Cinders & Sapphires (At Somerton) Read online

  “Yes—yes, I can’t wait!” Ada forgave herself for lying. It was in a good cause. “I can hardly believe there are only six months to go.”

  “Neither can I,” Charlotte said, looking Ada up and down. “But don’t worry, I’m sure we shall get you ready somehow.”

  Ada and Georgiana looked at each other. Ada had never considered that she might not be ready. The “season” was a round of social visits, balls, parties. She had imagined enduring it, laughing at its frivolity under her breath. She had never imagined that she might not live up to its standards.

  “It really was a little much for your father to expect you to go directly from the jungle to the ballroom,” Charlotte went on in a lower voice. Ada glanced up toward Lord Westlake, but he was scowling at William and did not hear them. “I do pity you. I suppose you have never been at a really smart gathering before.”

  “There is society in India too, you know,” Georgiana said.

  “People, no doubt. But not society.” Charlotte smiled sweetly.

  Fiona raised her lorgnette and examined Ada across the table.

  “Yes, there isn’t much time to prepare you,” she said. “Our first goal must be to secure a sponsor for your presentations at court this spring. Unfortunately I myself cannot perform that duty. I never had the honor of being presented to the monarch. However, I hope to persuade Mrs. Verulam to be kind enough.”

  “That will be such an awful bore,” said Charlotte. “It’s so strange that we have to wear plain white dresses, and no jewels at all.”

  “I thought debutantes were allowed a string of pearls?” Sebastian said.

  “I don’t call pearls jewels,” said Charlotte scornfully.

  Ada, who was wearing her mother’s pearls, blushed and looked at the table. Charlotte could not have meant it unkindly, she told herself.

  “It was an absolute shame to ruin your complexion by exposing it to the sun,” Mrs. Templeton announced, examining Ada through her lorgnette. “And your clothes are quite out of style, but then what can one expect from India? A visit to Worth before the season begins is in order, don’t you think, dear?”

  Charlotte pouted. “Not Worth, Mama, he’s démodé. Poiret is the place to be dressed now. And it isn’t just Ada. I shall need a whole new wardrobe. My ball dresses are very much last season.”

  “Right as always, my dear.” Fiona examined Ada again. “I have been observing you move, and it really will not do. You shall have to have dancing lessons.”

  Ada colored even more. “I can dance,” she protested.

  “Not to the standard required for a state ball. Your movement shows that—there is a certain lack of grace, an energy that men find very unattractive.”

  “Nothing worse than an energetic woman,” murmured Sebastian, giving Ada a sympathetic glance. Ada smiled gratefully. She was beginning to appreciate Sebastian’s presence very much.

  “Oh dear, then I don’t think I shall ever manage to find a husband,” said Georgiana in horror.

  Ada couldn’t help but laugh. “Nonsense, of course you will,” she said.

  “Yes, someone will be prepared to take you off Lord Westlake’s hands eventually,” said Charlotte.

  Ada’s laugh disappeared, and she was suddenly furious. No one should talk to her beloved sister like that!

  “As it happens, I have always thought a cultivated mind more important than a cultivated wardrobe,” she retorted.

  “Oh goodness, you don’t mean to tell me you’re one of those suffragettes?” Charlotte recoiled.

  “I believe in women’s right to vote, if that’s what you mean.” Ada looked firmly back at her.

  Fiona looked down her nose at Ada. “Well, may I beg you not to admit to anything so vulgar when we are in company, my dear?” she said. “No man likes a bluestocking.”

  “Bluestocking, you say?” William brayed from the other end of the table. He was swaying slightly and he had spilled red wine on the tablecloth. “I remember that of you, Ada. Always with your beak in a book.”

  Ada did not know where to look—not because she was embarrassed about being a reader, but because she was ashamed of William’s obvious drunkenness. He did not seem to have noticed her father’s expression of anger and contempt or Sebastian’s sarcastic smile. Ada cringed. Whatever William’s faults, he was an Averley, and his behavior reflected badly on her and Georgiana also.

