Chapter One – The First of Many Balls.It had been a splendid afternoon, filled with late-June sunshine and the excited hubble-bubble of preparations the length and breadth of southern Derbyshire as a new crowd – nay, a new flock! – of young ladypigeons prepared for their first ball of the summer season, a season in which many of them hoped to win themselves a fine young gentleman for a husband, and so secure their, they felt, rightful place in what was no longer entirely the society of humans.
Not one doubted for a second that there would be an equal buzz of activity and anticipation at Fethington House, the very agreeable summer abode of
Miss Isabella Villar, the daughter of – it was rumoured – an exceedingly wealthy Spanish refugee from the terrible ruin of that once glorious country.
None of the young ladypigeons knew much about Miss Isabella, but her fiery red hair was legendary in the county, as was her seething irrational hatred of bonnets of all kinds.
It was rumoured that Miss Isabella had something of a weakness for men in the glorious scarlet of the defenders of the Empire – officers, in short – and
Lady Katherine Montagu, who rather understood such a feeling, hoped that her host would not feel too disappointed at her failure to invite any this evening.
Looking around, Lady Katherine saw no beautiful officers – naval or otherwise.
Instead, she saw
Mr Pinkerton-Smythe, a rather well-known gentleman of about 29, advance towards her, his greasy blonde hair gleaming delightfully in the beautiful chandelier light. He was accompanied by Miss Isabella, who introduced them both.
”Lady Montagu, would you do me the honour of the first dance?”Nearby, another lady,
Miss Elizabeth Feckerby, strode purposefully towards another eligible young man, her arm linked, somehow, in the wing of a delightfully handsome young ladypigeon, who was rather monopolising the admiring gazes of several young – and not-so-young – gentlemen in the room.
”Miss Charlotte,” said Miss Feckerby,
”May I present to you Reverend Halfton? He has a terrible dislike of playing cards, which I recall you mentioned to me earlier, and an equally burning desire to dance with you. But then,” added Miss Feckerby, in a whispered aside,
”I must admit that I rather think several of the more handsome men here do, too...””Miss Fantail,” said Reverend Halfton, his intense blue eyes deep and penetrating under his lovely brown hair,
”Would you do me the honour of the first dance?”Daintily picking at a tray of canapés carried by a passing peasant, two rather handsome ladypigeons -
Lady Meyerschmidt-Cripeton and her new acquaintance
Miss Thain stood in the opposite corner of the ballroom, the one giggling a little nonsensically and the other fervently hoping that she might be able to escape the dreaded test of waltzing the first waltz under the scrutiny of the assembled gentry of southern Derbyshire.
It looked like escape would not be possible.
Two young gentlemen were approaching the pair of pigeons. One, the ladypigeons gossiped to each other, was Mr James Arcy – rumoured to be almost as ridiculously rich as he was stupendously handsome with his beautiful small mouth, and the red-haired Mr Arthur Arbury – a tremendous shot with an amazingly Grecian physique (not, of course, that either ladypigeon was vulgar enough to let this thought pass through their wistful minds) but neither, it had to be said, as rich or as handsome as his particular friend Mr Arcy.
”Lady Meyerschmidt-Cripeton?” said one.
”Miss Thain?” said the other.
”May we trouble you for the honour of the first dance?”Don't hesitate to ask if you don't know what to do. But basically, either engage in small talk (with the gentleman in front of you or someone else, if you want to explore), or accept the dance, or refuse the dance, and we'll see how things go from there. You can also examine your interlocutor more closely, if you wish (to, for example, find out specific things about their physical appearance that I haven't yet described).
Oh yes – don't expect so many or such high quality Illustrations for every turn.