MRS. EVANS CALLED ON THE assistance of Mrs. Bell and Laura to write out the invitations to the ball. Sir Richard sent them out—some by post, some with a servant, others delivered by his own hand. The acceptances came back promptly; only one or two families declined on the grounds of ill-health. One such refusal threw the baronet into dark suspicion.
He rode into the village and knocked at the door of the lodgings occupied by his old friends the Miss Charmans and their orphaned niece, seventeen-year-old Fanny. He ducked his head to enter the cramped room, which held such pieces of furniture as they had salvaged from former days, when they had lived in more comfort. He found the two older ladies alone, sitting by the fire. On the mantelpiece, the invitation, marked with the coat of arms of Oakmont, stood in proud prominence.
“Sir Richard, what delight you give us,” said Miss Annabel Charman. “You were too kind, you know, in sending us such a large piece of pork the other day.”
“No, no—we cannot have waste at Oakmont!” he cried, as usual. It mattered not what the gift had been—from a load of firewood to a great jug of soup—his excuse was the same.
Despite her swollen knuckles, Miss Charman poured the tea from a pot with a large handle. After accepting his cup, the baronet hummed and hawed a little.
“I do not like to bring up such a matter,” he said. “But—you have received your payment as usual this month?”
“Yes, indeed, I thank you,” said Miss Charman. “The proprietor of the gallery has sent a kind letter. A customer asks that Annabel paint a series of miniatures in the picturesque style—rocks, waterfalls and so forth—not that the buyer will know the artist’s identity, of course. I would not have you think that.”
Every month, Sir Richard carried away a parcel of Miss Annabel’s miniature landscapes, and Miss Fanny’s embroidery, to be privately sold in Exeter. Miss Charman, the elder, was too crippled with arthritis to contribute. It was well known in the village, but the fact that the ladies were not forced to display their goods themselves for sale, or to take payment face to face, preserved their situation as gentlewomen.
“Well,” he said. “I will come to the point. You will disappoint me greatly if you do not come to the dance. Perhaps Miss Fanny is shy?”
Miss Annabel laughed. “Well, that is hardly the case, is it, sir?” She blushed, despite having prepared for this very explanation. “We all feel that so much is owed to the captain, and this is the celebration of his coming nuptials.”
He looked at her, uncomprehending.
She went on. “His bride will wish to see him in full uniform, and … it makes the occasion a little grand for us.” She saw the dismay in his eyes. “We are so very happy and honoured to have been invited, of course. That means more to us than attending, in a way.”
The ladies saw that their benefactor seemed discomfited and set about entertaining him with the latest news.
“Did you hear, sir, that Mr. Woodruff has left his father’s house?”
“I heard something of it but all will blow over, as such quarrels generally do.”
“The young gentleman stayed at the inn for two days, waiting in vain to hear from his father. He is now gone off in the London coach.”
“Surely not!”
“Yes indeed, for Mrs. Smith told us that Mr. Brumfield wrote to his wife that he travelled with him as far as Exeter and saw him get on the outside of the stage there.”
“The landlord at Lewton Inn has sent his bill to the colonel,” added Miss Annabel Charman.
Sir Richard shook his head. “The young man would have done better to arrange to pay it himself.”
“It seems that Mr. Woodruff wishes to take up the law.”
“It will be many a year before the law will pay for his fine way of life.”
Shaking his head over the impetuous young man, the baronet left them. His attempt to persuade the ladies to come to the dance in their usual evening dress was met with polite resistance.
Sir Richard was convinced that Mrs. Evans had found an indirect route to have her own way. She quickly learnt that he was very displeased, and no amount of flirtation or tears could excuse her, or cold looks frighten him. As had happened once or twice before, Elspeth had gone too far.
Two days later, the Charman ladies wrote to the baronet, explaining that their health had suddenly improved and that they hoped to be able to attend the ball. Sir Richard never enquired how Elspeth had got around the ladies’ pride. In fact, it had cost her very little: a performance of tears and smiles; a tale of the gown that had been her old husband’s favourite (though scarcely worn); of her happiness if she could but see it on another—although she could never wear it again herself without tears. It became an act of charity to accept the gift. And in the box, beneath the ball gown, the ladies discovered a piece of black lace—perfect for covering the faded patch on Miss Charman’s old silk gown.
The last weeks before the wedding were enlivened by several entertainments at Oakmont and at Lewton Hall. At first these were attended by the small circle of gentlefolk that the neighbourhood afforded. Gradually the circle widened as visitors arrived at both houses, and visits took on more the appearance of parties.
Laura was pleased to renew her acquaintance with Edward’s friends Mr. and Mrs. Jenner, who came to stay at Oakmont to attend the ball. How refreshing she found their natural friendliness, which they offered with no expectation of awing others with elegance or charm.
First Lieutenant Mitchell, formerly of the Capricornia, and Edward’s most esteemed officer, also came to stay. Lady Clarydon was quite taken with him, and began to think of what she could do to arrange promotion for him. He had profited from rewards, too, but naturally to a lesser extent than his captain. Her ladyship lamented that, while the war continued still, the sea battles seemed to be over. She recommended that he capture a French merchant ship—one well-loaded with valuable cargo. He undertook to do all he could to carry out this novel idea.
Laura had watched the countess’s return with more irony than the first time, given her understanding of Mrs. Bell’s circumstances. Yet, it took the great lady only minutes to have Laura questioning herself as cynical, as the same charm wove its spell on them all.
“How does she do it?” thought Laura. “When I am away from her, I feel nothing but suspicion. Yet when I am with her—I am half under her spell.”
The colonel and Mrs. Woodruff went ahead with their plans for a musical evening at Lewton Hall, in the absence of the heir. They received their guests each in their own way. The colonel carried on as though no such person as Jeremy Woodruff ever existed, but his wife whispered their son’s apologies on account of another engagement. It was widely said that the engagement to which Mr. Woodruff was held was that which tied him to a clerk’s desk.
Almost as soon as Laura arrived, Jane broached the subject with her, saying quietly, “You will have heard that my brother has determined to be independent.”
Laura was about to make some innocuous reply, but changed her mind, feeling that Miss Woodruff might prefer her honesty.
“I admit to being surprised that Mr. Woodruff is prepared to throw himself into work which I imagine to be drudgery.”
“His employer offers Jeremy his chance in court in a year or so. A barrister must begin somewhere. My father comforts himself that Jeremy is not clerk to a tradesman.”
“Each of us has pride, over some matter or another.”
“Yes. He was wrong to quarrel with his father, but I am a little proud of him, for standing by his own foolishness.”
The musicians were taking their places. Sir Richard approached to escort Laura to her seat.
“I know just what my cousin would quote,” said Laura. “Honest labour bears a lovely face.”
“That can only be the favourite quote of an honest man,” said Jane.