  Lady Edith did not seem to feel the embarrassment. She had lifted her pug dog onto her lap and was cooing over it. She glanced up to say, “I don’t read myself. It tires the brain.”

  “It would, in your case,” Ada said, under her breath. Sebastian subtly raised his glass to her across the table, a smile creasing the corner of his eyes. But Ada could not smile back. Suddenly the season seemed a daunting prospect. The possibility of letting her family down glared at her. How could she not have known her clothes were out of style, her complexion not quite the thing, and her movements as elegant as a cart horse’s?

  As they rose from the table, Charlotte spoke to Ada. “You must be feeling terribly homesick for India,” she said.

  Ada wondered if she was trying to make up for her earlier bad temper. They were to be sisters after all—they had to stay on good terms. She decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  “I am,” she said sincerely. “I miss the sounds and the sights and even the smells—”

  “Well, don’t worry.” They were passing through the door now toward the drawing room, while the men lit up cigars behind them. Charlotte dropped her voice as the passageway squeezed them close together. “You may be back there sooner than you think.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Why, what do you think girls do when their season fails—when no one wants them? They go to India and see who will have them out there.” She gave Ada one of her dazzling smiles and swept ahead into the drawing room, triumph radiating from her straight back and glimmering in the sequins on her dress. Ada pressed her lips together in a brave effort not to make a very unladylike retort.

  As Rose walked down the servants’ passage, she could hear Martha and Tobias gossiping in the kitchen as Martha tidied up.

  “So there’s something fishy about the master’s resignation? Who would have thought it? I’ll bear that in mind next time he’s reading prayers,” Martha said.

  “Pretty clear from the way they were talking about it, I’d say,” Tobias answered her. “Sounds like he’s done something disgraceful. Wonder if Mrs. Templeton knows?”

  Rose quickened her step. Martha had a hard job, but she was spiteful too. Trying not to think about what she had heard, she ran up the servants’ stairs and opened the door onto the second floor. She jumped as she came face to face with an Indian girl dressed in a maid’s uniform. The girl gasped and curtsied.

  Rose laughed. “You don’t have to curtsy to me!”

  “I’m sorry, miss. I’m not sure—I didn’t know—I’m lost.” The girl was the most dark-skinned person Rose had ever seen, and her eyes gleamed like the polished mahogany furniture in the drawing room. Rose tried not to stare.

  “Who are you? Did you come with the family from India?” she asked.

  “Yes. My name’s Priya. I’m the nursemaid—only I can’t find the nursery.” She half laughed, and her voice wobbled. “Everything’s so new here. And I don’t know who I’m allowed to talk to.”

  “You poor thing. Never mind, I’ll show you the way.” Rose tucked Priya’s hand under her arm and set off toward the nursery. “I’m Rose. You can talk to me, anyway—I’m the young ladies’ maid.”

  Priya looked around, awestruck, as they went along the corridor. “I don’t know how I’ll ever find my way around here.… Tell me, is young Augustus always this naughty?”

  “Yes! I don’t envy you your job,” Rose said with feeling. “But hasn’t anyone shown you around?”

  Priya sighed. “I tried to ask them in the kitchen, but the cook screamed when she saw me, so I thought I had bette
r go away.” She caught Rose’s eye, and they both started giggling.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,” Rose managed. “Only I can just imagine Cook doing that. Did she drop anything?”

  “Yes, the chickens!” Priya put a hand to her mouth. “And they went onto the dinner table, I’m sure of it!”

  “Oh well, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

  Rose left Priya at the door to the nursery. The girl smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you. I hope we see each other again.”

  “So do I,” said Rose. She wondered if they would. Both of them were going to be so busy, and there was little opportunity to meet and have friends. She missed Annie more than ever.

  On a whim, she took the main stairs, down into the east wing. She was allowed to do this now, she reminded herself. She no longer had to scuttle like a mouse behind the wainscot. But she also knew she was not really at home. She had no right to do what she was about to do. And even though she had done it hundreds of times, her heart still skipped a beat as she pushed open the door of the music room.

