She took a deep breath in and straightened her back. Poppy examined her appearance in the mirror. It was amazing the difference fine clothes, and a frivolous coiffure could make. She looked rather pretty and elegant. Poppy thanked Amy for her assistance and descended to the entrance hall. Aunt Marielle was already waiting, but Daphne was not yet down. They waited a few minutes as Aunt Marielle reassured her that she would be the best pianist there and inquiring about what she intended to play.
“I was thinking of playing one of Chopin’s études and something from Mendelssohn, but if they want me to play for the dancing, I have learned some of the latest Johann Strauss junior’s waltzes.”
Aunt Marielle’s expression brightened. “Whatever you play, I am sure it will be wonderful. James is to meet us there, and I believe he is bringing Lord Worsley with him.”
Poppy frowned. “Lord Worsley?”
“A disreputable one that, but he is recently married and violently in love with his wife and uncaring that society is aware of it.”
Poppy laughed. “I shall look forward to making his acquaintance.”
Aunt Marielle sniffed. “It is not like Worsley to attend musicales. Perhaps my nephew twisted his arm a little.”
Then just as the carriage had been drawn around, Daphne dashed down the stairs wearing a lovely deep wine gown trimmed with golden ribbons. It was fussier than Poppy’s gown having several deep layered frills to the skirt, but Daphne had suggested that simpler styles would flatter Poppy more as deep frills would accentuate her lack of inches in height.
They were handed into the carriage, and they set off for the short journey to Lord and Lady Sanders’ home. They were still relatively early. Half a dozen carriages were queuing to disembark their passengers. Still, according to Daphne, many more would be expected, although Lady Sanders had disclosed that it was to be a small select gathering.
“The last event that Lady Sanders said would be small, admitted at least three hundred people, Poppy, so do not expect it not to be a crush! I am glad that we indicated that you would be prepared to play when we accepted the invitation because I suspect the organization will be challenging and that those who expect to be slotted into the program last minute will be unable to perform,” Daphne said, smiling and looking around.
Poppy leaned closer to Daphne and said, “I think the largest group I have ever performed for was about fifty, and that was for a country dance in the village after one Clarence Withers finally married Abigail Cubbins, which as she had borne him two children already out of wedlock was an event much anticipated.”
Daphne gasped. “Already out of wedlock? The scandal.”
Poppy chuckled, enjoying just chatting with Daphne. A friendship was forming between them, and Poppy, at times, wanted to hug her. She’d had so few friends in her life. Everyone Poppy had gotten close to in the village, her stepmother had disapproved of the association. “Very much so. We were all thrilled when he came up to scratch. I think almost everyone was in their cups after I had played the first three dances.”
“Oh, you must have been frightened…”
“Not really, I had known most of them all my life, and they treated me like Dresden porcelain. Old Preacher Calvin Hobson escorted me to the hall and backed and watched over me the whole time. It was at his urging that I played, although the village band played too. I think they were more to be praised for their determination than their skill at playing. I concluded that one of the fiddlers was playing a completely different tune in counterpoint to the main one for some of the time,” Poppy laughed back.
Daphne tried to suppress a burst of laughter, but Aunt Marielle made no such attempt, doubling up and then having to wipe her eyes with her handkerchief. The carriage pulled forward and now only had one carriage ahead of them. That carriage, however, disgorged Lord and Lady Hayes, Rebecca, and Mrs. Ashford.
Poppy leaned back from the carriage window, not wanting to have them spot her and have to make conversation with them. She could not bear their spiteful tongues and nasty remarks. Not yet. However, none of her sisters or stepmother looked back as they strolled up to the front door of the mansion.
“I was hoping they would cry off,” Poppy said with a sigh.
“Courage, Poppy. We will stare them down. You have every right to be here, and if your stepmother had any family decency, she would have brought you out years ago,” Daphne said tersely, revealing her partisanship for Poppy’s cause.
It was a warm night, and so no coats had been worn, as it was not a formal ball, no receiving line was held, but waiters were distributing glasses of some fine white wine, which the ladies accepted. James was waiting, looking very handsome in the entrance hall. His bronze brocade waistcoat almost matched Poppy’s gown, which she thought a favorable augury or coincidence. She did wonder as she smiled and curtsied to him whether it had been deliberate on his part.
“Daphne, you look delightful as usual,” James said to his sister. “Aunt Marielle, that is a stunning new gown, very imperial.”
Aunt Marielle had chosen to dress in rich purple and wore a hair ornament that displayed some fine amethysts and pearls in her steel-grey hair. But while he spoke, his eyes were eating up Poppy’s appearance. Poppy thought James looked a little uncomfortable as if his normal unruffled demeanor had been unsettled by something. James continued, bowing over her hand. “Miss Ashford, you look simply stunning.”
Warmth flowered throughout her body at the sincerity in his tone and the measured way he stared at her. As if he could not help himself. As if he wanted to say more but did not dare.
James waved his hand to a handsome gentleman standing by his side. “May I introduce you to Viscount Worsley, A good friend of mine. Do not let him lead you astray.”
Poppy frowned slightly, recalling the rules of etiquette Daphne and Aunt Marielle had painstakingly mentioned. She smiled when she realized what was amiss. “My lord, you know perfectly well that you should have introduced Lord Worsley to me, as his importance is far elevated above mine.”
“I am honored to make you acquaintance, Miss Ashford and my rank defers to your beauty,” Worsley said, bowing flamboyantly over her hand, his gray-blue eyes glittering with humor.
James rolled his eyes, and Poppy swallowed her laugh. Lord Worsley offered Poppy his arm, and James walked between his relations. They headed into a grand ballroom that had been set with rows of chairs for the musicale. There were also stands and chairs set for an orchestra, a grand piano, and a full-size harp.
Lady Sanders bustled over, and James made the introduction to Poppy, this time correctly. Poppy took in the full glory of Lady Sanders, who was a lady of about sixty years of age. Her hair was white and severely restrained but topped by a small tiara of fine diamonds. Their hostess wore a dark pink gown of which the skirt had several scalloped flounces which were edged dramatically in scarlet. She creaked and wheezed a little as she moved and wafted with an overpowering perfume that contained many floral scents.
In her hand, Lady Sanders held a slightly crumpled list and a pencil dangled from her wrist, and she crossed off Poppy’s name, which indicated that she was to play fifth.
“Very pleased to meet you, Miss Ashford. I have heard great things of your playing.”
Poppy jolted and sent a swift glance at James, who widened his eyes innocently.