the first floor. ‘His lordship is in the Cedar Room,’ said the footman, and flung open the double doors.
Belinda hesitated nervously in the doorway until Hannah gave her a little push.
The Cedar Room was enormous. The cedar-wood panelling which gave it its name was hung with family portraits. Huge chandeliers hung from the ornately designed ceiling. There was a large Adam fireplace in the centre of the opposite wall, and a French carpet covered the floor.
Huge windows had thick velvet curtains with heavy swags of fringe drawn against the winter’s night. The gigantic area of the room was dotted about with little islands of tables and chairs.
At the island nearest the fireplace sat a very beautiful lady and a middle-aged couple.
The marquess was standing by the fireplace. He was wearing an evening coat of dark-blue watered silk with a high collar and a ruffled shirt. His breeches of the same material were fastened at the knee with gold buckles. His silk stockings were of gold-and-white stripes and his black shoes had gold buckles. He had a fine sapphire in the snowy folds of his cravat and a large square sapphire ring on his finger.
Hannah shot a covert glance at Belinda and was glad that young lady was looking every bit as finely dressed as the marquess’s guests.
She was wearing a gown of pale lilac satin and a fine necklace of amethysts set in old gold. She had lilac silk heelless slippers to match with ribbons crossed across the ankles, and, on her arms, long gloves of lilac kid. Hannah had put on a fine and delicate muslin cap. She knew the Norfolk shawl about her shoulders was of the finest quality, as was her plum-coloured silk gown with matching silk gloves.
The marquess approached Belinda and Hannah, his eyes narrowing a little in surprise, for there was no denying the richness of the ladies’ gowns. He wondered briefly what they had been doing travelling on the stage.
He introduced them to Miss Penelope Jordan and her parents. Mr and Mrs Judd made their entrance, Mrs Judd clinging tightly to her husband’s arm. Belinda saw a mocking smile curving Penelope’s lips and the teasing look she threw the marquess as if to say, ‘My dear, what people!’
All in that moment, Belinda found herself disliking Penelope very much indeed.
The Judds were plainly and respectably dressed. But Mrs Judd’s gown was of an old-fashioned cut and Mr Judd was in morning dress, not having brought any evening dress with him, which, thought Belinda crossly, was perfectly understandable. She flashed a contemptuous look at Penelope and then realized the marquess was watching her and blushed faintly.
A butler and two footmen entered bearing trays of hot negus for the ladies and decanters of wine for the men.
All sat down on chairs arranged for them in a circle in front of the fire. Belinda sipped her negus and covertly studied the Jordans. Sir Henry Jordan was fat and florid with a jovial manner belied by the hardness of a pair of small brown eyes. Lady Jordan showed traces of an earlier beauty in thick, luxuriant, if grey-streaked hair, a statuesque figure, and large brown eyes. But little lines of discontent had caused her mouth to set in a permanent droop and two heavy vertical lines caused by frowning marred her forehead.
‘Why are you travelling on the stage, Miss Earle?’ demanded Penelope, her eyes flicking over the splendour of Belinda’s gown.
‘To get to The Bath,’ said Belinda calmly.
‘I would have thought you would have preferred to travel in your own carriage,’ pursued Penelope.
Seized with a mischievous desire to lower her social status to that of the Judds, Belinda said airily, ‘My family do not own a carriage.’ She turned to the marquess. ‘All my concern is for Miss Wimple, my poor companion.’
‘I have told the physician to return within the hour,’ said the marquess. ‘He will stay here for the night and so be available to help when he is required.’
‘Thank you, my lord. You are so very kind.’ Belinda’s face suddenly lit up in a charming smile. The marquess smiled back, oddly intrigued by this young lady with the wispy-fine slate-coloured hair and the wicked-looking sensual mouth.
‘You have a very fine place here, my lord,’ said Mr Judd nervously.
‘It’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, hey?’ said Sir Henry, all mock joviality. ‘I wager you never thought, considering your social station, to be the guest of an earl.’
Belinda winced and Hannah’s lips clamped tightly together in disapproval. How quaint, thought Penelope, amused. These upstarts of the stage-coach actually consider that Papa is being vulgar. But then she saw the chilly, calculating way in which the marquess was regarding her father and felt a stab of unease.
The marquess rose to escort them to supper. Penelope’s feeling of unease grew, for the marquess placed Belinda on his right hand and Hannah on his left. Moreover, the long dining-table had been replaced by a round one. The marquess had not liked the way Penelope had automatically taken the opposite end of the long table from him as if she were already established as his wife, and so had ordered the round table and had had it delivered that very day.
Penelope’s beautiful eyes narrowed as they surveyed Belinda. There was something definitely odd about that young woman. Her arrival on the scene seemed just too opportune. Perhaps she had engineered the accident, thought Penelope pettishly, not stopping to consider that the idea of any young lady causing a coach to crash down in an icy river in the faint hope that the marquess would come riding by was stupid in the extreme.
Penelope had been told from her earliest days that she was beautiful beyond compare. She had practised a certain elegance of manner but had stopped there at improvement, considering her looks enough to contribute to any company.
Belinda, on the other hand, had assiduously practised the art of conversation to make up for what she felt was her own lack of attractions. She turned to the marquess and began to speak.
3
Alexander Pope
‘It is most generous of you, my lord,’ said Belinda, ‘to provide us with shelter and accommodation.’
‘My pleasure, I assure you, Miss Earle. Do you reside with family in The Bath?’
‘I am to stay with Great-Aunt Harriet.’
‘And shall you make your come-out there?’
‘I have already made my come-out, my lord, at the last Season. I am now going “in” again.’
He looked at her curiously. ‘And why is that?’ Belinda hesitated while vermicelli soup was served. She was aware of Penelope’s eyes resting on her, and somehow aware that Penelope’s shell-like ears were straining to catch every syllable. She must not tell this marquess or anyone about the footman. Who would understand, except perhaps someone like the odd Miss Pym? To say one had run away with a footman suggested a world of unladylike passion. ‘I did not take,’ she said calmly. ‘I am lucky to be only travelling as far as The Bath. I could just as well have been sent to India or to some battlefront in hope that my not-too-obvious charms might catch the eye of a homesick member of the East India Company or some war-weary soldier.’
‘You are very frank,’ commented the marquess, feeling sure he should disapprove of any lady who openly ran down her own attractions and appearance, and yet finding in himself an odd desire to instil some much-needed vanity into Miss Earle. ‘You should not disparage yourself,’ he pointed out. ‘People will take you at your own valuation. If you go about saying openly, “I am not attractive,” then you will, I may say, find that people think you so. Which would be a pity.’
‘How so?’ demanded Belinda, her eyes dancing.
‘They might then fail to notice that your figure is good and your eyes very fine.’
Belinda should have blushed and lowered her eyes. Instead she looked at him in open gratitude. ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked. Then her face fell. ‘But of course you do not. You are merely flirting with me as a matter of form.’