  Now that the young ladies slept in the rooms along this corridor, there would not be another chance to come here. It was not the way it used to be, when the piano was shrouded in a dust sheet and the carpet rolled back. It was not hers anymore.

  Sheets of music were scattered across the piano, and a chair was drawn up cozily to a music stand. Someone had adjusted the stool too; it did not fit her anymore. The lid was up. Like her, the room had changed.

  She had never had any real right to be here, she knew that, but still it hurt to know that she would never be able to come back. It was only now that she realized what they had meant to her, those stolen moments when she escaped into music, her hesitant fingers searching out half-remembered folk tunes from her childhood on the piano. It felt as if she were weaving a magical web of color and light, an escape ladder from the daily drudgery.

  She had only meant to look, but she could not resist pressing one key down, very gently and slowly. Deep inside the piano, she felt an answering thrum.

  “Good-bye,” she whispered.

  They came by special railway carriage and motorcar. The men wore top hats and the women satin and lace veils, their spotless gloves offered daintily to the footman who helped them squeeze their vast hats, decorated with the plumes of birds of paradise and ostriches, into the carriage sent to collect them from the station. They came from the House of Lords and from the great country estates, from the Foreign Office and the Home Office and the salons of London society. They stepped down before Somerton, looked up at the colonnades, and smiled. “Exquisite,” they murmured, “simply charming,” as they entered the great main doors and smelled the orange blossoms Rose had pinned to the arches, and saw the huge bouquets of orchids and lilies Mrs. Templeton had ordered from London and arranged in the great crystal vases Lord Westlake’s father had collected in Rome. They passed James and Roderick, motionless and mighty as Greek gods carved in stone, if such gods had worn knee breeches and an expression James himself had described as “constipated pig,” and were ushered through the house into the conservatory, following the sound of treble singing voices and the scent of roses and lilies. Although all had been to countless society weddings before, not one of them could repress a gasp of admiration as they saw the way the conservatory had been transformed. The autumn sun poured through the glass, and bathed the ropes and loops of wreathed roses and foliage that festooned the columns. At the far end, a bower decorated solely with Averley Pearl roses had been created. The priest stood there, with a lectern before him upon which the family Bible, which dated from the reign of King James, rested. The piano, strewn with flowers, was set up and ready, and a choir of small boys sang “O Perfect Love” as the footmen ushered the guests to their seats.

  Ada, seated in the front row, fanned herself. She was filled with a mixture of dread, nervousness, and excitement. She knew Douglas Varley would be attending the wedding, expecting an answer to his proposal. But would Ravi be accompanying him? Did he know of Mr. Varley’s proposal? Ada’s fingers went unconsciously to her lips and she colored as she remembered their kiss. Again.

  At least she thought she was looking attractive. Fiona had chosen matching dresses for her, Georgiana, and Charlotte, though it was not usual for a second-time bride to have official bridesmaids. They wore tunics of rose-pink chiffon, richly beaded with real diamond dewdrops and draped elegantly over sheaths of ivory silk. The effect was breathtaking. Fiona might dislike her, Ada thought, but she would not suffer anything at her wedding to be in bad taste.

  The guests murmured as Lord Westlake approached.

  Georgiana took her seat at the piano, looking nervous. As Fiona appeared at the end of the aisle, smiling, with Sebastian by her side, Georgiana struck up the “Nuptial Chorus” from Lohengrin.

  Ada had to admit that Fiona had made a great success of herself. She looked beautiful and hardly a day over thirty, and showed no signs of nerves. She walked up to the priest as demurely as befitted a widow, in mauve French lace by Worth and a cream toque, and knelt with her groom upon the satin cushions provided for them, smiling as she said the vows that turned her into the Countess of Westlake. Ada smiled bravely, trying to conquer her nerves, and was glad to see how happy her father looked as he slid the ring of Welsh gold onto her stepmother’s finger.

