Then she noticed Frances Apsley watching her intently. Their eyes met and Frances smiled.
“She wants me to succeed,” thought Mary. “She will be unhappy if I do not.”
Mary was determined then to dance as she never had before.
The music had begun and her legs felt heavy; but there was Jemmy smiling and whispering: “Come on. It’s only a game after all.”
And then because of Jemmy, Frances Apsley, and her father, it became the fun it had been when they had practised at Richmond and she danced as well as she ever had.
She was delighted to see Margaret Blagge’s success. She looked so beautiful in her shimmering dress—the perfect Diana. Surely, thought Mary, she must be enjoying the approval of the spectators.
Sarah Jennings tried to get nearer to the audience that she might be noticed; as for Anne, she performed with a carelessness which everyone seemed to find amusing.
Dryden’s epilogue was read and they all knew that the ballet had been a success. The King was delighted—particularly with his nieces; he saw this for an excellent beginning of Court life for them.
James was almost in tears; nothing could have given him greater pleasure than the success of his daughters. The King declared that such shimmering talents must not be hidden when he congratulated John Crowne, Mr. Dryden, his nieces, Jemmy, and all the dancers.
In the dressing room where the company had prepared themselves, Mary found Margaret Blagge in great distress.
“I was wearing it about my neck when the ballet began. I cannot understand it. How could I have lost it?”
Mary asked to know what and when Margaret replied that it was Lady Suffolk’s diamond, she was horrified.
“But it must be on the stage.”
“I have searched everywhere. Oh, my lady Mary, what shall I do? It is worth eighty pounds. I cannot replace it. I don’t possess eighty pounds. What shall I do? No one will ever trust me again. And to think I tried so hard not to borrow it. This is a judgement. I knew it was sinful.”
To see the lovely maid of honor so distressed, upset Mary. It seemed to her a terrible calamity to have borrowed a valuable diamond against one’s will and then to have lost it.
“No one will ever trust me again,” sobbed Margaret.
“We must look everywhere you have been.”
“They have already done so. My maids have looked. I have looked. There is no sign of it. I daren’t tell Lady Suffolk.”
“Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?” asked Mary.
“I … I think so.”
“I will look. I am rather good at finding things. It is big enough and it sparkles so, it ought not to be difficult to find.”
“That’s why I greatly fear that someone has found it and kept it.”
“Oh, poor Margaret. I will look and if I can’t find it perhaps I could ask my father what is the best thing to do.”
“Lady Suffolk will never forgive me, I know. I shall have to replace it and I don’t see how I can.”
Mary went off purposefully; she would search in every place where they had been.
She made her way to the stage, passing the anterooms on the way; she wondered whether Margaret had gone into any of these and forgotten. Mary would search every one because she could not bear to see lovely Margaret so unhappy.
She searched the first of these without success, and went to another. There was no light in this room except that which came through the window, but there was a full moon. She hesitated. Would it be possible to find the diamond in this light? It was big and sparkled, so perhaps it would be visible. She would take a good look and then perhaps call for candles. She heard a sound and knew at once that she was not alone. Someone else had come to this room.
She was about to say that she was looking for a lost diamond when, her eyes having become accustomed to the light, she saw them, and recognition was instantaneous. It was Jemmy and Henrietta Wentworth, and she knew what they were doing.
She stood for a few seconds and then ran from the room.
Jemmy and Henrietta! But Jemmy was married.
She was shocked and horrified: and there was some new emotion too which she had not experienced before. She was not sure what it was; she only knew that she had been fond of Jemmy, and was horrified that he could so betray his wife.
She ran out of the room and on to the stage. How foolish of her, for the hall was crowded and she would be seen.
“Is anything wrong?”
Mary turned round; she was looking into the lovely face of Frances Apsley.
“So … it is you,” stammered Mary.
“You seem distressed, my lady.”
“Yes … yes … I believe I am.”
“If I could help you …”
“I do not know.”
“If you feel that you could confide in me …”
“Yes, perhaps I could.”
Frances Apsley took Mary’s hand and led her into an anteroom, similar to that in which Mary had seen Jemmy and Henrietta Wentworth, but this one was lighted.
“There, let us sit down.”
They sat in one of the window seats and Mary leaned against Frances and felt comforted.
“I don’t think I can tell you,” she said. “It was … disgusting. It was someone I know.”
“I think I understand.”
“Do you? But that is clever of you.”
Frances smiled. “I am a good deal older than you.”
“I am eleven,” said Mary.
“That makes me nine years older than you.”
“You are very wise and beautiful.”
Frances laughed. “I think you may not be very discriminating.”
“I only know,” said Mary, “that when I saw you I knew that I had never seen anyone so beautiful.”
“When you come to Court you will meet many beautiful people.”
“Perhaps,” said Mary. “But when I see perfection I know it. I am so honored that you spoke to me. Do you know, that does not seem important any more.”
“I am glad. I am sure it was not of any great importance.”
“No. It is only when things like that happen to people of whom one is very fond … And I was fond of …”
Frances laid a hand over that of the Princess. “Don’t think of it. It is best forgotten.”
“Meeting you has made it seem unimportant. Your name is Frances. I think it is a lovely name—but not lovely enough for you, of course. I want to go on talking to forget that. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Frances, “I understand. Let us talk of the ballet. You danced beautifully, and of course you were the center of the play. Diana was charming.”
“Oh, that reminds me. She is so distressed. I was looking for it when …” Mary turned to Frances. “You are so wise. Perhaps you can help me comfort her. Margaret Blagge has lost a diamond which belonged to Lady Suffolk, and she is terrified because she is afraid she will have to replace it and she is not rich.”
“It will likely be found.”
“Yes, Frances, but if it is not? Poor Margaret is almost ill with grief. You see she did not want to dance in the ballet because she thinks dancing sinful, and she did not want to borrow the diamonds. It is very sad.”
Mary’s long dark eyes were expectant as she lifted them to the face of her new friend.
“Have you told your father?” asked Frances. “He might be able to help.”
“Do you think he would?”
“I am sure that if you asked him he would want to do it … just to please you.”
“You are right, Frances. Oh how clever you are. Let us go to him at once.”