Chapter 5

June: London

At the appointed hour, Frederick exited a hackney and made his way through the sparse crowd entering the performance hall. He had wrestled with his considerable vanity over the choice of attire and had settled on his dress uniform. He thought the scarlet and gold braid against the navy blue of the jacket would allow him to stand out from the rest of the gentlemen, and he was proven correct almost immediately. The Blakeney ladies had already arrived and stood with another couple, and Lady Blakeney saw him soon after he entered the lobby. She smiled in welcome and called her daughter’s attention to him as he approached. Violet’s open delight was a welcome sight.

A few steps more and Frederick made a very correct bow. “Lady Blakeney, Miss Blakeney, good evening. I thank you for including me in your entertainment and trust I find you in good health.”

Lady Blakeney’s welcome was all warmth and ease. “Captain Tilney, you are welcomed indeed. We are very well, thank you.”

Violet blushed prettily. “Good evening, Captain Tilney.”

Once again, Frederick was struck by how much Violet Blakeney had grown in five years. From her father, she had inherited height; she was a half head taller than her mother. Her dark good looks were clearly from Lady Blakeney. French heritage was apparent in her dress and deportment. She was aware that she was beautiful and saw no need to adorn herself with needless embellishment. The dress was exquisite in its simplicity of cut and fabric. Her luxuriant black hair was pulled away from her lovely face and held in place with diamond hairpins. Long gloves and a single diamond dangling from a thin gold necklace completed the ensemble.

Unlike the numerous English roses who filled the room, there was nothing coy in this half-French beauty. Violet’s gaze was open and frank with a hint of interest. It was similar to the penetrating look often seen in Sir Percy’s eyes. This was no simpering miss but a woman-in-waiting: mature and intelligent beyond her years. Her full lips smiled in honest approval — approval of him.

A strong stirring filled Frederick’s being. It was more than simple desire. He needed this girl to think well of him.

“May I introduce you to my friends?” Lady Blakeney indicated the others. “Sir Andrew, Lady Suzanne, allow me to introduce Captain Tilney of the Blues and George’s good friend. Captain Tilney, may I present Sir Andrew Ffoulkes and Lady Ffoulkes, our dearest friends in the world.”

Frederick forced himself to exchange pleasantries with the couple, resolute in his intent to be all that was polite and gentlemanly, inwardly frustrated that he could not spend all his time monopolizing the attentions of the lovely Violet Blakeney. He paid particular notice to Lady Ffoulkes as she pointed out some of their fellow attendees.

“I say, my dear,” she said in a low voice to Sir Andrew as she gestured with her fan, “do you recognize that striking lady in pale blue by the statue there? The party of four? I declare I have seen her before.”

Frederick turned and was startled to behold Sir John Buford standing at the far side of the room with a gentleman and two ladies, the scarlet sash of a Companion of the Bath standing in sharp contrast against his white shirt and black jacket. Buford was facing his direction, and the two locked eyes for a moment.

“Ah,” Sir Andrew said, “that is Mrs. Bingley if I am not mistaken. She is Mrs. Darcy’s sister.”

Almost unconsciously, Frederick made a slight motion with his hand — a small wave of welcome. Sir John frowned slightly and, to Frederick’s intense mortification, turned away.

Frederick was shaken to his core. By God, Buford cut me!

For years, John Buford had been one of his closest companions. They had trained together, eaten together, and drank to excess together. In their youth, before Buford went to Portugal, each took turns extricating the other out of trouble. They enjoyed all the pleasures the young and wealthy pursued. Now, he was rejected by a man he once called a brother. Frederick could feel the blood rush from his face. The pain was like a knife in his belly.

The others seemed not to notice. “Faith, she is a lovely one,” said Lady Blakeney. “The attentive gentleman next to her must be Mr. Bingley.”

“He is,” said Sir Andrew, “and the lady in green is Miss Bingley. But I do not know the second gentleman.”

White as a sheet, Frederick attempted to speak as impassively as possible. “That is Sir John Buford, a colonel in His Majesty’s Light Dragoons.” He hoped his voice was tolerably even.

“A fellow officer, Captain Tilney? Do you know him?” Without waiting for an answer, Sir Andrew turned to Lady Blakeney. “Perhaps we can have the captain make the introductions and ask them to join us for the concert.”

Frederick fought to hide his horror at the idea. Buford just snubbed me, and I am to walk over there and demand his attention, so he may insult me publicly? What am I to do? How do I explain myself?

His agonized thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Violet’s voice. “We are acquainted with Sir John, Godfather, but there is the bell for the performance. I think we must go in.” In a soft voice, she asked, “Are you well, Captain?”

Frederick’s eyes glanced at the girl. The open concern on her face told the tale. She had seen the interaction between himself and Sir John and pitied him. Yet she kept her observations to herself and acted in a manner to protect his dignity. Frederick was both thankful and humiliated by her extraordinary kindness. His regard for her grew tenfold. With Herculean effort, a humbled Frederick schooled his features and spoke in his usual, unperturbed manner.

“Never better, Miss Blakeney. May I?” He extended an arm to each of the Blakeney ladies and escorted them into the hall.

When the concert was over, Violet and Lady Blakeney exited the hall, escorted by Captain Tilney. The music of Mozart was as pleasing as ever, but Violet’s attention was too divided to enjoy the performance fully, drawn as she was by Captain Tilney’s nervousness. She had indeed seen that Sir John had cut the captain, and while she longed to know the reason behind it, her first thought was to protect her friend from further harm.

The worst time came during the intermission, and she babbled some nonsense to keep Sir Andrew occupied and away from the Bingley party. Violet sensed that Captain Tilney’s anxiety had lessened afterwards, and she became convinced that he knew that she knew of his discomfort.