  After the wedding, Lord and Lady Westlake stood before the open doors to the ballroom, smiling with their children as they formally received their guests. Ada smiled until her face hurt, all the time wondering when and if she would see Ravi. She did not know if she feared it or longed for it.

  “Lord Sandringham! How delightful to see you,” Lady Westlake said, and she sank into a deep curtsy.

  There were so many people in the hall, it was hard to see who was coming next, but Ada heard a familiar voice say to Charlotte, “Ladies, your beauty puts the three Graces above you to shame.” It was Douglas Varley. He had glanced up at the frieze that ran around the dome.

  Ada felt a stab of annoyance. The classical women in the frieze were not the three Graces; they were three Greek goddesses, Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena. It was a scene from the story of the Trojan war: the judgment of Paris. Asked to judge the most beautiful among the three, he had chosen Aphrodite. In return she promised him the love of the most beautiful woman in the world, Helen of Troy—and so the bitter ten-year war began.

  “In fact,” she began, “the women portrayed are…” but no one was listening. Varley’s eyes were on her, but his attention was taken up by Lady Westlake.

  “As Lady Ada was saying,” said a familiar voice, “I believe the frieze shows the judgment of Paris.”

  Ada felt a thrill. It was Ravi. Of course he would have known what the frieze showed. She met Ravi’s eyes and her heart flew up like a bird bursting out of a cage. The memory of their night together washed over her and she was helpless.

  “It isn’t the most promising allusion for a wedding day,” she found herself saying. “I mean, Paris and Helen—the ten-year war…” Fiona was staring at her coldly, and she swallowed and blushed.

  Douglas Varley bent over her hand, and Ada’s heart sank as readily as it had soared a moment before.

  “How delightful to see you,” she managed. As he bent over her hand, she was left looking full into Ravi’s eyes. There was nothing between them but a foot of air, air that she could not draw into her lungs because he was smiling at her. It barely touched his lips, but the smile was in his eyes like reflected stars. And once again she had the feeling that she was standing on the brink of the whole universe, and nothing held her back. Then Douglas Varley straightened up, and came between them again. He pressed her hand and smiled, too—but a very different smile. This one had the calm self-satisfaction of one who knows a by-election is in the bag. He leaned in closely to her.

  “There’s no need to reply now. I can see you are overwhelmed. I hope to hear your answer after the wedding,” he said in her ear, and passed on to
Charlotte, who was staring with open curiosity at them. To Ada’s relief, she had to look away as Mr. Varley greeted her. Then Ravi took her hand and drove all thought out of her mind.

  “I didn’t know you would be coming,” Ada said. Her voice felt as if it came from far away. She became aware that something was pressing into the palm of her hand. A slip of folded paper.

  “Nothing could have kept me away,” he replied, just above a whisper. It could have been a compliment to the occasion, but Ada knew he meant it specially for her.

  Douglas Varley had moved on, and then Charlotte was smiling at Ravi. He let go of Ada’s hand and she let it fall to her side, the folded paper in it. She turned aside as if to adjust her gloves, and slipped the paper inside one of them. Then she turned back, her heart pounding so loudly she worried it would echo around the dome above her, and smiled with the courage of an Averley at the next elderly gentleman who bowed above her hand.

  The ballroom was hot, crowded, and noisy. Ada moved through the crowd, attending to the needs of the guests, summoning footmen with more champagne and petit fours. All the time, Ravi’s note felt like a burning promise on her wrist. She tried to distract herself by watching the way Charlotte flitted from man to man like a hummingbird, industrious and efficient. She had a way of throwing back her head to laugh that showed off her alabaster-white throat and a little too much of her décolletage, in the valley of which a diamond hung, as tempting as the fly on a fishing line. And some of these gentlemen were very fat fish indeed, covered in titles and estates like scales.

  Georgiana wove her way through the crowds. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright. “Isn’t Michael such fun?” she exclaimed. “I hope he doesn’t get packed off to school again. It would be so much more amusing to have him here.”

  “Amusing?” Ada looked at her in astonishment. “I wouldn’t have chosen that word to describe his company.”