When the company was well assembled, Frederica had hoped to be released from her cousin’s side and go to her aunt, where she might sit and observe in silence. Her knowledge of how everything was to proceed had come only from conversation and books, and she was discomfited, therefore, to learn that she was to open the ball with her cousin. The artlessness that had preserved her from any fear of not having a partner was unequal to this discovery. “Oh, but, cousin—surely it cannot be my place! There are so many young ladies who are higher—who have a right to expect the distinction!”
“Yes, there are too many of them who expect it, but none who deserves it more,” he said as he conducted her to the top of the room. “Have no fear, cousin, I will claim only the two first—it was quite settled between young deCourcy and myself that I should have you open the dance and then he may have as much of your company as he likes.”
Frederica replied with a blush and a toss of her head, and began the dance with more elegance and composure than she was feeling. It was her nature to learn everything thoroughly, and when impressed with the fact that young ladies must dance, she had applied herself to the process with as much dedication as to science, and with as much success. The attention of everyone was engaged by their host and his partner as they went down the dance; they saw nothing that suggested an aversion to her cousin on Miss Vernon’s part and yet nothing that indicated anything like infatuation on his. The rumors of their engagement had everyone on his side—he was handsome, amiable, and rich, and Miss Vernon was a very great fool if she did not like him; yet that had been resolved before she was seen very much at all. Indeed, she was everything that was lovely and elegant, and many of the young men who had precipitately engaged other partners for every dance began to regret their haste, while those who had saved a dance or two readied themselves to petition her in the course of the evening.
Sir James would have escorted her to his mother, but Lucy Smith caught Frederica’s hand as soon as she had finished dancing and whisked her to the side of the room. “How exquisite your gown is! I have such a good bit of gossip! You will die of laughter when I tell you! They are all so angry that Lavinia could not sit still to have her hair dressed! Only look how it has frizzed all over! My uncle has written to my mother and told her that Reginald does not mean to marry Livvy! Only think of all the gentlemen she took no notice of because she was secure of him! My uncle’s letter was so solemn—‘We erred, my dear sister, in substituting our own wishes for theirs, and supposing that filial obligation must include a surrender of all inclination. Reginald’s heart, I believe, has been fixed elsewhere’!” Here, Lucy broke into a fit of giggles. “Ah, you look so conscious! And to have Sir Reginald call upon your mother so immediately upon coming to town—so, is it all settled between them?”
The color rushed into Frederica’s cheeks. The journey from Kent to London had increased her and Reginald’s admiration of each other—Reginald was captivated by her thoughtful conversation and her beauty, and she was very pleased with his opinions and manners. The engagement of Maria and Lewis deCourcy, moreover, had put them both in a frame of mind to think and talk of marriage, and the length of the journey was just enough for them to understand that their views on the subject were very much the same.
Still, Lucy spoke as though Reginald or his father had already addressed Lady Vernon and Frederica was undecided whether to be pleased at Lucy’s conviction that Reginald had declared himself or to be offended that he had not declared himself to her before speaking to her mother.
“Ah, here comes my dear Smith again,” declared Lucy, “plaguing me to dance—to have him importune me so when he sought my hand was well and good, but a husband does not need to court his wife.”
Mr. Smith claimed her, and Frederica began to make her way around the room toward Lady Martin, when a group of people standing together to comment upon the dancing and the company barred her path, and she happened to catch some of their conversation. “Lady Vernon has quite captivated young deCourcy, I understand, and Sir Reginald has come to London on purpose to give them his blessing. They must wait until Miss Vernon weds Sir James, of course—it would not be suitable for the mother to marry before the daughter.”
Can that have been Lucy’s meaning? Frederica wondered. She did not know whether to laugh or to cry—she had come to be inured to the belief that she was to marry Sir James and was content that such a rumor must die out in time—but to think that Reginald was to wed her mother!
She went and sat down beside her aunt.
“Why, what is the matter, child? You are quite pale. One dance cannot have done you in, for here comes young deCourcy to claim you.”
“Oh, Aunt, I cannot—do make some excuse! What significance will everyone put upon our dancing together?”
“What do you mean?”
Reginald came up to the ladies and bowed, and after exchanging a few words with Lady Martin, he petitioned Frederica for the next set.
Frederica could not refuse. She danced the first dance with more diligence than feeling, and as the second was to begin, Reginald looked at her closely and said in a low voice, “I think that you would rather sit down—may we not go up to the conservatory? It will be cooler there.”
Frederica took his arm and they went up to the conservatory, which was arranged with an elegance and discrimination that would have surprised those who believed Sir James to be thoughtless and shallow.
“These occasions so often take on the importance of a debut—a newly engaged couple or a lady’s being out will always make someone or other the object of attention. Miss Manwaring bears the discomfort of being stared at very well, and as my uncle sees no one save for her, he is equally free of distress. You feel for them more than they feel for themselves, I think.”
“I feel nothing but joy for them, I assure you,” replied Frederica. “But my weeks at Parklands had put everything unpleasant very far from my thoughts, and I had forgotten how many had convinced themselves that I was to marry my cousin.”
“It cannot be disconcerting to be admired by Sir James—he cannot distress you. Is it, then, the notion of marrying anybody that you find to be unpleasant?”
“Oh, no!” she replied with a blush. “I have known more happy marriages than unhappy ones. It is not the prospect of marriage but the rumors that distress me—not of a union between Sir James and myself, but between my mother and—and you.”
She observed his reaction to her words carefully. If his response to the rumor of a marriage to her mother was either laughter or indignation, she was convinced that she could not like him.
He did not laugh, however, nor did he recoil. He smiled gravely and said, “Such rumors began when I arrived at Churchill Manor, and your mother was good enough not to ridicule the notion. She, very sensibly, accounted for the gossip by saying that when a single gentleman and lady are under one roof, everybody will want to have them married. I do not deny that I admire Lady Vernon. Her superior company helped my leisure hours at Churchill Manor pass very pleasantly, and after your arrival we developed a greater rapport, as we had an interest in common.”
Her attentive expression and sweet smile gave him all of the encouragement he needed to continue. “Miss Vernon, I am confident in my own sentiments—my gratitude for the very material improvement in my father, which I must attribute entirely to you, would itself be a sensible foundation for affection—and I know you to be a young lady who ranks sense very highly. But I have other grounds for regard—I assure you I have a dozen speeches ready in praise of your kindness, your accomplishments, and your excellent understanding, if you will hear them.”