“I will read it when you go back to Honeyfield for thewedding.”
“Asyouwish.”
* * *
It wasthe evening of Bartley’s dinner party. Lydia had not had one word from Daniel since he had taken her to the British Museum and lunch. And while Ellen was going to the party with Bartley, Lydia had no one toaccompanyher.
This had proved awkward, so Ellen had come to the rescue by having a friend of Barkley’s agree to escort her. Ellen, Lydia, and the friend, David Cavanaugh, were to go to the party together, as Bartley would already be at Rules, hosting hisparty.
As Ellen had promised, they had gone shopping for gowns, and Ellen had gifted Lydia with two splendid new dresses—one was a fine ball gown, and the second was a handsome dressy daytime ensemble. Tonight she was wearing the newballgown.
Lydia was chatting with David, her evening’s escort, in the parlor when Ellenentered.
“Oh, Lydia, how wonderful you look. That new gown fits youperfectly.”
“Thank you. I have never had a bespoke gown before. It is lovely and verycomfortable.
Ellen turned to David. “Mr. Cavanaugh. What a pleasure to meet you. Bartley speaks so highlyofyou.”
David was a dimpled, rather stout young man with thinning hair and rosy cheeks. “And he of you. He tells me how much he admires your writing and is urging his father to publish itforyou.”
“That is so. Would you care for a glass of champagne before we leave for the party?” Ellenasked.
“Oh, not for me,” David said, waving his hand as though he’d been asked to eat something raw from a pond. “I am tea-total.”
“I see.” She turned to Lydia. “And you,mydear?”
“I am content to wait until the party. I am quite sure there will be ample food and drinkthere.”
“Ellen was a little nonplussed. “Very well then, let us go on to theparty.”
* * *
Rules was a well-respectedand popular London restaurant. Daniel had reserved the entire establishment for the evening. As Ellen’s party arrived, they were greeted by Bartley at theentrance.
“How jolly, you made it exactly on time. Come right in. The ladies’ coatroom is to your left, the gentleman’s on the right. The party is right up the stairs on the first floor. I will see you thereshortly.”
Ellen and Lydia headed to the ladies’ coatroom. They surrendered their wraps to the attendant and headed back out to the lobby to meet David who was already waitingforthem.
“Ladies, shall we attend the party?” he asked, as he offered them eachanarm.
They climbed the stairs and came into a large room. It was beautifully decorated and lit by the new rage—gaslights. There was an orchestra already playing, dancers on a modest sized dance floor, and tables filling the rest oftheroom.
Bartley saw them and came over, gave Ellen a kiss on the cheek and tookherarm.
“What a splendid place, eh? I have reserved you the best table.” He led them to it. “Please make yourselves comfortable and have an enjoyable evening. I must still be the host and mingle with my guests,” he turned to Ellen, “but I hope you will save me several dances,” he asked, smiling as he looked intohereyes.
“Of course, Bartley, why else would Ibehere?”
That seemed to please him. “Then I shall claim my dances throughout the evening. Oh, and there is a buffet over there, and I have ordered a bottle of champagne for your table, which should arriveshortly.”
“Thank you, Bartley, you are most kind to include me,”Lydiasaid.
“My great pleasure, Miss Lydia,” he said, as he took her hand andkissedit.
After he left, a waiter came with an ice bucket of champagne and served the two ladies—David announcing he was tea-total.
As she sipped her champagne Lydia took a moment to survey the room. What a gay event! Even the ball at Honeyfield could not compare to the splendor of a London party such as this. The lady’s gowns were most beautiful, and the gentlemen were dressed as elegantly as any men she had ever seen. The buffet table groaned under a scrumptious looking array of delicacies and the music was lively andcharming.
