The Tales of Aylfenhame Compendium

Chapter Seven-1

Chapter Seven

Ye may be wonderin’ why I dwell so much on the topic o’ the ball. Well! And why not? It’s an important event, as ye’ll soon see. Fer Aubranael, poor fellow, the promise o’ the ball was as the promise o’ water to a man dyin’ o’ thirst. An’ t’Sophy… well, she was by no means so indifferent as she pretended. All that faffing wi’ gowns an’ trim! But who could wonder at it? My Sophy’s no more impervious to a little admiration than any other, that’s fer sure—no matter what she may say. An’ this ball… well, let’s just say that nothin’ was quite the same after.

Aubranael stood near the great double doors of the Adairs’ ballroom, keeping a close eye on the stream of guests as they arrived. Miss Landon was late, he thought; the room was rapidly filling up, and as yet there was no sign of her. The Adairs had spared no expense in turning out their house for the ball: the room shone with the light of hundreds of wax candles, and an abundance of flowers decked every available surface. The effect was undeniably pretty, but Aubranael had no eyes for it. In his estimation, the ball could receive no higher adornment than the presence of Miss Landon, and as yet, she had failed to grace it at all.

Restless, he paced away a few steps and then back again. Grunewald had assured him that Miss Landon’s invitation was secured, but as he had seen no direct evidence that it had been sent, Aubranael could not dismiss the suspicion that the Adairs had refused to honour his request after all.

Or perhaps they had invited her, but she had declined to accept! That was always possible.

Perhaps she had accepted and was on her way, but some mishap had befallen her carriage. Grunewald assured him that she was likely to travel with the Ellerbys—a family wealthy enough to merit an invitation without any interference from Grunewald—so she would be sure to arrive safely. But the light was fading fast; the possibility of their meeting with some danger upon the road did not seem distant enough to Aubranael’s mind; and besides, the roads of Tilby were not always very good. He tried not to imagine the Ellerby carriage overturned in a ditch, or held up upon the road by a pair of thieves.

He was not left alone with his fears for very long. His choice of station was not altogether ideal in some respects: he had placed himself where he would be the first to see each new arrival, but that meant he was also one of the first people they saw as they stepped into the room. Many paid their respects to the hosts of the evening and then walked directly up to him, with a seemingly endless series of greetings and poor jokes and insinuations to share. They obliged him to exert himself to be sociable, when he wished only to brood; and besides this, they blocked his view of the door.

Worse, he found that Miss Elizabeth Adair was determined to attach herself to him for—he feared—the whole of the evening. She hovered near his elbow, doing her part to welcome guests with many a winning smile and gracious comment, but never moving more than a few paces away from him. And whenever there was a lull in the arrivals, and she found herself with a few moments of quiet, she would invariably direct those winning smiles and gracious comments at him.

He was well aware by now that he had been marked out for her by Tilby society, as handsome enough to match her in looks and wealthy enough to match her in importance. She seemed to feel it, too, for she was doing her level best to fascinate him at every opportunity. But as he found her affected, arrogant and cruel, nothing could recommend her to him as a tolerable companion—certainly not the beauty for which she was lauded across the whole of the county. He did his best to suggest to her, by way of a courteous but distant manner, that her interest was by no means returned; but he found that her self-assurance carried her through it all with an unimpaired confidence of winning him in the end. No hint won through to her ear, no subtlety made any impression upon her; she was oblivious to it all.

At length he found that the ball was on the point of beginning. All the company seemed assembled, save that one, precious presence; the orchestra began, in a flurried cacophony, to warm up their instruments; gentlemen began to solicit the ladies for the first dance. He was displeased to notice that no one approached Miss Adair, nor did she seem to expect anybody to do so. All her expectations were fixed upon him, and it appeared that the rest of the guests were equally sanguine in their expectation that Miss Adair would open the ball with Mr. Stanton.

Aubranael ground his teeth together in frustration, and did his best to ignore the smiling presence of Miss Adair beside him.

But the lady was by no means willing to take the hint, and let her prize escape. As the orchestra began to strike up a tune, she approached him directly, opened her pretty blue eyes very wide and directed her most gracious smile at him. ‘I can hardly think how it should happen that I should want for a partner—and at my very own ball! Perhaps—just between you and I—I have been saving the first dances for a particular favourite of mine.’

This was a bold speech; Aubranael had learned enough of English manners to recognise that much. But she had been spoiled by too much privilege and admiration, ever since childhood, he would wager. Used to having her own way, and to receiving a great deal of praise and admiration whenever she could desire it, she could not conceive of a world where the handsome young man that she had chosen should not wish to dance with her.

Aubranael stared hard at her. She was looking so becoming in a blue silk gown, rich with embroidery and beads. Her glossy brown hair was perfectly arranged, through the efforts of a very expensive abigail he had no doubt. Her young face looked as though her rich mother and father had simply purchased the most winning countenance for their daughter that the imagination could conceive of.

