“Carriages ahead. We’ve just crossed into Pentonville.” He leaned over to try to see past the fine tall carriage in front of them. “There are a couple of grand manor houses ahead. One of them must have something going on tonight.”
“Awfully late in the season for a ball,” Charlotte mused. “Must be someone’s birthday.”
The carriage ahead of them pulled forward. “There we go.” They rode alongside the broad stone manse just in time to see a finely clad couple allowed entrance by a black-suited butler.
“Just the one carriage holding up traffic. Good. Latecomers by the looks of it.”
“Could we stop for a moment?”
She knew he looked at her in surprise, but Charlotte’s gaze was focused on the manor and the golden light streaming from the windows.
“I have been here before.”
He reined the horse to the right and halted the rig along the side of the street.
“Yes, I was here with my cousin Katherine during my first season. I cannot recall the family name. But I remember something she said, about the place being ‘on the very edge of decent society.’” Charlotte began parroting an upper-crust accent. “‘If the building were one street over, we should have declined the invitation. But since the family throws the most lavish balls in town—perhaps to make up for their lack of pristine location—we shall condescend to taste their fine meal and dance with their handsome guests.’” Charlotte chuckled dryly. “I had no real idea where I was at the time, or how true her words.”
She stared off, remembering. “Please. I’d like to get closer. Just for a moment.”
“But—”
She half rose from her seat, giving Dr. Taylor little choice but to step down from the carriage, pausing only to tie down the reins. Before he could step around to her side to help her down, she was already lowering herself from his side. He offered his hand and she accepted it.
She preceded him across the street, quiet now. She was aware of his footsteps behind her. Then he caught up and walked by her side.
She did not go up the steps to the door but instead daintily lifted her skirts and stepped up over the brick gutter and onto the lawn. She took a few steps closer to the facade, then paused. She looked up, and side to side. The windows were like moving paintings in gold-leaf frames. The light spilling from the windows pooled close to where she had paused, but she did not step into that light. Instead she stood at a distance and watched. Across one window passed couples dancing, swirling gowns of every color flowing by, men in black-and-white smiling solicitously to partners pink-cheeked with pleasure. In another window, people mingled, drinking tea and punch, talking and laughing with one another as though they hadn’t a care in the world beyond the quality of the musicians, the strength of the tea, or the quantity of sugar buns.
Though her view was limited, Charlotte was relieved to see no one she knew. No sign of Bea or William, Charles or Katherine—though Katherine, no doubt adhering to the prescribed month of bed rest, would surely not be in attendance. Charlotte’s breath caught at the sight of Theo Bolger and Kitty Wells. Kitty had always been an attentive friend, and Theo had never failed to seek out Charlotte for a dance. Now, the two danced on without her. She was on the outside, separated forever by glass, by choices.
“Charlotte ...?” Daniel began.
“Let us leave,” she said, turning abruptly and brushing past him without meeting his eyes.
A couple was coming up the street, arm in arm. The man hailed her. “I say, is that Charlotte Lamb?”
Charlotte glanced over and was chagrined to see William Bentley with a girl she did not recognize. Mr. Bentley’s smile was wide in obvious surprise and inebriation.
“ItisCharlotte Lamb, and looking ... well, quite herself. But I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” Dr. Taylor said brusquely and gently took Charlotte’s arm, leading her across the street. She stole a glance back over her shoulder.
“Not going so soon, I hope? I hadn’t even one dance with you ...” He tripped and the girl caught his arm. “’Course I am a bit unstable on my feet at present.”
Behind them, the girl laughed. “You’ll be a danger on the dance floor tonight, that’s for certain.”
He must be drunk indeed to not notice neither Charlotte nor her companion was dressed for dinner, let alone dancing.
As he helped Charlotte back into the carriage and urged the horse down the dim street, Daniel recalled the last time he had seen William Bentley.
It was at a ball held at Sharsted Court in Doddington more than three years ago now. Daniel had been standing awkwardly in an archway, drinking tea, when two young ladies passed and he thought he heard his name. He stepped back into the shadows, hoping to avoid blatant humiliation.
“I do not see why he’s here,” Beatrice Lamb was saying, her lip curled. “A bone and blood man at a ball—it’s revolting. What were our hosts thinking?”
“The man is not a surgeon, Beatrice,” the friend consoled, “he’s a physician, or plans to be.”
“Still, it turns one’s thoughts in a most gloomy direction, seeing him.”
“He’s treated their little nephew, I believe, to most satisfactory results.”
