As if I care for luxury! thought Carolan, but she did realize that if she went to her parents in London, it would mean leaving Everard, and that most decidedly she did not want to do.
Carolan’s first ball dress was of green brocade trimmed with coffee-coloured lace. Its skirt was full and swept the floor; its bodice was rightly fitting and very dainty, falling from her shoulders, with tiny sleeves caught up with green ribbons. Her eyes matched the colour of her dress; and her hair, parted in the middle, hung in soft curls about her shoulders; it looked very natural and fashionable, unpowdered as it was, for powdering had gone out of fashion some four years before with the coming of the tax.
The squire had given her a dress; he had taken great pleasure in doing so. There was to be a ball, he whispered to her, and it was a great occasion Carolan’s first ball; she was to stop being a child when the old century ended and start her adult life with the new. The disreputable clothes in which she tore about the countryside were unsuitable for a young woman though they might do well enough for a child, so there must be a new dress and new slippers, and as the money for these was to come out of the squire’s purse, he hoped young Carrie was going to be suitably grateful. She was grateful; she gave him a kiss without being asked, which seemed to please him mightily.
Carolan, studying herself in her mirror, thought about the kiss she had given the squire. He still made her uneasy, as he had when she was a child. She could have liked him so much more but for his hearty caresses. He was kind to her. indeed more kind than he was to Margaret or Charles, which amazed her. He liked to ride with her, to take her round the estate, to make the cottagers curtsy to her. Queer man, but kind I Carolan bent her head and kissed her own white shoulder in an excess of excitement over this occasion of her first ball and the delight in herself dressed up in her first ball dress. Everard would be at the ball tonight. He had said: “Now, Carolan, I shall expect you to save plenty of dances for me!”
How beautiful was Everard! With his finely chiselled features and his courteous manners, he was aristocratic and gentle, elegant without being foppish; never really angry except on someone else’s behalf: never unkind. So calm he was, aloof, never excited by her as she was by him; she loved to sit on the wall between the Orlands’ house and the graveyard and listen to Everard’s talk of his future; and how he loved to talk! She twirled round ecstatically to glimpse at the back of her dress; she danced round the room and imagined she was dancing with Everard.
She came to an abrupt stop by falling against the old bureau in the corner; she was laughing at herself. Did everyone get ready too soon for their first ball?
She was so happy she had to dance. Indeed the last year had been the happiest of her life. In the bureau were letters from her mother; there were several which had come via Mrs. West over the last four years. Mamma was very happy in London; soon Carolan must join her and her father, but not yet; they were not quite ready … Ah, thought Carolan, let them enjoy their happiness without an intruder!
And she knew in her heart that she did not really want to join them; she was too happy here. It was true that the rough caresses of the squire sometimes perturbed her, and she understood him as little now as she had done when a child. But that was a small matter in the midst of such contentment, and Everard was the rock on which all this contentment was built. To go to London would mean to lose Everard; therefore she was glad when her mother wrote that they were not quite ready for her.
Life had changed for her. Everywhere it seemed good.
Charles, who was at Oxford now and home only occasionally, no longer tormented her. He scarcely seemed to notice her at all. Jennifer Jay had drunk too much gin one night last year, and had fallen from the top of a flight of stairs to the bottom; that was the end of Jennifer Jay. With Mrs. West and the servants she was a favourite, more so than Margaret, which surprised her, for Margaret was lovely to look at and the squire’s own daughter. But one of the deepest reasons for her contentment was Margaret’s sudden change of feeling towards Everard. Margaret had loved Everard a little while ago; now she was almost indifferent to him. If Carolan talked of him, she was scarcely interested, and that made Carolan very happy, because she knew Everard had never wanted Margaret to care for him so blatantly, and he seemed to like her better now that she was more or less indifferent towards him.
Margaret came into the room, looking delightful in her favourite blue, with her fair hair dressed high on her head.
“You look beautiful!” cried Carolan enthusiastically.
Margaret looked wistful, and said: “You always exaggerate.”
“How do I look?” asked Carolan, her head on one side pleadingly.
“All right.” said Margaret.
Carolan grimaced, and Margaret wondered why a dress, which had been merely pretty hanging in the cupboard, should, when draped about Carolan’s slender person, become provocative, seductive, all that in Margaret’s opinion a dress should not be.
Carolan quickly dismissed the disappointment which Margaret’s cool comment had aroused in her, and said: “Oughtn’t we to go down … since you will have to receive people, or something?”
“You need not come yet,” said Margaret.
“I must go.”
“Of course I shall come.” giggled Carolan.
“Do you know, I have been ready for at least half an hour, waiting! If I have to wait much longer I shall burst with impatience.”
“You are a silly child,” said Margaret, ‘and you say such silly things! I am going down now.”
Carolan followed her from the room. The squire from the hall below saw them descending the staircase, and stood there watching them.
By God, he thought, she is growing up. She is a woman. She is not much like Bess and Kitty smaller altogether, brighter, with more vitality. She has all they had though. Carolan … my daughter, Carolan!
His eyes went to Margaret. Nice enough just the wife for young Orland. Margaret’s place was in a country parsonage. Amelia’s girl! And, by God, no one could have any doubt of that. And tonight that young milksop would come to the point, he hoped. The young fellow was a plaguey long time deciding that he wanted to take the girl to bed with him. Still, there was nothing like a ball to bring a young man to the point; show him Margaret’s people knew how to entertain, by God! Show him what sort of a family he would be marrying into. She was nigh on twenty! Time she was off his hands. How the children grew up! Carolan next. No, not Carolan she was his girl, his little daughter. This last year he had been happier than he had been for a long time. He was beginning to shape into that pattern he had cut for himself. He scarcely ever flew into one of the wild rages that had come to him so frequently at one time. People might think he was getting old, but it was not that entirely; he was not getting old; he was getting what he wanted. He had his little Carolan. Why did not Margaret’s eyes sparkle as Carolan’s did? Why did not her hair glow with that vitality?
His hand came down on Carolan’s shoulder.
“By God!” he cried.
“What have we here? I thought it was a child, but it is a young woman!”
She glanced at him through those thick lashes.
“Children are not given ball dresses, are they?” she said.
“Pampered ones might get all sorts of things out of their old fathers.”
She was scintillating. And this at sixteen! He was faintly worried, seeing her like this. He wanted her to remain a child.
“Well, sir,” said Carolan, curtsying, ‘this child is a child no longer.”
He touched her nose with a clumsy forefinger, made her take one arm, offered Margaret his other. Now he was proud and happy, standing with Margaret Carolan in the background -receiving the guests. He was the good squire now; he had been wild in his day, but what young man is not wild in his day? His cottagers could bring their troubles to him nowadays; he might roar at them; he might lose his temper now and then; but he did what he could for them; he was a good squire.