, so her graciousness and courtesy grew. She begged Mr Judd to entertain them if he was not too tired, and Mr Judd, flushed with all this exalted attention, gladly agreed. He walked to a pianoforte that stood against the far wall and, flexing his hands like a concert pianist, sat down and began to play. Belinda had expected him to play a virtuoso piece in an effort to impress, but he played a selection of sentimental ballads and then he began to sing. So that’s what the attraction is, thought Hannah, looking at Mrs Judd’s radiant face. Mr Judd played beautifully and had a rich tenor voice.
Belinda listened enthralled, resting her chin on her hand, her eyes dreamy. Gone was her recent unease and depression. She had dreamt before only of freedom, freedom to live her own life, freedom from marriage. But as the liquid, sentimental music coiled around her, she dreamt for almost the first time of a lover, a merry man full of laughter who would be a companion on her travels.
Penelope, who was tone-deaf, sat like a classical statue with her mouth in the same little curved smile and her eyes as blank.
The marquess leaned back in an armchair and stretched out his buckled shoes to the blaze. He looked with admiration at Penelope, at the lines of her body, at the proud set of her head, and then, almost despite himself, his gaze was drawn to Belinda.
Her eyes were full of dreams, and her wispy, baby-fine hair gave her an elfin look. That splendidly passionate mouth of hers was in repose, just waiting for a kiss …
He gave himself a mental shake. The evening had turned out very pleasant after all. Judd was a superb performer. Penelope was behaving just as she ought. Mrs Judd looked happy and at ease for the first time. She was a dainty little thing, thought the marquess, despite her unfashionable gown. Her fair hair was dressed in ringlets and her wide eyes were pale blue and her skin was fine and delicate. When Mr Judd ceased playing for a moment, the marquess asked her, ‘Do you sing as well, Mrs Judd? It would give me great pleasure to hear you.’