‘Yes, come in, Lucy!’ she called back.
I had been buoyed up by Jane’s compliment, but seeing Lucinda looking pretty as a picture in a flower-sprigged muslin made me deflate a little.
‘Aunt Elizabeth arranged my hair,’ she said, patting her updo self-consciously. Soft dark ringlets framed her heart-shaped face, and her pert bosom swelled propitiously above the low rounded neckline of her dress. Inshort, she was a peach ripe for the plucking. Mr Hart might have competition once the other young gentlemen clapped eyes on her.
If so, then he might be free to ask me to dance, I thought but quickly pushed the notion out of my head. I should not expect to be the object of his attention, not with my being married and delectable Lucinda on the scene. But there was nothing wrong with observing him from a distance, was there?
‘You look simply delicious!’ said Jane approvingly, and I nodded.
‘Lovely!’ I contributed.
But Lucinda looked anxious rather than pleased.
‘Is everything all right, dear?’ I enquired.
‘I confess I am nervous about attending the ball. I want so much to speak with Mr Hart again, but what if he does not come over?’
I let Jane do the reassuring while I filled my small green velvet reticule with a clean handkerchief, my fan, a tin of lip salve, a pot of rouge, a vial of scent, and some spare pins in case of a hair emergency. It rather bulged at the seams with all these items, but I deemed them all completely necessary.
‘He has said he wishes to become better acquainted, so I do not think you have anything to worry about,’ Jane soothed. ‘If he does not stand up with you at least once, I will be mostsurprised.’
‘Perhaps you should let Aunt Jane dance with him first todetermine if he is a man of consequence,’ I interjected, pulling on my gloves. ‘She is an excellent judge of character.’
I wiggled my brows at Jane, and she smirked.
Oh yes, both of us were eager to discover more about Mr Hart (on Lucinda’s behalf, of course!).
Even though the Upper Assembly Rooms—or ‘the rooms’, as Jane and Elizabeth referred to them—were situated not far from the house, a hackney was called for regardless. Edward did not want to walk the distance on crutches, and Elizabeth did not want to dirty the hem of her dress.
So just before seven o’clock, one gent in an evening suit and four ladies in muslins, full of excited anticipation of the evening ahead, were transported and deposited at our destination barely three minutes later. The driver commented with a laugh that his horse had hardly broken a sweat, but he obligingly helped us alight and was tipped for his trouble.
The exterior of the rooms was unassuming, a squat building of golden stone with a triangular portico. But I soon discovered it was not the case once inside. What a glorious and elegant sight met my eyes!
I found myself in an enormous rectangular dance room, painted eggshell blue with Grecian columns inset around the walls along with artworks and gilt-edged mirrors. I counted not one or two, but five crystal chandeliers lit with candles, and Jane told me there was space for at least 500 people. On this night, there were fewer than that number in attendance, but it was still crowded.
The first dance was about to take place; and with the swelling noise of the orchestra, the loud chatter of the throng, and the cloying heat, I felt a little dazed by the spectacle and wished I’d added smelling salts to my reticule.
When we had entered, Elizabeth had escorted Edward through to the octagon as he’d said he was quite happy to spend the evening playing cards, and she said she would see him settled but find us presently.
‘Quick, let us secure a spot on the first bench for the next dance while it is mostly unoccupied,’ urged Jane now.
An excellent plan, I thought and we pushed past the onlookers and sank onto the ‘bench’. It was a long high-backed settee with armrests and curved wooden legs. Upholstered in red velvet, it was placed at the front of the ballroom, giving us a clear view of the dance floor. It was also rather hard on one’s behind, being stuffed with horsehair or some such, but I supposed sitting in such a prime position was worth the discomfort.
I noticed we were gaining sharp looks from some of the other young ladies standing around the room, and there was whispering and peeking at us from behind fans going on. ‘Are you sure we can sit here?’ I hissed to Jane.
She shrugged. ‘You and Lucinda are high-ranking enough to warrant it, and Elizabeth mentioned she had informed the master of ceremonies of your presence in Bath. So do not worry about that. If anyone is likely to be turfed off the first bench, it is me.’
‘Let us pray that does not happen,’ I said. ‘At least before you have had one dance with an eligible gentleman.’
Speaking of eligible gentlemen, I surreptitiously scanned the groups of white-muslined ladies and tailcoated gentlemen who were performing a lively cotillion.
My heart skipped a beat when I caught sight of a certain someone.
I nudged Lucinda. ‘There is your Mr Hart,’ I said in a low voice.
‘Where?’ she said eagerly.
‘Over there, to the right.’
