Jane Ashford (7 page)

On the evening of the Wellfleets’ party, Aggie stood before a full-length mirror that had been brought up to her room some days before and looked at herself with amazed approval. Her reflection was a stranger, but one she thought she might like very well, given the opportunity. Her glowing auburn hair was dressed in a cloud of curls, and the pale blue gown was unquestionably a success. It fell straight from the high waist to a series of flounces at the hem, and the dressmaker had embellished these with lacy trim until they reminded an observer of sea foam. Blue ribbons fluttered from the waist of the dress, and the bodice and sleeves were simple
and elegant.

“What do you say, Brutus?” asked Aggie gaily. “Do you still know me now?”

The kitten, who was perched on the back of an armchair in the corner, watching his mistress suspiciously, mewed sharply once.

“Surely not,” laughed Aggie. “I think I look very fine.” She went over and picked him up, holding him near her face. “You are the most exasperating, dearest animal, Brutus, and I am very glad I brought you from home after all.”

She had just set him down again and turned back to the mirror when there was a flurried knock at her door and Mrs. Wellfleet burst in. This lady looked enchanting in sea-green gauze draped over satin, with an emerald necklace. “I couldn’t wait to see how you looked,” she exclaimed. “Oh, beautiful!” She pushed Aggie up to the mirror, then took her shoulders and turned her around. “Yes indeed, the dress is perfect. I knew it would be.”

“I love it,” admitted Aggie. “I am so grateful to you, I can’t even say how much.”

“Pooh,” said the other. “Anyone would have done the same, after seeing you. You belong in such gowns.”

“On the contrary, I think no one else in the world would have done so. Only the most generous, kindest person I have ever met.” Aggie held out a hand, and Mrs. Wellfleet squeezed it.

“Well, I am glad you are happy,” she replied ingenuously, “for I am having such fun that I should be quite cast down if it should end too soon. Come, let us go downstairs. Our guests will be arriving in half an hour.”

Aggie obediently followed her out, shutting the door on Brutus to make certain that he would not wander away.

“By the by,” continued Anne Wellfleet airily as they walked down the staircase, “I have not thought it necessary to explain your exact circumstances to everyone coming tonight. So fatiguing. Some of them knew your parents, of course, and I have put it about that you are visiting us.”

Aggie frowned. “That seems like deception.”

“Oh, well, of course you will tell anyone who comes to know you well. But I did not see the necessity of spreading the story throughout the neighborhood. Some of them are
such
gossips; they would never be done talking.”

“Still—” began the other girl.

“And besides,” interrupted Mrs. Wellfleet, “it won’t matter a particle after tonight.” She smiled as she thought complacently of the information her husband had passed along to her.

“What do you mean?”

Turning startled eyes on Aggie, the other said, “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Just that it doesn’t signify. Come, we should hurry.” And she practically ran down the hall to the drawing room, leaving Aggie to follow more slowly, trying to puzzle out what she had meant.

***

The entire neighborhood came to the Wellfleets’ drawing room that evening. Aggie had never even seen most of them, though several remembered her parents. She stood beside Anne, greeting each guest and being introduced, and tried to keep all the names straight in her head. Long before everyone had arrived, she had given up in despair. It was, apparently, a very populous county. By nine, fully thirty people stood about the room, and the buzz of conversation was overwhelming.

“I believe everyone has come,” said Anne. “I must see about the dancing. You will start, dear Aggie. Shall I find you a splendid partner?”

A little color showed in Aggie’s cheeks. “I promised the first dance to Mr. Dudley,” she answered. “And I admit I am glad now. He is almost the only gentleman I know.”

“Did you? How nice. Let us go and find him.”

They discovered John Dudley, who had arrived sometime earlier, in a corner, deep in a discussion of livestock with several of his male neighbors. “Come, John,” said Anne Wellfleet. “I want to start the dancing, and Aggie says she is promised to you for the first.”

“She is indeed,” he replied promptly. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me.”

“Bound to,” said one of his burly companions, eyeing Aggie appreciatively. “But mind you, John, if I were twenty years younger, you shouldn’t walk off with such a prize so easily.”

