Mr. Nobley was darker in coloring and taller than Colonel Andrews, and his jaw was in no need of the long sideburns to give it definition. The line of his shoulders identified him as the more likely shadowy lurker from the ballroom. In the light, she found him handsome, in a brooding sort of way.
Of course, Jane thought, two different types for the buffet.
Mr. Nobley bowed stiffly, and then walked away to look out the window.
“How do you do?” said Jane to his back.
Aunt Saffronia laughed. “Do not mind Mr. Nobley. He is annoyed to be trapped here with such minor country gentry, are you not, sir?”
Mr. Nobley looked back at Aunt Saffronia. “I do not know what you mean, madam.” His eyes flicked to Jane.
She found herself thinking, I wonder if he thinks I’m pretty? Then thought, Don’t be silly—it’s all an act. Then thought, What fun!
“And you gentlemen already have made the acquaintance of Miss Charming.”
“Indeed,” said Colonel Andrews, bowing again.
“You boys know you can call me Lizzy.”
Jane glanced at Aunt Saffronia, wondering what would happen at this request. According to the Rules, it was completely improper for a man to call a woman who was not a relation by her first name unless they were engaged. Before Aunt Saffronia could speak or Mrs. Wattlesbrook could magically incarnate on the rug wielding a disapproving look, Colonel Andrews came to the rescue.
“I would never dream of doing you such a dishonor, MissCharming.” His voice drew out all the allure and meaning in her surname, and he smiled with a sly, teasing expression.
Miss Charming giggled. “Tallyho.”
Oh no, thought Jane as she watched the exchange, panic tickling her heart. Do they think Miss Charming is ridiculous? I don’t want them to think she’s ridiculous. Wait, do they also think I’m ridiculous? And maybe I am. Oh no, oh no, are we both silly women whom they’re all laughing at secretly?
She hated it when people hated her, and she’d never be able to relax here if she was constantly on edge, afraid of being judged. She tried to catch Mr. Nobley’s eye and somehow smile or wink or do anything to say: I’m in on the joke, I swear, I definitely don’t take myself seriously ha-ha aren’t we all just having a laugh together!
He didn’t look away from the window, and after a few moments, Jane had cause to be relieved. In a burst of panic, she had actually been ready towinkat him. Yikes. One thing she had never imagined in all her imaginings was how vulnerable this world might make her feel, like the just-moved-in kid on the first day of middle school who likes the wrong kind of music.
The dinner bell rang. Sir John, who had been slouching in a chair, roused at the sound and offered his arm to Miss Charming. He patted her hand and grumbled in a too-loud voice, “Let us hope there are enough game birds tonight. My stomach is not up to much boiled mutton, what.”
Aunt Saffronia took Mr. Nobley’s arm, leaving Jane and the colonel at the tail end of the parade from drawing room to dining room. The precedence told Jane two things: Mr. Nobley must be very rich and well-connected to outrank an earl’s second son, and she was the lowest-ranking woman.She supposed that was no surprise, considering she was not their “usual type of guest.”
They ate pigeon soup with lemons and asparagus and then, in Regency dining style, served themselves from the proffered platters of fish and grouse, cooked celery and cucumbers. A cup of something like creamy applesauce served as dessert, and the wine was exchanged for Madeira. The food was pretty good, though a bit bland. When would Indian food arrive in England to spice things up? Jane could go for a decent curry.
Aunt Saffronia kept the conversation flowing about the weather, the state of pheasants in the park this year, and the doings of mythic acquaintances in the city. Jane did not speak much during dinner, still oppressed with jet lag and curious to observe before opening her mouth and proving herself a fool. Mr. Nobley, too, barely spoke. Not that Miss Charming at his side didn’t do her best to engage.
“What do you think ofme dress, Mr. Nobley?”
“It is very nice.”
“Do you like the fish?”
“Yes, it is a good fish.”
“Do I have something in my eye?” This spoken while twisting toward him, her eyes wide-open, her amazing bosom pressing against his shoulder.
No way Mrs. Wattlesbrook could find a corset to fit that, Jane thought.
“I . . . I am afraid I cannot see well in this low light,” Mr. Nobley said without really looking.
Miss Charming giggled. “You’re quite a bloke, Mr. Nobley. Rather!”
After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing room while the men stayed in the dining room to pass around snuff andport, which activities the Rules forbade them from doing in front of women. Aunt Saffronia sat between one real and one electric kerosene lamp, embroidering and chattering about the gentlemen, while Miss Charming paced the drawing room floor.
“The colonel is all kindness, is he not, Miss Charming? He has such a sad reputation in the city, I have heard, for carousing and card playing and the like, but I say, what else is a young, unattached man to do with the war over, thanks be, and he the younger son with no title to claim him? A small mercy his mother is not alive to see how he’s turned out, rest her. Now Mr. Nobley, of course, is most respectable, perhaps too respectable, what do you say, Jane? No title, but an old, solid family name and wonderful lands. He will be a steadying influence on the colonel. He has such high connections and such a dignified bearing, though I tease him that he seems a bit stiff—”
