Fenella Miller - A Country Mouse

At last Emily and her mother were making their curtsey. Lady Galveston greeted them with unrestrained delight. Much kissing of cheeks and exclaiming took place before they were sent on their way to join the milling crowd thronging the Grand Salon. Lady Althea sailed ahead, the ostrich feathers in her head waving gaily.

“We shall sit here, my love, close to the dance floor.” A lovely blonde girl sitting demurely on a chair next to her own mama smiled a welcome.

Emily smiled back. “I am Emily Gibson; this is my very first ball.” Her neighbour glanced to her mother for permission before answering.

“I am Maria Fitzwilliam. I came out this summer, and this is only the third ball I have attended.”

Lady Althea nodded to Mrs Fitzwilliam and she nodded back. Contact established the older woman settled down for a comfortable coze. The Fitzwilliam's were an excellent family and extremely well-connected. Edwards disappeared, discreetly, with their cloaks and Emily's spare slippers.

A footman approached with a tray of champagne, followed closely by one with a tray of orgeat. The trays appeared identical. With a grin at her new friend Emily daringly selected champagne, Maria sensibly took the non-alcoholic beverage.

Maria spotted Emily's engagement ring. Long gloves were de rigueur but it was permissible to have them finishing at the knuckles if one so wished.

“Miss Gibson, you are betrothed. How lucky you are. I have still to find anyone remotely suitable.”

Lady Althea smiled at her disingenuous remark. “Viscount Yardley is an excellent match. My father, the Earl of Westerham, is delighted that his heir is to marry his granddaughter.”

Maria was suitably impressed and Mrs Fitzwilliam as delighted as their hostess that such a lovely young heiress was already off the marriage mart.

“Are you expecting Viscount Yardley to attend tonight?” Maria inquired politely.

“No; I believe he is otherwise engaged. He is a diplomat and his time is not his own.” Lady Althea answered.

Emily sipped her drink, enjoying the way the bubbles tickled her nose. It tasted delicious, cold and crisp. She took a large swallow and to her astonishment her world appeared to tilt alarmingly. Could it be her injury or this innocuous looking drink?

An ungloved, male hand, reached over and removed the glass from her grasp. “I believe, my love, that you have mistakenly selected champagne.”

Her eyes flew up to meet the amused gaze of her fiancé. She was about to protest when a warning in his eyes made her swallow the words. She smiled ruefully as he pulled her to her feet.

“I did not expect to see you here tonight, Sebastian, but I am pleased, of course, that you have come.”

All four women were now on their feet. He bowed deeply to Lady Althea. “I am delighted to see you looking so well, Lady Althea. It is quite clear from whom your daughter has inherited her beauty.”

Lady Althea simpered and quite forgot she did not like her great-nephew. “Allow me to introduce Mrs Fitzwilliam and her daughter, Miss Fitzwilliam, to you, my lord.”

He bowed to Mrs Fitzwilliam and nodded and smiled at Maria. “I believe the first set is forming, shall we go, my dear?”

Emily was given no choice in the matter, but was whisked away down the ballroom to join the other couples. She was not usually lost for words, but this handsome man, resplendent in full evening rig, his blonde hair shining, his cravat falling in snowy folds, held in place by a single emerald pin, was like a stranger. A very attractive stranger.

She had seen him in his riding gear and in his country evening apparel but dressed as he was, in black, he looked magnificent. Every debutante's dream, a real-life Prince Charming. Then she recalled that scarcely three days before he had knocked her unconscious and she still had the bruise to prove it.

She attempted to snatch her arm from his but his grip tightened. He bent his mouth to whisper in her ear, to onlookers it appeared merely the gesture of a man besotted, but they could not hear his words.

“You will not cause a scene here, Emily. You are a child no longer, it would do you good to remember that.”

She tried a second time, more subtly, to remove her hand. “I will not stand up with you and neither will I marry you. You're an unspeakable brute,” she hissed.

“If you persist in this nonsense you will see just how much of a brute I can be, my girl. Now, behave yourself. This is not the time for such discussions.”