Dudley laughed and offered Aggie his arm. “I can only thank Providence, Sir Charles, that you are not.”

The burly man’s guffaw followed them out onto the floor. Mrs. Wellfleet went to speak to the musicians she had hired for the evening.

“You have scored a coup,” said Dudley as they waited for the music to begin and the others to choose partners, “Sir Charles is counted quite a connoisseur.”

“He is funny.”

“Oh, yes, though I admit that I do not always appreciate his wit. He is one of those in the neighborhood who mocks my efforts at experimental farming.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. He believes that the ways of his grandfathers are good enough for his grandsons as well. He finds much to amuse himself, and anyone else who will listen, in my changes.”

“Too bad. I shan’t speak to him.”

Dudley laughed. “This is punishment indeed. He will think himself cruelly used.”

Several couples had joined them on the floor by this time, and the music started up. It was a country dance and offered few opportunities for conversation, so Aggie and John had to content themselves with smiles and nods in one another’s direction.

By the start of the second set, Mrs. Wellfleet was surrounded by young men begging for an introduction to her charming guest. She laughingly chose one and presented him to Aggie. This process was repeated several times before supper, and Aggie soon met most of the eligible gentlemen of the neighborhood in this way. She received a great many compliments, and there was no mistaking the frank admiration in her partners’ eyes, but somehow she was captivated by none. This one seemed very young and frivolous; that one awkward and tongue-tied; and another, who fancied himself a budding beau, quite embarrassed her with his fulsome flattery. All in all, Aggie found that she felt a vast relief when John Dudley came up to her as the final set before supper was forming and begged for another dance. Seeing Mrs. Wellfleet approaching with yet another stranger, she consented quickly and took his arm to walk onto the floor.

“What is it?” he asked, amused. “You looked hunted.”

Aggie sighed. “It is hard, I find, to dance with so many strangers. I have often imagined how wonderful a ball would be, but I see now that it is a great work. One must chat and laugh and look as if she were having a splendid time, even when the exact opposite is the case.”

“Alas, which of our poor young men has left you with this feeling? I take for granted, you see, that it is not I, for I at least am not a stranger, however prosy I may be.”

“You aren’t. I enjoy talking to you. You always talk of such sensible things.”

Dudley grimaced, but she did not notice.

“Some of these gentlemen seem to have nothing in their heads but empty compliments.” Aggie dimpled. “And hackneyed ones, too, my sister Thalia would say. Not one vestige of originality.”

“You inspire in me a wish to meet your sister, tempered with a healthy dread. Is she very severe on us?”

“Not unless you deserve it,” laughed Aggie.

“Ah. In that case, I will take care to avoid her.”

“No, she is really very charming. She is simply so intelligent, you see, that many people seem a trifle dull to her.” They had begun to dance by this time, and Aggie looked up at him. “Thalia is the
most
intelligent person I have ever met.”

“Admirable,” murmured Dudley, seemingly unable to tear his gaze from her face.

“Yes, she is.”

“And your other sister, er, Euphie was it? She is also a paragon?”

Aggie laughed. “Oh, Euphie is the most delightful girl imaginable, but she is not precisely a bluestocking.” She laughed again, seeming much amused by her own remark.

“You are an amazing family.”

“Why?”

“So much beauty, grace, and intelligence combined. Your father was truly a prophet when he named you, thought I cannot imagine that your sisters are as lovely as you.”

Aggie’s gratification at the compliment was tempered by a protest. “To be sure they are! They are much prettier.”

“Impossible.” He laughed a little.

“It isn’t. And you cannot know how lovely they are, after all, never having seen them.”

“True. I bow to your more expert opinion. But I reserve the right to form my own someday.”

“Oh, yes. I wish you could meet them. I think they would like you.”

“I hope they may,” he replied, gazing into her eyes.

Aggie flushed a little and returned his look steadfastly.

They went in to supper together soon after. John found them places at a table filled with young people, and the meal was very lively, full of jokes and chatter. Aggie, with John beside her, enjoyed herself immensely. And afterward, she found it somehow easier to dance with the new partners her hostess presented to her.

