Miss Landon and Aubranael (Tales of Aylfenhame Book 1) Read online

  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?

  ‘Miss Landon,’ said Mrs. Adair, her tone slightly stiff.

  Sophy made her a curtsey, still mystified.

  ‘Mr. Stanton has requested the honour of an introduction,’ she said, sounding none too pleased about it—and no wonder, if the gentleman had ignored her daughter in favour of Sophy.

  She made no objection, of course—covering her surprise, she thought, very creditably. The introduction was
swiftly performed, and Mrs. Adair as swiftly withdrew. Mr. Stanton did not so much as glance at his hostess’s retreating form, dismissing her as thoroughly as he had dismissed her daughter moments before.

  But there was no pride or arrogance in his manner. He seemed so entirely unconscious of wrongdoing, as though he had ignored and dismissed them simply because they were unimportant to him. Unimportant! Whereas she, Sophia Landon, somehow ranked as important enough for him to request an introduction.

  He gave her another of those warm smiles, held out a hand to her and said:

  ‘It is the greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, Miss Landon. Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?’

  Sophy felt too much surprise to venture any ready response. She blinked stupidly at his handsome face, certain she must be misunderstanding the moment somehow.

  Propriety obliged him to open the ball with the daughter of his hosts, if she wished it, and she clearly did. And given that the lady in question was beautiful, rich and generally considered charming, it could be no hardship to do so.

  Instead he had requested an introduction to one of the least worthy females in the room, and actually wished to dance with her! The all-important first dances, too! Nothing had prepared her for this singular experience; she had shrugged off all of Anne’s hints and predictions without a moment’s thought, as being far too ridiculous for serious contemplation.

  Yet, here it was. So unused was she to being seriously solicited for a dance—let alone by one of the handsomest and most sought-after gentlemen in the room—that she had no idea what to say. She ought to refuse, she knew, for he and his first dances belonged by right to Miss Adair. But her refusal would not make him any more likely to choose instead a woman whom he plainly did not wish to dance with. Besides, that wonderful smile was back as he waited for her reply. How could she resist an invitation delivered with so much warmth, so much apparent delight in her company? Unaccountable as it was, she could not resist. She accepted, and tried not to be conscious of the attention she was receiving as Mr. Stanton led her into the set. Much of it would not be in her favour, she knew; her neighbours must marvel as much as she had at her good fortune. She put it from her mind.

  Mr. Stanton took his place opposite to her and bowed. His smile had faded, but he continued to look at her with a kind of happy delight that was impossible to explain. She arched a brow at him, and said: ‘You appear to me to be in a state of uncommon enjoyment, Mr. Stanton. Do you love a ball so very much?’

  ‘I do, indeed!’ he replied. ‘Especially this one. It is already my very favourite above all others. And it is a long time since I had the pleasure of dancing.’

  ‘Your favourite, indeed? You enjoy being a guest of honour, and the knowledge that all this splendour and gaiety is for your entertainment.’

  Mr. Stanton appeared to be giving her flippant remark some serious consideration. ‘No, I do not think that is the reason,’ he said, with a twinkle in his eye that she knew not how to interpret. ‘Though I believe you have described my friend’s feelings perfectly.’

  Sophy glanced up to the top of the set. Mr. Green had stepped into his friend’s place and asked Miss Adair, and the two were just beginning to go down the dance. Once again, he struck her as being as fully sensible of the attention he was receiving as her own partner was oblivious to it. He played to it, making a fine show, and Miss Adair followed his lead with only an occasional piqued glance at Mr. Stanton and Sophy.

  ‘How obliging of him to take responsibility for some of the more onerous duties,’ she said.

  He cast her a look of keen appreciation and replied, with a swift grin: ‘Oh, he is the most obliging of fellows.’

  ‘You, however, are not very obliging at all.’

  ‘I am known to be, on occasion.’ He paused, and smiled. ‘This is not one of those occasions.’

  ‘You are resolved upon being entirely selfish, I collect.’

  ‘Entirely, thoroughly selfish, I admit.’

  A faint, sardonic smile crossed her face. ‘Some might say that this is the one occasion, above all others, when you ought to be unselfish and obliging, and do as the company expects.’

  ‘Not at all, for if I had been more obliging I would have lost the opportunity of securing the most desirable partner in the room for the first dances. This is full reason enough to be selfish, you must agree.’

  This was far too much. No degree of eccentricity could explain his finding her the most desirable partner in the room, especially on no acquaintance at all. This sort of flattery made sense when it was directed at the enchanting countenances of Miss Adair, or the younger Miss Winbolt, or even Isabel. It could only sound fatuous when directed at Sophy herself.