“Then when? I promise you, I will not dance until I have an answer I am satisfied with.”

“We will talk later on the terrace, after this dance is finished.” Her resistance ceased and with a false smiled pinned to her face she allowed him to guide her to the set. She dipped and curtsied, skipped and galloped when required, outwardly a beautiful young woman enjoying her debut in the company of her fiancé.

Lady Althea watched with a proud smile. She was basking in her daughter's success. Several old acquaintances had drifted over to see her and complemented her on her own appearance. Happy that her daughter was in good hands she accepted an invitation to play a hand of whist in one of the side rooms set aside for that purpose.

Emily allowed her fiancé to lead her from the floor and she was dismayed to find her mother no longer in her appointed place. She was regretting her rash challenge and wished heartily to back out of the promised tête-à-tête. The uncompromising set of Viscount Yardley's shoulders and the grimness of his features did not bode well.

“My mother is not here, sir. I do not have her permission to go out on the terrace.”

“You need no permission; you are under my protection.” He threaded her smartly through the press of people and outside. There were several other couples already there, cooling down after their exertions on the dance floor.

“It's too cold here, I wish to go in again, if you please. I do not want to catch a chill.”

Without a word he swung around and marched her back inside. She could feel the muscles of his forearm tighten. Where was he taking her? Where was her mother? She wriggled her fingers but they were held firm. Then from feeling fearful she was flooded with righteous indignation.

How dare this man drag her, against her will, about the place? Ignoring the two couples standing quietly talking, she flung her weight backwards, taking her captor by surprise. His grip slackened and she was free. Every instinct told her to make good her escape but her anger made her brave.

She stood her ground and stared at Sebastian, icy rage in her eyes. “Enough, sir. I will not be manhandled like this. I will speak with you here, and you will listen.” That four other people were riveted also did not bother her. She removed her ring and held it out. “Here, sir, this I believe, is yours. I want none of it.”

Too astonished to protest he instinctively held out his hand and felt his token drop into his palm. He stared at it in disbelief. By the time he had recovered his ex-fiancé had vanished into the ballroom. How could this have happened? She had made him a laughing stock. Word of his dismissal would already be passing round the gathering like wildfire.

His fists closed and the jewel bit into his palm. He took several deep breaths. His fury burned inside him, but he banked it down. Apparently unconcerned he smiled at the interested spectators, casually slipped the ring into his waistcoat pocket, and sauntered off, as though he had not a care in the world.

No one would have suspected that before the night was out he intended to deal out a punishment to Emily that would necessitate her taking all her meals standing up for the foreseeable future.

In the ballroom Emily was instantly engulfed in a sea of gentlemen all eager to scribble their names on her dance card. She had no intention of honouring these assignations. She wanted to return home, at once, but until she found her mother, she was trapped. Any moment she feared that the man she had just publicly jilted would appear to exact his revenge. 

Emily nodded, dipped and smiled, promising she was to return in a few moments, but always moving steadily away from the double doors that led to the passageway. She hoped she could hide herself in the crowd, but suspected that her vivid green gown and chestnut hair would make her easy to spot.

She found herself in the almost empty receiving hall, all the expected guests having arrived. Lord and Lady Galveston and their daughter Sophia and her fiancé had deserted their post on the stairs that led down to the lower floors and freedom.

Emily hesitated, should she go up or down? Edwards was upstairs waiting; downstairs somewhere she would find the carriage. She made her decision and ran upstairs, her dress held high, exposing far more ankle than was seemly.

A helpful chambermaid appeared at her side and guided her to the rooms in which the ladies could retire and repair the ravages of an evening on the dance floor. On enquiring Emily discovered that all the maids, dressers, and abigails were elsewhere but the girl promised Edwards would be fetched to her immediately.

She felt as if her heart was trying to escape the confines of her bodice; her mouth was dry and intermittent tremors shook her tall, slender frame. The other ladies in the room watched her covertly; like colourful vultures they waited, certain they would be able to pick up some juicy gossip to tell their friends.

The servant's door opened and Edwards hurried in. She had Emily's green and silver cloak over her arm.