Mr. Rivenhall arrived from the country just as two men in shirt sleeves and leather breeches were erecting an awning across the flagway to the road and another, wearing a baize apron, laying a red carpet down the steps, under Dassett’s lofty supervision. Inside the house, Mr. Rivenhall almost collided with a footman, staggering in the direction of the ballroom with a gigantic potted palm clasped to his bosom, and avoided him only to be faintly screamed at by the housekeeper, who was carrying a pile of the best table damask to the dining room. Dassett, who had followed Mr. Rivenhall into the house, informed him, with satisfaction, that they would sit down thirty to dinner at eight o’clock. He added that her ladyship was laid down upon her bed in preparation for the revels, and that his lordship had personally selected the wines to be served at dinner. Mr. Rivenhall, who seemed to be resigned rather than delighted, nodded, and asked whether any letters awaited him.
“No, sir,” replied Dassett. “I should mention that the band of the Scots Grays will play during supper, Miss Sophy being acquainted with the Colonel, who will be amongst the dinner guests. A vast improvement, if I may say so, sir, on the Pandean pipes, which have become quite common since we had them for Miss Cecilia’s ball last year. Miss Sophy, I venture to say, is a lady as knows precisely how things should be done. A great pleasure, if I may be pardoned the liberty, to work for Miss Sophy, for she thinks of everything, and I fancy there will be no hitch to mar the festivities.”
Mr. Rivenhall grunted and went off to his own apartments. When he next appeared, it was to join the rest of his family in the drawing room a few minutes only before eight o’clock. His two youngest sisters, who were deriving much entertainment from hanging over the bannisters of the staircase leading to the schoolroom floor, informed him in penetrating whispers that he looked so smart they could not believe that there would be any other gentleman to rival him. He looked up, laughing, for although he had a good figure, and was dressed with propriety in black satin knee breeches, a white waistcoat, striped stockings, and a waisted coat with very long tails, he knew that he would be sartorially outshone by half the male guests. But his little sisters’ wholehearted admiration certainly softened his mood, and after promising faithfully to send a servant up to the schoolroom with ices later on, he went on to the drawing room, and was even able to bring himself to compliment his sister and cousin on their gowns.
Sophy had chosen a dress of her favorite pomona-green crape, which she wore over a slip of white satin. It had tiny puff sleeves of lace and seed pearls and was lavishly trimmed with lace. Particularly fine diamond drops hung from her ears; her pearl necklace was clasped round her throat; and an opera comb was set behind the elaborate knot of hair on the crown of her head. Jane Storridge had brushed and pomaded her side curls until they glowed richly chestnut in the candlelight. Green-striped satin slippers, long gloves, and a fan of frosted crape on ivory sticks completed her toilet.
Lady Ombersley, while approving of this striking ensemble, could not forbear gazing at Cecilia with eyes misty with maternal pride. All the youth and beauty of the Upper Ten Thousand would be present at her ball tonight, she reflected, in a large-minded spirit, but there was not a girl among them who would not be cast into the shade by Cecilia, a dream princess in white spider gauze, glinting a little when she moved, and the light caught the silver acorns embroidered on the delicate material. Cecilia’s curls, with only a silver ribbon threaded through them, were like spun gold; her eyes a clear, translucent blue; her mouth a perfect bow. Beside Sophy she seemed ethereal; her father, surveying her with easy affection, said she made him think of a fairy — Queen Mab, or Titania, was it? He needed Eugenia Wraxton to set him right.
He was to have her. Miss Wraxton, after prolonged consideration, had decided to attend Sophy’s ball, gaining her mama’s consent by assuring her that she should certainly not take part in any dancing. She was the first of the dinner guests to arrive, and was attended by her brother Alfred, who ogled Cecilia and Sophy through his quizzing glass, paying them such extravagant compliments as to bring a faint flush to Cecilia’s cheeks, and a darkling look into Sophy’s eyes. Miss Wraxton, who was attired in discreet lavender crape, had come determined to be pleased, and even complimented the cousins on their appearance. Her remarks, however, were in far better taste, and won a warm look from Charles. At the first opportunity, he engaged her [ attention, going over to put a chair for her, and saying, “I had not dared to hope that you would be present tonight Thank you!”
She smiled, and pressed his hand slightly. “Mama did not quite like it, but she agreed that it would be proper for me to come, in the circumstances. I shall not dance, I need hardly say.”
“I am delighted to hear it; you present me with a capital excuse for following your example!”
She looked gratified, but said: “No, no, you are to do your duty, Charles! I insist upon it!”
“The Marquesa de Villacañas!” announced Dassett.