  ‘You have given that honour away to your friend,’ Sophy said pointedly, hoping to recall him to sense.

  He refused to understand her, saying instead: ‘I was speaking of you, Miss Landon.’

  She coloured, feeling more uncomfortable than charmed. ‘You mock me!’ she accused.

  His brows rose and his eyes widened with every appearance of surprise. ‘No indeed! How can you suppose it?’

  Sophy was not inclined to reply to this. To be forced to enumerate her shortcomings was an intolerable prospect. Besides, to do so was to court further flattery, as politeness would oblige him to contradict every point she might advance. Her pride revolted on both counts, particularly since he must be perfectly well aware of the grave differences between a Miss Landon and a Miss Adair. He was merely being charming, in his odd way, seeking perhaps to put her at her ease. However well-meant she judged it to be, she would not humour him by going along with it.

  Fortunately, it was now their turn to go down the dance, and conversation must be over for the present. She put all thought of Mr. Stanton’s peculiarities out of her mind, anxious to acquit herself well under the scrutiny she was receiving from those who were not themselves dancing.

  And something else occurred to drive the thoughts from her mind. She had not anticipated what it would be like to dance with Mr. Stanton. She could not remember another occasion in her life when she had been so particularly solicited as a partner; she could not recall when she had ever danced with someone who seemed so sincerely desirous of dancing with her. Gentlemen had danced with her out of politeness only, or perhaps out of pity, both of which were intolerable. It was this circumstance that had led her to adopt the role of matron, as soon as she had felt herself old enough to carry it off; the caps she wore, and her habit of placing herself with the mothers and older spinsters in a ballroom, had for the last year or so excused the young gentlemen of Tilby from the tiresome duty of dancing with her.

  She had never experienced anything like this. When their hands met for the first time, she felt a frisson of excitement that took her wholly by surprise. Their eyes met, and she found that his betrayed a surprise, a pleasure, a degree of shock that mirrored her own.

  Throughout the dance, he watched Sophy with the intentness of a man who was very much interested, and treated her not only with perfect courtesy but also with the kind of particularity she had seen bestowed upon others, but never upon herself.

  And she found that she was far from indifferent to Mr. Stanton. She knew not how to explain it: perhaps it was merely the experience of being sought-after that had turned her head, or perhaps it was his extreme handsomeness. Perhaps it was even something else entirely, some indefinable characteristic of his, or combination of qualities that shone through his behaviour; for she felt interested in him. She wanted to know more of him—his tastes, his opinions, his ideas, his pursuits—and she heartily welcomed that beautiful smile which was, once more, shining down upon her.

  Somewhere in the midst of this whirl of emotions, she found a moment to observe that Mr. Stanton danced uncommonly well, with a grace she did not often see. There was a hint of peculiarity about the way he formed the steps, as if he had learned from an unusual source. Perhaps he had been in France.

  Wh
en their part in the dance was over, they returned to the set and stood in silence for some minutes. Sophy’s mind was too full of what had just occurred; the power of speech eluded her altogether, her thoughts too distracted by the racing of her heart, and the flutter of nerves and excitement in her stomach. She regretted that Mr. Stanton had now returned to a more proper distance; she missed the closeness that the dance had briefly rendered allowable.

  What occupied Mr. Stanton’s thoughts, she could not tell, and she did not dare to venture a guess. He remained as silent as herself, only looking at her with an indescribable expression on his face.

  At length, she found her voice. ‘Have you travelled much, Mr. Stanton?’ It was an insipid enquiry, but it would do for the present.

  He looked a little startled at the suddenness of her question, but replied readily enough. ‘Why, yes. I suppose you could say that.’

  ‘Now! That makes me quite envious, for I have never travelled anywhere. Perhaps you will be obliging for just a few moments—no longer, I assure you, I have no wish to strain your good nature—and tell me a tale or two.’

  His eyes sparkled with amusement at her small—very small—piece of wit, but he shook his head. ‘I cannot believe that you have not travelled at all. Perhaps you have not seen France or Italy, but you must have been somewhere beyond the borders of England. Now, have not you?’

  Sophy’s thoughts turned instantly to Aylfenhame and the village of Grenlowe. This was not an experience she wished to share with a stranger, however, and since Mr. Stanton could not possibly know of it she felt no hesitation in saying: ‘No, indeed, I assure you. It is among my greatest regrets, for I should so like to see more of the world.’

  He eyed her thoughtfully, and made no reply.

  The rest of the dance passed off with no more than commonplace remarks on her side, and his; but she felt that a certain tension persisted between them, lending unusual significance to the familiar motions of the dance. The moment the end of the second dance released them from each other, he immediately bowed and said, ‘Will you do me the honour of dancing the next with me, Miss Landon?’