When it was time to leave, Violet leisurely arranged her wrap, thereby assuring their party was among the last to leave. It served, and by the time they reached the streets, the Bingley party was nowhere in evidence.

As they waited for their carriages, Violet took the opportunity to study the captain. He was more at ease than before but withdrawn, talking only when someone engaged him in conversation. Violet assumed he was distressed by the encounter with Sir John, and she longed to find a way to comfort him. She also saw that her mother was watching them and suspected that a long conversation at home was in her future.

Carriages were brought up to the pavement for the patrons, and young men held the horses’ bridles as the guests boarded. A large party was moving to a coach when the team of horses, startled by another carriage passing by, reared up, tossing the post boy to the ground. The driver on the box was unable to control the upset team, and the youth was in jeopardy of being trampled.

Violet screamed.

The next instant, Captain Tilney appeared at the head of the two-horse team, reached up, seized the bridles, and pulled firmly. Violet’s heart was in her mouth as she watched her friend stand between the flailing hooves and the frightened boy, dirt flying all about. The horses fought him, but the intrepid captain was undeterred and would not loosen his grip, all the time speaking to the panicky animals in a low, soothing voice. His efforts allowed the boy to quickly crawl away safely out of danger. By the time other men rushed forward to help, the team had grown calm. Only then did Violet start to breathe again.

Footmen from the coach relieved Captain Tilney, his once pristine uniform now filthy, splotched with dirt. His queue undone, his blond hair fell about his shoulders. The captain’s friends moved to him in time to hear the overweight owner of the coach loudly complain to the supervisor of the unfortunate post boy.

“I have never been so badly treated in my life! My wife was frightened half out of her wits! What did that scoundrel do to my horses? I shall complain to the management!”

The heroic officer stepped up. “Captain Tilney at your service, sir. Is your good lady well?”

The rotund gentleman, his face red from wine and anger, was taken aback at the tall, intimidating soldier. “I…err…yes. I must thank you, sir, for your quick action.”

“I am pleased to have been of assistance.” The smile on Captain Tilney’s lips was not reflected in his eyes. With his queue undone, he looked quite savage.

“Yes, but I am very put out by this entire matter.” The gentleman turned to the supervisor. “I insist that something be done about this young menace!”

“What?” Captain Tilney interrupted. “You mean this fine lad here? Why, he risked his neck trying to keep your team under control. You should be thankful he was not trampled.”

“It would serve him right, the clumsy fool!”

“I see,” Captain Tilney said in a low voice, all good humor done away. He loomed over the churlish fool. “Your coach is ready and the team calmed, so I am certain you can leave in safety now. I wish you and your lady good night…sir.” The captain pierced the man with a glare.

The fat gentleman backed away from the tall, dangerous-looking officer and, with an oath, climbed into his coach. Captain Tilney did not watch it leave; instead, he walked over to the frightened youth.

“How are you faring, my lad?” He ruffled the young man’s hair. “Quite the scare, what?”

The boy nodded. “Yes, sir. Thankee, sir. You…you saved me life, you did.”

“What is your name?”

“Nate, sir.”

Captain Tilney grinned and passed the boy a coin. “You would have done the same for me, Nate.”

The boy could hardly believe his good fortune. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!”

Captain Tilney turned to the supervisor. “You know that was an accident, do you not, and Nate was not at fault?”

“Aye,” the man answered. “I will remember, sir.”

“See that you do,” added Sir Andrew, who gave the man some money. He turned to the officer. “I am afraid your uniform is the worse for wear, Captain.”

Tilney grimaced as he looked down and dusted off his coat. “My man will be beside himself cleaning this lot, but there is nothing for it.” He turned to the ladies. “I hope you did not take fright.”

Lady Blakeney answered for them all. “We are perfectly well and thankful you were not harmed. It was a very brave thing you did, Captain.”

Violet was surprised to see Captain Tilney shrug. “Think nothing of it, my lady. I am well acquainted with horses. We are old friends.” He then took his leave of them, and Violet noticed her mother whispering something in the captain’s ear. He smiled, bowed over her hand, and turned to Violet.

“Miss Blakeney, until we meet again.”

Violet’s emotions were already quite high, and Captain Tilney’s intense look did nothing to calm her. Indeed, the effect was quite the opposite. Seeing his hair undone and face red with exertion, she became well aware of the man beneath the gentleman before her. Echoes of a primitive yearning for strength and safety and security rang through her mind. It was both disturbing and attractive. Still, she was able to bid him farewell with tolerable composure.

A few minutes later in the Blakeney carriage, her mother sighed. “Not the best way to end an evening, is it, Violet?”

“No, Mama. It is very fortunate Captain Tilney was able to help that poor boy.”

“Yes. He is brave and quick thinking. And he was very kind to young Nate. I believe the boy’s position is safe.” Violet felt her mother’s inquisitive glance. “You were very sly tonight, Violet. It did not escape my notice that Captain Tilney was out of sorts during the concert, and you — you were acting very strangely. Why?”

Violet, coloring, told her mother what she saw between Captain Tilney and Sir John. Even in the darkness, she knew her mother was frowning.

“I am distressed to hear that some quarrel has arisen between Captain Tilney and Sir John.” She was silent for some moments. “Were you trying to protect him from embarrassment?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“You have become good friends with Captain Tilney,” her mother observed.

“Yes, Mama.” Unsure of the depths of her feelings, she added, “He is George’s friend, and he is ours.”

“Mmm-hmm,” was Lady Blakeney’s only answer, and so the subject was exhausted, much to Violet’s relief.