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Mr. Melbourne did come to claim me for a quadrille about an hour later. The pointed attention was embarrassing to say the least, for he did not dance twice with any other lady present. He didn’t approach Miss Dunbar for even one dance.
Not that I paid that much attention to who he spoke to or danced with.
That is not to say I was the most popular girl there. I sat out several dances but had several lovely conversations with Mrs. Forrester and other ladies around me. It would have been a most enjoyable evening if I had been able to dismiss Mr. Melbourne’s puzzling actions from my mind.
Why had he unsettled me so much? He wasn’t the only one to mention Jonathan Sinclair to me and he wasn’t the only one to have ever offered me a compliment. Was it because he had done both in the course of one conversation?
Mother had noticed Mr. Melbourne’s attention, and she was not at all pleased. “What does he mean by singling you out? He means to make you look ridiculous in front of your friends and family,” she said in the carriage when we returned home. “John, you saw it, didn’t you?”
“I thought him a respectful and polite young man,” Papa said. We passed a streetlamp and I could see that he was smiling. “It was thoughtful of him to dance with Grace. Aren’t you always wanting to see her dance more?”
“No doubt he did so because he was friends with Jonathan,” I added. “He was simply being kind.”
“And no doubt he will be off once again as Mr. Harper was,” Mother said with a huff. “Do you think no one noticed that he stood up with you twice, Grace? What do you think everyone will say?”
Papa reached over and patted her hand. “Would you have had Grace refuse him and then sit out for the entire evening? I would understand your concern if he had asked her for a third dance, but he did not. He remained within the bounds of propriety. I would wager no one will remark on it.”
Part of me wanted to question why my mother was not pleased about Mr. Melbourne showing me some attention. If it had been any other gentleman, she would have been ecstatic, especially if it had been one of the bachelors she had introduced me to before. I found it enlightening that she was not enthusiastic when it was someone she had not chosen.
But I didn’t have the energy for the fight that would surely ensue if I mentioned it. There was no point in exasperating the situation. By morning, Mother will have moved on from her annoyance and I hoped a night to think over the matter would also help me reconcile Mr. Melbourne’s actions and words in my own mind.
****
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, I spent several hours at the pianoforte. Mother had gone to visit a sick friend, and Papa was reading in his library. When I finished one of Mozart’s sonatas, I heard someone clear their throat behind me. Startled, I twisted around to find a maid in the doorway. How long had she been there?
“Pardon me, miss,” Sally said. Her eyes were bright with curiosity. “There’s a gentleman here to see you. Shall I show him in?”
Immediately, I thought of Mr. Harper. It hadn’t been that long since he had visited, but I was always willing to speak to Jonathan’s closest friend. “Of course,” I said, standing up from my instrument.
Sally bobbed a curtsied and hurried out of view. I took a seat next to the window and reached for my embroidery. What brought Mr. Harper to me again? Would he ask me about what I remembered from five years ago as he and that maid, Miss Nelson, had done already?
“Good day, Miss Anderson.”
I almost dropped the shawl I was embroidering. Mr. Melbourne? I jumped up from my chair. “Oh. Good day, Mr. Melbourne,” I managed to say. “This is...a surprise. I’m afraid my mother is not here at the moment”
“No matter. I came to see you,” Mr. Melbourne said, striding across the room. He caught my hand as he bowed and brought it up to his lips. “You are looking well. Clearly, the enjoyments of last evening did not adversely affect you.”
Flustered, I gestured to the chair opposite mine. “Sally,” I said, looking to where the maid was peering in. “Will you please inform my father that Mr. Melbourne is here? And bring up a tea tray.”
The maid nodded and vanished. “What were you playing just now?” the man asked, glancing at the pianoforte. “You are more skilled than I had been led to believe.”
“Thank you,” I replied. I also looked at my instrument, relieved to have somewhere to direct my gaze. “It is a favourite pastime of mine and has brought me much comfort these past few years.”
“Perhaps you would be good enough to play for me? I confess that while I could hear you as soon as I entered, I was not able to appreciate your talent from so far away.”
Hiding behind my instrument held a great deal of appeal. But it would hardly be appropriate, would it?
“Ah, Mr. Melbourne,” my father said as he entered. “Good to see you again so soon.”
“It is my pleasure, sir,” he greeted. Mr. Melbourne rose from his chair to shake hands with my father. “I was not sure if this was a day Miss Anderson received callers but thought to take the chance. I can’t tell you how delighted I was to arrive in time to hear her playing.”
“Grace, you must play him a tune,” Papa said as he sat down. “Something cheerful to compliment the lovely day.”
“Very well, Papa,” I said, moving back to my instrument. Instead of one of the more complicated sonatas, I chose a lively country dance. It was quick, I knew it from memory, and could be played in a matter of minutes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Melbourne paying close attention to my playing. Even my father sat with a pleased smile. Sally carried in the tray just as I played the last chord. Both men applauded as I stood up.
“Well done, my girl,” Papa said. “As usual.”
