“I don’t think his trip was planned,” Miss Kenyon interjected. “He took only one portmanteau, and the footman said he looked frightened. Kept looking over his shoulder, his eyes wide as saucers, as though he was being pursued.”
“Pursued by debt collectors, perhaps,” Georgia said.
The group turned to look at her. “My uncle and father warned me off him should Sir Rupert seek an introduction,” she explained. “They said the man is a scoundrel and is only seeking a wife for her dowry.”
“When?” Ashley wished someone had shared this information with her a few weeks ago, before she’d accepted that first dance invitation from Sir Rupert.
Georgia tapped her bottom lip with her index finger while she thought. “Yesterday. Or possibly the day before. I don’t believe I’d even heard his name before Uncle David mentioned him.”
Lady Bristol gestured for everyone to hush, and they quickly took seats. The sisters had finished their song, and now Amber Barrow-Smith stood at the pianoforte nervously adjusting her gloves and shawl. Eager to hear a former student, Ashley gave the girl her full attention.
Amber was tentative at first, her voice growing stronger the further she went along, singing about her one true love. Her accompanist struck a few wrong notes but Amber seemed not to notice.
“Oh, dear,” Lady Mansfield muttered, looking between Amber and someone in the audience.
Ashley craned her neck and finally saw who Amber seemed to be singing to—a young man in a bright jonquil coat and floral print neckcloth. His expression could only be described as rapturous, clearly just as smitten with Amber.
“Is he not a suitable match?”
Lady Mansfield gave a tight shake of her head. “Her parents have already rejected his suit. Though it appears neither of them are deterred. It doesn’t appear her chaperone, Mrs. Driscoll, is having any better luck.”
Their true love, Amber sang, was so strong that the thwarted lovers would live together or perish together. “Oh dear, indeed,” Ashley muttered.
Amber finished her song and blushed while curtsying to the applause, and she and Mrs. Driscoll took seats in the audience.
Another duo sang, then a trio playing flute, harp, and lyre. All were young women showing off their accomplishments in a typical Marriage Mart activity. Perhaps Ashley would be perceived as less of a bluestocking, and have a better chance at making a match, if she were to polish a song to sing or play, and find an opportunity like tonight’s event to show off her talent, just like these women.
Did she have a song fit to perform in such a setting? Did she even want to put herself on display in such a manner? Could she attract someone other than reprobates like Rupert, or widowers? Her aunt and uncle hoped she would make a match, of course, as had Ashley at the start of the Season. After several men expressed distaste for her recent history working at the academy—they said they wanted a biddable wife, not a bluestocking—she had changed goals.
Now her first priority, after securing a position at another school, for which she’d already sent out inquiries, was simply to dance. Nearly on the shelf, after years at school where she performed the man’s part so the students could learn the steps, she just wanted to dance the lady’s part. With men. So many of the country’s young men had gone off to war, many of the smaller towns and villages were desperately short on dance partners of the male variety. Even when Ashley accompanied the older girls to assemblies in Torquay, she usually had to be one of the women wearing a sash that indicated her willingness and ability to dance the man’s part.
Everyone at Madame Zavrina’s academy participated in music lessons. The teachers and staff had to lead by example, to display every attribute and skill the students were required to learn and develop. The townhouse Uncle Edward had rented for the Season had a well-tuned pianoforte in the drawing room, and Ashley had occupied many hours playing it with competence if not great talent.
Polite applause brought Ashley back to the present. The latest trio to sing and play took their seats, and Lady Bristol waved over two men, one in his mid-fifties, the other in his late twenties, who bore a strong family resemblance.
“It is not just the young ladies who are going to show off their talents for us tonight,” Lady Bristol said. “I have a special treat for us.” She introduced the father-son pair, and they began to sing without any accompaniment.
Ashley tried not to wince when the father’s baritone was often flat, and the son sang overly loud tenor with more enthusiasm than actual skill. They were trying, though, so she listened with polite interest.
“Mr. Grantham is looking for wife number three,” Lady Mansfield leaned over to whisper to Ashley. “Six thousand a year, and he has his heir here plus two spares at home, so I don’t think he’s looking to have more children. I can arrange an introduction if you like.”
He wasn’t an appropriate match for Georgia. Ashley chose to view Lady Mansfield’s willingness to pass him on to her daughter’s friend as a kind gesture rather than a comment on Ashley’s impending spinsterhood. She was spared having to reply as Lord Mansfield leaned over to his wife to quietly complain that Lord Templeton had not arrived yet.
The duo blessedly finished their song, bowed, and sat back down. Lady Bristol looked expectantly at Lord Mansfield. He shook his head.
His refusal seemed to throw Lady Bristol off-kilter, but she quickly rallied and invited up a quartet of young men. As they took up positions, their apparent leader, a handsome gentleman with romantic black curls and piercing blue eyes, looked at each woman in the audience. His gaze lingered over the young misses, and he seemed to delight in being the center of their attention.
“Lord Leighton,” Lady Mansfield leaned over to whisper to Ashley and Georgia. “Don’t be taken in by his looks and charm. His father bankrupted the estate. He hasn’t a feather to fly with.”
Suitably warned, Ashley sat back and enjoyed the performance—the preening as well as the singing, for clearly all four men were trying to appeal to the fairer sex.
After another shake of Lord Mansfield’s head, Lady Bristol made a small hand gesture, and a footman passed a message through to the next room. Four gentlemen, led by Lord Bristol and all wearing matching red neckcloths, soon entered the drawing room. He settled on the bench at the pianoforte and arranged a sheaf of music.
“I have the privilege of listening to their rehearsals, and tonight I share with you the winners of last year’s top singing prize at the Noblemen’s and Gentlemen’s Catch Club.” With a nod to her husband, Lady Bristol sat down and the men began.
After a small commotion at the back of the room, Lord Mansfield kissed his wife on the cheek and left.
Lord Bristol played the introductory stanza, then began to sing as he accompanied himself. Ashley was transfixed by his lovely baritone voice, joined on the next stanza by the bass and two tenors standing beside him. With wonderful harmony they sang of valor in battle. After the second verse, they encouraged the audience to join in on the chorus. Sharing a grin with Georgia, Ashley sang the familiar words, goosebumps raising on her arms as she felt the room swell with the sound of voices raised in unison. At the end of the song, the audience erupted in applause and subtle foot stomps.
