“Where are the library candlesticks?” Henrietta demanded furiously when Helen and the children met her in the passage. “How can they just vanish?”
“They can’t, of course,” Helen replied. “Shall we help you to look for them?”
“Yes, please,” Henrietta said. “I need them for the supper room downstairs. They are particularly handsome wrought silver. Not the ones on the mantelpiece.”
As she ran off gratefully about other business, Helen and the children scoured every corner and cupboard of the library for the candlesticks, and found none that fitted the description. In the end, they took her what they did find and she exclaimed in annoyance that they would have to do. After which, she hugged her siblings and cast an apologetic smile at Helen, presumably for her uncharacteristic ill-nature.
“What is the matter with Henrie?” Horatio demanded.
“I expect she is nervous about the success of the ball,” Helen said. “This is her first as hostess, and she wants everything to be right for Lord Silford and Mr. Cromarty.”
“Don’t see that a wretched candlestick will make any difference to that,” George said scornfully. “Besides, Sydney doesn’t give a jot for that kind of thing.”
“No, probably not, but she would like everything to be perfect, so we must all help.” She cast a severe glance around them all. “And that includes the time you spend in the ballroom this evening!”
*
Cranston bustled in with the ballgown almost as soon as Helen retired to change after dinner. To her surprise, the dresser stayed to fasten the garment and be sure it fit. Then she sat Helen down and with impressive speed, unpinned her hair, stroked it barely twice with the brush and re-pinned it. Then, with a faint smile and a nod, she was gone.
Blinking after her, Helen rose and walked to the glass.
If things had been different, this is how she would have wanted to look. Elegant in a simple, unfussy style. The green watered silk, unadorned with jewels or excessive lace, had a short train, and the neck was modestly cut above her breasts. The style of her hair had not been altered much, just loosened so that it appeared somewhat softer. Helen thought she looked rather well, enough to remind the company that she was a lady, without denying she was the governess to a nobleman’s children.
Taking a deep breath to squash the foolish excitement that had been trying to rise all day, she went to find the children. They were scrubbed and clean, the boys in their Sunday suits, and Eliza in her best dress.
“Why, Miss Milsom, you are beautiful!” Horatio exclaimed.
“She has always been beautiful,” Eliza said unexpectedly. She smiled. “But that is a lovely dress.”
“So is yours,” Helen assured. “Very well, let us go down to the ballroom. Remember to be on your best behavior. No shouting, running, or quarreling!”
Henrietta and Lord Silford were already in the otherwise deserted, echoing ballroom, though there seemed little enough for them to do. Chandeliers and wall sconces were ablaze with candles, and the servants were making any last-minute adjustments required.
Henrietta flitted up to them at once and presented her siblings to the earl, who chose to be gracious.
“And Miss Milsom, their governess,” Henrietta murmured.
Silford’s fierce old eyes rested on her with unexpected interest. “A lady of character, I apprehend,”
“I hope so, my lord,” she replied.
“Hmm. We’ve never spoken before, have we?”
“No, my lord.”
“Very glad to meet you. Your charges are a credit to you,” He swung away. “Where the devil is Sydney?”
“He’ll be here,” Henrietta soothed. “Miss Milsom, I thought this was a good place,” she added, leading the way across the polished dance floor to a discreet corner near the back, where there was a round sofa and a table. “You will be able to see everything. And you may leave discreetly by this door at the back if you prefer. One hour, you three! And you must go when Miss Milsom says. I’ll get someone to bring you lemonade before the guests begin to arrive…”
As she fluttered off again, Helen was glad she had not mentioned the gown. It made her feel less self-conscious. She was merely here to accompany the children in a manner that would not disgrace her noble employers.
A footman brought lemonade for the children and winked at them before rushing off as the first guests began to arrive.
In no time, the ballroom was full of noise and color, the glitter of jewels, and the scent of expensive perfumes. The orchestra on the raised dais opposite the children, began to play, and the dancing began.
“It’s like a painting,” Eliza said in awe.
“I defy any painter to imagine that turban,” George remarked, nodding at a remarkable matron in a headdress packed with what looked like fruit and enormously tall feathers.
The twins giggled and began a contest to discover a garment even more ridiculous. Helen warned them to keep their voices down.
From time to time, they were visited by family and other amiable guests. Richard, looking very grown-up, swaggered over to them with a glass of champagne in his hand, although in seconds, he, too, had sniggered at the turban and had joined the search for one more outrageous. Lord and Lady Overton appeared at separate times to make sure they were behaving, as did their eldest daughter, Lady Dunstan. Anne Marshall waved to them from across the room, until her mother seized her hand with a few chastening words. Sydney Cromarty strolled by, ruffled the boys’ hair and grinned at Eliza and Helen.
If Helen had been secretly hoping Sir Marcus might sit with them for a moment or two, she was doomed to disappointment. She saw him once, waltzing past with Henrietta in his arms, but he did not even appear to notice them.
Philip did. Strolling past, he glanced at them and away before rather comically swinging back for a longer stare. He changed direction, swerving toward them, and sat on the edge of the sofa next to Helen, without even acknowledging the presence of the children.
“I did not hope to see you here,” he told her.
“I’m merely chaperoning the children for an hour before they retire.”
“Will you dance with me?”
She blinked. “I can’t. I am here only in my duty as their governess.”
He spared them a glance. “Dash it, you’re not teaching them! And they don’t seem about to run amok.”
“Nevertheless, I must stay with them.”
“Oh, well.” Philip stood up again. “I wish you joy of your duty.”
Had he always been this petulant? She didn’t think so, although memory played tricks on one. She began to suspect he was not an entirely contented man.
Just in time, she spotted George and Horatio with a marble they were planning to roll across the dance floor to Richard on the other side. Confiscating it, she made both boys turn out their pockets, which revealed four more. She glared at them, and they handed over the offending articles without a word.
“Anne isn’t dancing,” Eliza observed. “She hasn’t danced once this evening.”
Shifting position, Helen saw Anne sitting straight-backed by her mother, her eyes wide, more than ever resembling that startled deer. Couples were moving on to the floor, forming sets for the next country dance. Among them, Helen saw the other two debutantes, Richard, Mr. Webster, Lord Dunstan… And Sir Marcus, walking up to Anne.