“It is even better to observe in person than listening from the hall,” Mr. Melbourne said with a grin. “If anything, the rumours I have heard underestimate your skill. I will have to put them all right from this point on!”
Embarrassed, I took refuge behind the tea tray. I poured the first cup for my father and added one sugar as I knew he liked. “Do you take any cream or sugar in your tea, Mr. Melbourne?” I asked as I handed my father the cup.
“Just sugar, if you please.”
“Have you had a letter from your father since you arrived?” Papa asked Mr. Melbourne. “Does he plan to visit Bath, or is all his focus on London?”
While they conversed, I had time to calm my racing heart. Why had Mr. Melbourne come? Dancing with me was one thing, but this visit hinted at something more! Had he not paid attention to Miss Dunbar no more than three days ago? To suddenly turn his attention to me, there had to be a reason, and I resolved to discover what it was.
“If it would not be too much of an imposition, I was hoping Miss Anderson might be willing to go for a drive tomorrow afternoon.”
With a start, I realized what the man had just said and that he was looking at me expectantly. Driving? Even Jonathan hadn’t taken me driving while we were courting. Jonathan had preferred to remain in town, claiming to enjoy watching other people. He’d often entertained me with imagined stories about what those people might be saying.
“I’m sure she would be delighted, wouldn’t you, Grace,” Papa said, lifting his teacup. He glanced at me. “You don’t have any prior plans or arrangements with your mother, do you? I cannot recall.”
He knew I seldom had specific arrangements, and yet he was offering me a way to gracefully refuse the invitation if I so desired. Mr. Melbourne’s eager expression made me hesitate to take such action. “No,” I said slowly. “Unless Mother has plans she has not told me about, I do not have any prior engagements for the day.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Melbourne said. Did I imagine the relief in his voice? “Shall we say three o’clock then? Should the weather stay fine?”
“Yes, of course. That would be lovely.”
Mr. Melbourne remained for another fifteen minutes and the conversation remained general: the dance, and who had been there. Once he took his leave, I waited until I was sure he had been shown out before I turned to my father. He spoke before I could, though.
“I know he was enamoured of Miss Dunbar earlier this week, “ Papa said as though he had read my mind. “I think he has shown admirable sense in moving his attention to a more worthy lady.”
“And what if he is only doing so to make Miss Dunbar jealous?”
“If he is, he will learn it will do him no good. That girl is so self-centred, she seeks to make the most advantageous match she can. Mr. Melbourne is well off, but I believe Miss Dunbar will look higher. She is silly enough to think a sensible man will like her flirtatious ways.”
“You may know that, but Mr. Melbourne may not. I want no part of any such scheme.”
Papa reached over to pat my hand. “Perhaps, but he has sense. He has chosen to get to know you, after all.”
That was hardly reassuring.
“In any event,” Papa continued, “wouldn’t Jonathan Sinclair have wanted you to be kind to his friend?”
Pursing my lips, I looked down at my tea. Friendship? Yes. However, there was a large difference between being kind to a friend and permitting a courtship. Had Jonathan been alive to give his opinion, I would have been married and this would not be happening.
“Think of it like this,” Papa said with a smile. “It will irritate your mother. Probably more than she has irritated you these past few months. And it will give you some time away from the gentlemen your mother would see you marry.”
He rose and left me staring after him. Had he just encouraged me to do something simply to annoy my mother?
Shaking my head, I set aside my tea but didn’t summon the maid to clear it away. I needed some time to think. I couldn’t be sure of Mr. Melbourne’s intentions no matter how sincere his compliments had been.
Of all the gentlemen Mother had invited to visit and introduced me to, none had ever called me beautiful. They had complimented my playing, but none of them had been bold in doing so. Did I like that?
“One drive cannot hurt anything,” I said aloud.
And, of course, that would be the moment Mother returned. “Who are you talking to dear?” she asked as she entered. She frowned at the tea tray. “Did you have a visitor while I was out?”
“Yes,” I hesitated for only a moment. “Mr. Melbourne called to invite me on a drive tomorrow.”
When I lifted my gaze, Mother’s face had gone red with fury. “Pray, tell me what your answer was,” she said in a calm tone. “I do hope you had the sense to put him off to wait for my advice.”
“I had Papa’s advice and he saw no objection to Mr. Melbourne’s request,” I replied. I rose from my seat and walked towards the door. “Mr. Melbourne will come for me at three o’clock tomorrow. Were you planning on going to the Pump Room this afternoon?”
When there was no immediate answer, I looked over my shoulder. Mother was glaring at me. “I wish to speak to your father,” she said, through clenched teeth. “Will you please send him to me?”
I hastened out to avoid her anger. Did she really dislike Mr. Melbourne for one incident five years ago? Did she think the gentlemen she had chosen didn’t have some youthful indiscretions they were ashamed of? Or was she upset that it was someone she hadn’t decided on who had convinced me to put off my mourning?
Well, she ought to have realized by my constant refusals to comply that I would not be dictated to. I knew my own mind.
Except where Mr. Melbourne was concerned. He confused me.
With any luck, a drive would help me make up my mind.