It was notlost on Olivia Watson, when she and the Mappertons alighted at Almack’s, how strange it was that she, of all people, was entering the most exclusive assembly rooms in Britain.
How many London slum orphans, who had never known either of their parents, had attended these rooms as guests? Scant few, she knew. She felt almost a slight sense of responsibility, as if she were representing those other than herself. Of course, such thoughts were ridiculous. None of the children that she had grown up with at the orphanage cared about Almack’s. They were almost certainly too busy winning their bread—if they had even made it this far into adulthood alive and with their liberty.
Such reflections were chased from her thoughts when she saw the grim faces of Eloisa, Natasha, and Nathanial. They were approaching the door of Almack’s—and, thus, Mr. Willis. The small, thin man was the owner and doorkeeper of the rooms, and he was notorious in London, because he did not hesitate to turn away those who did not adhere to the rules of the establishment. The Duke of Wellington himself had been barred for wearing pantaloons. A voucher meant nothing to Willis, if you showed up improperly dressed or in any way did not look the part. Even an air of unfamiliarity—or foreignness, Olivia expected—could see you rejected.
“It will go well,” she whispered to Eloisa as they approached Willis, “I know it.”
Her friend gave her a shaky smile back. She seldom saw Eloisa waver, but anyone would shiver in the face of this trial. To be turned away from Almack’s publicly, even after possessing a voucher, would be a rejection from which Eloisa and her children would be unlikely to recover.
Eloisa presented the vouchers to Mr. Willis, who inspected them with a skeptical eye. He looked at each of them, his eyes lingering on Natasha—who could blame him, Olivia thought, given the beauty and startling freshness of her face, gown, and hair. The moment expanded. It felt infinite. Olivia held her breath.
And then he bowed them through.
She knew they should appear demure, but Olivia could not help from beaming at Eloisa, who smiled back. They were in.
When they entered the central room, where the dancing was to take place, Olivia was startled by its unremarkable nature. The room was handsome, of course, with fine wainscoting and walls upholstered in a demure light blue. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A sizable orchestra played from a balcony. Nevertheless, for all the turmoil that attended gaining entrance, the room was not anymore opulent than the assembly rooms she had regularly seen in France—and it certainly was not as lavish as the Templeton ballroom where they had danced last week.
“We don’t know a soul here,” Eloisa said, as they trickled in with the crush. She was right. Olivia could not see one familiar face in the crowd. However, she did see a few darting, even sneering glances coming from nearby groups.
“I see Miss Templeton by the refreshments,” Natasha said, “But I can hardly presume on the acquaintance.”
“It is sweltering,” Nathanial said, “It is a wonder anyone can breathe.”
“It is not unlike any other ballroom in that regard, Nathanial,” Natasha snapped.
“Speak for yourself,” her brother retorted. “I’ll trade you my wool for your silk and tulle and then we’ll see how you judge the temperature.”
“Hush, you two,” Eloisa commanded. “No quarreling.” By the way her eyes darted around the room, Olivia knew she had discovered the hostile looks being cast their way.
For a moment, Olivia felt that she had new insight into how castaways on the sea must feel. The four of them might as well have been floating on a raft in the Pacific, for all the help that seemed likely to come their way. Except a castaway wouldn’t have to contend with how they must appear to onlookers. Did the other guests at Almack’s see a former scullery maid and three foreigners in their midst? Given the speed with which gossip circulated in high society, it was likely that the gawkers knew the exact details of their biographies.
“Miss Mapperton!”
All four of them turned their heads in the direction of the enthusiastic voice. They were rewarded by the sight of Lord Percy making his way through the crush, his sandy hair and kind features offset into handsomeness by his black evening clothes.
“We have been waiting for you,” Lord Percy continued, “Please—come this way. It would be an honor if you would consent to be introduced to my sisters.”
Natasha, Eloisa, and Olivia all gave little curtsies and followed Percy back through the crowd. Nathanial trailed as well, his usual haughty attitude towards English society shaken by the welcomeness of Percy’s appearance.
Soon, they reached the waiting Carrington siblings. Olivia remembered Elizabeth, Percy’s twin, as a dark-haired girl prone to mischief and outbursts of temper. The youngest, Petunia, had only been five or six when she had seen her last, but she had grown into a pretty, slim young woman with curly brown hair. She looked comfortable in the ballroom, but in a natural, friendly way, as if she were used to welcoming others instead of driving them away.
And then, of course, there was Augustus. The only of his siblings that was seated on their approach, he rose from one of the deep armchairs that appeared in short supply. Olivia tried to avert her eyes from him, but, as usual, she failed. Years ago, she had only seen him in evening dress when he departed from Carrington Place or returned home. She had never stood with him in such a space as this one. She had never been his equal then—and she hardly was now, she reminded herself.
The black of his evening suit made his eyes appear even less earthly. She refused to let her gaze drop lower than his neck, but she knew, blast her peripheral vision, that he wore well the taut lines currently in fashion for men’s full dress.
“Ah, Mrs. Mapperton, Count Mapperton, Miss Mapperton, and Miss Watson—I am very glad to see my brother managed to find you,” Augustus said, in a tone that fairly announced he had been the one to send his brother round the room in search of them. “The dance is just beginning, and we Carrington siblings are in need of partners. Mrs. Mapperton, would you do me the honor?”
Eloisa hid her start of surprise with an elegant curtsey and took Augustus’s arm. Olivia knew that, in the eyes of society, he was lavishing Eloisa with a compliment that would not be missed—and she knew, as Eloisa’s companion, she could hardly be asked to dance first. Still, a pang went through her as she saw Augustus depart. She shook her head. She was being foolish. She did notwantto dance with him.
Once, of course, she had not known how to dance, but that had changed in France. To be Eloisa’s companion and Natasha’s chaperone, she needed to know the art. She had learned soon after her employment. Eloisa had insisted that she do so. She remembered how foolish she had felt when Monsieur Laboe had swept her across the dining room of their Parisian townhouse. Now, dancing was second nature.
In short order, Percy swept off towards the floor with Natasha, and Nathanial—having no other choice, even though he seemed very ill at ease at the prospect—left with Elizabeth.
Alone with Petunia, Olivia smiled at the girl. “Do not feel that you shouldn’t find a partner on my account. You must have many beaux who want to dance with you.”
Petunia smiled. “I do not know aboutmany. Certainly,some.But I have much to time to dance. I would much rather speak to you.”
Olivia found such a statement quite odd. For a moment, she was speechless.
