Page 31 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
An idea had spawned from the moment she had seen how Noah had rushed to Lady Emmeline’s ‘rescue’ in the picnic lunch. It had grown quietly in the back of her mind until it was now fully formed. It only needed to be placed in action.
Chapter 9
A Daring Plan
The days were winding down for the merry party at Bexley Manor. As one of the premier hostesses of theton,Lady Bexley was all a flurry in making the last day in her grandiose home one to be remembered.
The ball for that night was to be spectacular. The ballroom was lit with hundreds of beeswax candles, their light shimmering over the white, blue, and golden silken draperies softening the windows.
In the refreshment room, delicate glass sculptures procured specially for this event, reflected the twinkling light from the many wall sconces. A stunning gilded tea service, bespoke for Lady Bexley, made its debut in a place on honor on the central table.
Admiring matrons surreptitiously turned the cups over, looking for the maker’s mark, then gently, reverently, set them back down. Side tables were filled with such delectables as smoked salmon, cherry and strawberry preserves, crisp crackers, and chutneys to pair with the many types of meat and various cheeses.
Emmeline, dressed in a deep-green satin gown, so dark its graceful folds appeared black, with white gloves and black satin dancing slippers, was standing on the staircase landing, looking on. Her hair was coiffed beautifully with a single small white rose in her golden-brown locks.
Despite all the gaiety around her, she was unsurprisingly melancholy. This night was the last time she could be near Noah, as the moment the dance was over at dawn, she would sleep and wake to find him gone–back to his home at Newberry Manor, and she to Leverton. This night was all she was going to have with the man who had captured her heart.
“Are you all right, Lady Emmeline?” Lady Bexley asked with a frown on her face. The Countess was garbed in a stunning gown with an overlay of white lace that had an all-over pattern of embroidered white flowers, with a silk underskirt of blossom pink, with a matching pink, wide ribbon crossing under the softly-gathered bodice. Her arms were gloved in white while she carried a folded fan in her left hand.
“I am,” Emmeline managed to reply with a forced smile, “I am just marveling at your wonderful display, Lady Bexley.”
“Oh, it is, isn’t it!” the lady nodded while fluttering her fan. “I have arranged for the best as it was our last night. The band is already situated and just waiting for me to sanction it. I’d be delighted if you would accompany me to the ballroom.”
“Of course, Madam,” Emmeline said, as she gently lifted her skirts and descended the staircase with the Lady of the Manor in step. They entered the antechamber where the guests were mingling. Ladies, dressed in their best gowns, holding elaborate fans, and wearing striking jewels, were chatting with the dapper gentlemen assembled.
Trying not to be too obvious, Emmeline searched for Noah but couldn’t find him in the throng of black-clad men with luxurious dress coats and sterling white cravats. The foyer was as luxuriously decorated as the ballroom. Passing the refreshment room, Emmeline eyed the sumptuous display of delicate buttery biscuits, beautifully-decorated cakes, colorful bonbons, spiced shortbread, and endless variety of fragrant morsels to nibble.
Inside the ballroom, Emmeline bade goodbye to the Lady Bexley and sought out her aunt, Lady Alford, who was standing to one side. Silently, Emmeline made her way over while skirting the chalked ground of the dancefloor.
“Aunt,” Emmeline greeted softly.
“Oh dear,” Lady Alford smiled, “I was just looking for you. Here is your card, Emmeline. I’ve approved all your partners, but I am a bit perplexed as to why the Duke of Newberry hasn’t petitioned a dance with you.”
Glancing at the card, Emmeline confirmed that her aunt was right–Noah’s name was not on it.
The call for the ladies and gentlemen to take places for the first dance was issued through the room, and Emmeline kissed her aunt on the cheek and moved to the floor. As the daughter of a Duke, she was near the top of the line but several of the older ladies outranked her.
When everyone was lined up, and only then, the musicians, seated on the balcony above and the stair landings, began to play. Emmeline noted the Duchess of Newberry at the edge of the dining hall, in a bronze gown and black gloves, before the music started. Lady Bexley, as the hostess, led the dance, with a middle-aged Duke, who Emmeline vaguely remembered hearing might be related to the Bexley’s by marriage, while her son, Lord Bexley, was next in the line with his partner.
Lord Bexley danced down the line, and eventually became Lady Emmeline’s partner. He was a good dancer, but the moment their hands touched, Emmeline found herself wishing it was Noah.
“You have a graceful step, My Lady,” Lord Bexley said quietly, as they turned, “though I ascertain that your mind is somewhere else.”
Emmeline tried to smile, but her expression was strained at the edges. There was no point in lying to him as he was right, “Your perception is not wrong, My Lord. I find myself double minded at this hour.”
“And I think I know what is the cause of your uncertainty. I have told him that this enmity between your family and his is an extinct one,” Lord Bexley replied soberly. “It has its place in the annals of history, My Lady, and one would be foolish to continue it.”
“I am grateful you think so, My Lord,” Emmeline sighed, “but if I could change it, I would have the power to rule the weather.”
“Nothing is impossible, My Lady,” the Earl replied. “The Devil may roll dice, but God is the author of destiny.”
Their turn together came to an end and then Lord Bexley ducked his head to whisper quickly in her ear, “I am tasked to tell you that he will meet you this night. Go to the powder room at the end of the hall.”
When the dance finally ended, Emmeline, after curtseying, stood there with soft trembling under her skin. The dances were staged several minutes apart to allow the servants to circulate among the dancers with trays of punch or champagne, and for the gentlemen to find their next dancing partners. Ladies would hasten to the retiring room to have loose hems fixed, or to tame escaped wisps of hair set free by the energetic dancing.
Emmeline was so nervous that she couldn’t swallow a mouthful of the punch, fortified with brandy, rum, and wine. The second dance, a cotillion, took place. She was partnered with Viscount Connelly, a bachelor who owned large wineries in the south of the country. His conversation was easy, commenting on the extent of the Countess’ preparations, to produce such an elegant ball.
When the quadrille came about, Emmeline was nervous to the point she found herself biting her lip in an unladylike fashion. Seeing it, Lady Alford slapped her with her fan in a wordless rebuke.
