Page 29 of Lady Mary's May Day Mischief
How she got through the afternoon, Mary had no idea. She smiled and applauded the young village girls who pranced about the green in their pretty pale gowns, their colorful hair ribbons a trail of rainbows. When they took the ends of the wide ribbons attached to the top of the rough-hewn pole, a ten-foot tall oak the men had cut down from the nearby copse, they were sprites of spring. The smaller children sang simple songs welcoming bright hope of coming harvests, and took their own turns winding the ribbons round the trunk while minstrels played in the streets. Men of the village followed in a parade, bells sewn on their padded shins, in rhythm to the music of drummers and flutists. The music was gay, some of it—said many villagers in the lanes—old as Queen Bess. The beer and ale flowed.
The sky opened now and again in a downpour, straight as needles to the ground. And stopped in a minute only to return a third time. The rain was enough to refresh everyone but not to discourage them all to return home.
The clock in the tower headed for half one o’clock when Blake appeared at her side. They’d stood side by side for a few minutes as the mummers danced past them, but then Blake had gone off to talk to Lord Courtland and she, to talk with Grace. Still she kept him in view. In his navy frock coat and green waistcoat and buff breeches, he was mouthwateringly handsome. She pondered what it would feel like to dance in his embrace again. And forever more. To dance as other women did with confidence in their style. With confidence that the man who held her wanted her there for all the days to come. Tonight, might she risk believing in those possibilities?
“I’m returning to the Hall,” he said, his voice low. “I’d love for you to come with me, but we would set everyone to talk.”
“Our conversation this morning at the piano was enough.”
“Not for me,” he said and wiggled his brows.
“Go!”
She counted the minutes after he’d gone. She had to follow soon, because she worried. Not about him. No, never. But Fifi had never arrived. Nor had Esme. Or Charlton.
“I’m returning to the Hall.” She told Ivy and Grace.
“I’ll go with you,” Ivy said. When they were on the path, she offered her apologies. “I didn’t intend to be so mean. Forgive me.”
“I will admit I found your views…interesting.”
“You think me a witch.”
“Never.”
“I say, may I join you ladies?” Winston was upon them, a smile for Mary and a grin for Ivy.
“We’d like that,” she said to her cousin. And though she knew he returned to the Hall to have the meeting with Northington and Blake, she joked, “Do you return to take a nap, dear sir? You must be rested to dance with us tonight.”
“I plan on many dances. With each of you, I hope.”
* * *
Mary descended the grand staircase, her new ball gown of thin India muslin, flounced with rich Chantilly lace and satin tucks, swishing round her new white kid shoes. Tonight she imagined herself appealing. Never had she done so before. Blake was responsible for that and her fluttering heart picked up a pace as she reached the bottom of the stairs and caught appreciative looks from a few gentlemen. If Blake insisted she dance with him, she was prepared to show off her flair for contemporary fashion, if not her agility on the floor.
Her anticipation battled with her fears for Fifi. Welles had assured her as she dressed Mary’s hair that Fifi was well, but wanted no visits from Mary. She honored her friend’s wishes, but worried that Fifi was cutting herself off from friendship in an hour of need. Unable to contain her curiosity, she’d asked if Welles knew anything about Esme after her meeting with Fifi. Welles told her that neither young lady had appeared downstairs since their meeting this morning.
“But Fifi comes to the ball, doesn’t she?” Mary feared she’d sit in her room all night. Alone, too.
“She does. She says I am to see to all your needs first.”
“Kind of her.”
“It is.” Welles avoided Mary’s gaze.
“She doesn’t want you to talk about her, does she?”
“No, my lady.”
Mary nodded, unhappy at that. Did Fifi not trust her? Millicent didn’t and with good reason.“I won’t attempt to change her mind.”
Welles gave her a small smile that revealed vast relief.
Mary had left her room, having told herself she’d done what she could for her friend. And now, she must focus on what to do about her own desires for Blake Lindsey.
* * *
Tonight the guests in the house gathered for champagne before the footmen opened the ballroom doors. Lady Courtland had come round to each of them during the village celebrations to tell them that they’d hold no receiving line. “We shall not be so formal to do that. But my husband and I will open the ball ourselves with a few of our friends. A country dance for four, I think. Do join in. We shall introduce our Esme and her fiancé for the next set.”