Several sets went by, and it began to grow late. At eleven, there was a pause, and Aggie stood near one of the windows fanning herself and trying to cool her hot cheeks. The spring night was warm, and the room had become stifling as the evening went on. John Dudley came up to her and said, “Very stuffy, isn’t it?”

“Yes, terribly.”

“Would you consent to take a brief stroll with me in the garden? There is something I particularly wish to discuss with you.” He faltered only slightly over his request, but the hesitation made Aggie look up quickly.

“Well, I, I suppose I could,” she answered.

Dudley breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Splendid. Shall I fetch your shawl?”

“I’m so warm, I hardly feel I want it, but I suppose I must take it.” Aggie started across the room, and the man walked with her. They said nothing, each preoccupied with the conversation to come.

They had just reached the chair where Aggie’s shawl lay and were picking it up, when Mr. Wellfleet came through a nearby archway, followed by a man in riding clothes liberally spattered with mud. “Miss Hartington,” said the former. “This man has just arrived; the butler brought him to me. But he insists upon seeing you. He says he has a message.”

“I was to give it to the lady herself,” said the other man, “and as soon as may be, as it’s very important.” He spoke stubbornly, as if rehearsing something he had said often before.

“What is it?” said Aggie. “Not my sisters? Has something happened?” She put out a hand, and John Dudley grasped it firmly.

“I don’t know nothing about sisters,” answered the messenger. He pulled an envelope from his coat. “This is from Mr. Gaines, the solicitor. He told me it was terrible important, and you should see it at once. So here it is.” He looked very pleased with himself.

Aggie took the letter mechanically. “Mr. Gaines? But what can he have to say to me?”

“You’d best open it and see,” responded Mr. Wellfleet.

Absently pulling her hand free, Aggie tore open the envelope and spread out the single sheet it contained. The note was short, and she read quickly. “They have found a new will,” she said then, seeming a bit dazed. “Mr. Gaines says I am a very rich woman now and that I must return home immediately to consult with him.” She stared up at Mr. Wellfleet.

“Congratulations, my dear Miss Hartington. So your aunt was not so irresponsible as we thought her. Splendid.”

“Yes, but I… I don’t know just what…”

“It is a surprise, certainly. Perhaps you should sit down, I’ll fetch Anne. She
will
be pleased.”

“I’ll get her,” put in John Dudley quickly, and before anyone could reply, he strode away, a grim look about his mouth.

The party did not go on much longer, for which Aggie was grateful. She could not make trivial conversation when her mind was wholly occupied with this new development. By the time she had gathered her wits again, most of the guests had departed. She looked around for Mr. Dudley, but he was nowhere to be seen, and she assumed that he had left her alone to become accustomed to her news. No doubt she would see him tomorrow, and they could continue their very interesting conversation.

As predicted, Anne Wellfleet was delighted. The only thing that clouded her happiness was the fact that Aggie would be leaving them. “You will go to London, of course,” she mused. “You
must
. What a come-out it will be. The town will be bowled out. Oh, how I wish I could see it!” She turned cajolingly to her husband. “Alex, might we go up to town, for just a tiny time?”

Mr. Wellfleet laughed. “Perhaps, if you wish to abandon your children, madam.”

“Oh, no, but, well, Mrs. Dunkin
does
take splendid care of them.”

He laughed again. “So she does.”

Anne clapped her hands. “It is settled, then. We shall come up to town to watch you dazzle the ton.”

“But I am not at all sure I shall go to London,” protested Aggie. “I don’t know just what I’ll do.” She thought again of John Dudley.

“Not go? Of course you will. You must have a season. And your sisters, too.”

Much struck by this idea, Aggie paused. “Euphie would love a season,” she said to herself. “I must write them.”

“And so will you,” urged Anne. “Wait and see.”

The last guests departed, and Aggie went up to bed without having finally settled this matter in her mind. It seemed to her that there were more important issues to decide first. But one thing was clear. She would have to go home for a time and consult with Mr. Gaines.

She said as much to the Wellfleets the following day, and they agreed, putting their traveling carriage at her disposal. As Aggie thanked them for this courtesy, Anne added, “You must go at once, much as I should wish to keep you. But if you are to reach London before the season ends, all must be done quickly. Why not leave tomorrow?”