The whole picture left him utterly cold.

If he had ever hoped to find the people of England less blinded by beauty than those of Aylfenhame, those hopes were long gone. Beauty and wealth; no more powerful combination existed anywhere. He began, just a little, to regret the part he was playing. By masquerading as yet more beauty and wealth, he pandered disgracefully to the superficial attitudes that governed the lives and the opinions of so many of the people around him. He had sought a handsome face, and accepted the appearance of wealth, fully expecting that these things would win him the favour he had never before enjoyed—and so they had. But was he any better than Miss Adair?

And if Miss Landon was moved to bestow her favour upon him because he was now beautiful and rich, was she any better either?

His whole approach began to seem like a colossal mistake. His mouth turned dry, and something like blind panic washed through him. He did not have time to consider these ideas for very long, however, for at that moment there came a little commotion of arrival at the door, and at long last he saw Miss Landon.

She was wearing a dark red gown which was, he thought, very becoming with her slightly brown complexion. The gown was neither so fine nor so richly adorned as Miss Adair’s; her face was not nearly so perfect, and not even the silk cap that she wore could disguise the fact that her curling, sun-coloured hair was not at all well arranged.

But she brought with her something special, an indefinable air that Miss Adair wholly lacked. Perhaps it was the way her smile lit up her face, or the way her blue eyes danced with pleasure at the sight of the crowded ballroom. Perhaps it was the way she hung back, diffidently allowing Miss Ellerby and Miss Daverill to enter first. Whatever it was, the sight of her set Aubranael’s troubled heart leaping with delight.

She met his gaze, and her sunny smile did not falter.

Miss Adair continued to hover, and he realised he had made no reply to her daring sally. He looked back at her, and smiled. ‘That is the greatest coincidence,’ he said slowly, ‘for I, too, have been saving the first dances for one lady in particular.’

Miss Adair’s smile grew satisfied, and she somehow summoned a becoming blush to grace her pretty cheeks. But before she could celebrate what she believed to be her victory, he bowed and said: ‘Would you excuse me?’

He walked away without looking back, hoping that he had released himself from her tiresome attentions. He had been rude, he knew that, but he felt that she deserved it. She had probably never received such a set-down before; it was long overdue.

Her mother, Mrs. Adair, was standing not far away. He made his way towards her as quickly as he could, his heart hammering with anticipation. It was time at long last to be formally introduced to Miss Landon.

***

Sophy entered the ballroom with the displeasing consciousness of being disgracefully late.

The problem had occurred because of the Ellerby family’s generosity. They had undertaken to convey both herself and Anne to the ball, along with themselves and their own children. Some little misunderstanding as to times and places had occurred somewhere along the way, and several little delays had amounted to a rather large one in total. She felt a flicker of embarrassment at seeing the ballroom already crowded with guests, some of them forming up into a set ready to begin dancing.

Her discomfort soon faded, however, in the pleasure of being at a ball. That she had seriously considered declining the invitation was a source of wonder to her now, for the delights of a ball could still enchant her—no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise. She lived in such a small way, with so many little trials and troubles to reason away each day—not to mention the large question of her future hanging upon her—that some manner of distraction and delight was absolutely necessary to her happiness. But they did not occur very often.

For a moment, she could not remember why she had been tempted to decline the invitation. Then her gaze fell on Mr. Stanton, standing near the door, and she remembered.

Some oddity about his behaviour, yes; that strange look he had given her when they had passed in the street. But now he stood not far away from her, looking (she must admit) extremely handsome in his evening attire, a rather grave expression upon his face. His friend and joint guest of honour, Mr. Green, was holding court among a gaggle of young women, smiling in high enjoyment and looking ready to dance at least the entire night away, if not more. Mr. Stanton, on the other hand, somehow contrived to be completely oblivious to the attention he was receiving, and the many looks cast his way. He caught no one’s eye—until he suddenly looked up and caught hers. It was a fleeting glance, for he almost immediately turned away; but during those brief few seconds his face lit up with a smile of such warmth and delight that Sophy felt a little shocked.

He could not have been thinking of her, she immediately decided. Indeed, he had turned back to Miss Adair, who was lingering nearby. Doubtless he would ask the prettier lady to dance.

But he merely said something very brief to the lady, made her a stiff bow, and walked away entirely.

Sophy was considerably puzzled, but the peculiarity of this behaviour soon slipped from her mind. She was caught up in a little bustle as two gentlemen arrived at once to claim Isabel for the first dance. Her friend departed with one, leaving the other to ask Anne, and Sophy was left alone.

Only briefly, however, for Mrs. Adair approached her immediately afterwards. The hostess of the evening was looking splendid and elegant in ivory silk, her gown sewn over with seed pearls and her shining hair partially covered with a lace cap much finer than Sophy’s. She was still an extremely handsome woman, Sophy thought, eyeing her with a little uneasiness. Mr. Stanton was following directly behind her; what could they possibly want?