Chapter Four
‘Put the brishwood back again’
Her great uncle received the news of the proposed ball at Rye with complete indifference and did not withhold his consent much to Julia’s relief. The next few days were spent in preparation for the coming event.
On the night of the ball, Julia stood before the looking glass, pleased with what she saw reflected there. Smithers had brushed her hair until it shone, and had swept it into a high chignon set with a Spanish comb. Her dress of sea-green crape over a satin slip was delicately embroidered with gold thread and her mother’s emerald and diamond drop earrings sparkled in her ears. Long kid gloves, an ivory fan, and a gold silk shawl draped around her shoulders completed her ensemble. Promptly at eight o’clock, the Wentworth carriage drew up and with warm compliments from Smithers, Mrs Knight and Ridges the manservant, Julia ventured forth to enter the chaise. Great Uncle Thomas, however, was nowhere to be seen.
They made a handsome picture and in enjoyable anticipation they made their way to the Assembly Rooms in Rye - Lady Wentworth, gracious in oyster satin with a matching turban; Susan, pretty in pink gauze with rosebuds entwined in her dusky curls; and Sir Henry resplendent in black evening dress.
It was a perfect night and in the fading light Julia watched with interest the scenery pass by as the chaise made its way towards Rye. On the precincts of the town, they joined a cortege of other carriages that were heading in the same direction, and gradually they all climbed the rise up to the Assembly Rooms adjoining the George Inn.
Outside all was noise and confusion as link boys with flaming torches shouted to each other, and coachmen barked out, ‘Make way’. Horses neighed and fidgeted while harassed grooms and footmen assisted the guests to alight from their coaches.
The proceedings were well underway when they arrived. Music filled the air and the well-proportioned room was prettily decorated with garlands of flowers. Already the dance floor held a respectable number of dancers of a wide range of ages, performing a cotillion with more zest than grace.
Julia was greeted warmly by an effusive Mr Blanding who was the Master of Ceremonies. Before long she was being introduced to most of the assembled company. Whether to dance or not was a dilemma, but, enjoying dancing as she did, her resolve wavered, and when Mr Blanding brought up a cheerful gentleman for the country dance, Julia smiled her acquiescence and stood up happily.
There was quite a crush in the Rooms and just before supper, Julia, feeling rather warm, stepped out onto the balcony with Susan to get some air. As she passed through the door, she slipped and fell forward into a strong pair of arms. A much-shaken Julia gazed upwards into laughing brown eyes framed by thick black lashes and a face she had last seen aboard a galloping horse. She felt her heart melt within her.
Lady Wentworth, who had followed behind them, managed the introductions.
‘Mr Gerald Hamilton, Miss Julia Farraday.’
‘Why thank you, sir,’ stammered Julia. ‘I am most grateful for your assistance.’
‘My pleasure, ma’am,’ said the smiling Mr Hamilton. ‘But surely we have met before?’
‘No, no. I think not, sir. However…’
‘Ah, I have it. I believe I saw you in Winchelsea just a few days ago. I was riding a somewhat unruly colt and I’m afraid I may have startled you. If so, I do beg your pardon,’ and he smiled yet again, exposing perfect teeth, a rarity amongst most men.
‘Am I permitted to ask if I may be allowed to stand up with you for the quadrille?’
Julia smiled her assent. She was mesmerised by those brown eyes and couldn’t move her own eyes from them. He graciously offered her his arm, which she took gratefully, and as if in a dream, returned to the ballroom just as the opening strains of the quadrille began.
The dance ended all too soon and as they left the floor to return to Lady Wentworth, they were approached by a slim, very fashionably dressed young man. His bow was perfection as he addressed them.
‘Hamilton, are you not going to introduce me to the best dancer in the room?’
Gerald Hamilton laughed.
‘I did not think it would take you long to be aware of that fact, Danvers. Miss Farraday, this is a friend of mine from London who is currently staying with me. Timothy Danvers, Miss Julia Farraday.’
Julia, aware of his critical eye, swept him her very best curtsy.
‘Miss Farraday has only recently left Court to come and live with her uncle, Mr Thomas Farraday, at Winchelsea.’
Julia caught a look that passed between them before Mr Danvers smoothly continued the conversation.
‘Then it is no wonder you are such an accomplished dancer, Miss Farraday. Might I beg the favour of the next dance?’
‘You may only allow him that, Miss Farraday, if you promise me the following one,’ interjected a smiling Mr Hamilton.
‘Gentlemen, a moment please!’ Julia quickly scanned her dance card and then announced, ‘Mr Danvers, it would be my pleasure to stand up with you.
‘Mr Hamilton, I am able to give you the waltz after that if you are sure you want to risk my reputation with another dance?’ she added with a teasing smile.
Timothy Danvers was about to interject but Gerald Hamilton was too quick. ‘I would be delighted and shall await the waltz with impatience.’
The opening bars of the gavotte started and Julia took Mr Danver’s arm. It was a surprise to her that Gerald Hamilton knew she had left Court and was staying with Great Uncle Thomas. She could only assume that local gossip had informed him of the fact.
As they danced, she saw Gerald Hamilton standing at the side of the dance floor, watching them with a quizzical smile on his face.
She had agreed to dance with Timothy Danvers for she knew the gavotte was the next dance on her card. The following dance was a waltz and she wanted to dance that with Mr Hamilton more than anything else in the world. For the moment though, the lively gavotte, which Mr Danvers executed in a most dashing manner, took all her attention and energy and she concentrated on the steps with a smile so her partner would not be disappointed in her performance.
The rest of the ball was like a dream. She was aware of laughing and dancing, and making polite conversation, but her senses swirled in total confusion. All she could think about was Gerald Hamilton. It didn’t seem to matter where in the room he was, she was conscious of his presence. Their eyes seemed to meet as if by accident wherever she turned, at which he would give her a rueful smile. He was too large to be fashionably handsome, the face too broad, the skin too brown, and the features ordinary, except for the eyes and teeth. However, his presence was commanding, and for such a large man he danced with a lightness that had surprised her. When he claimed her for the waltz, their steps matched perfectly and she wished the dance would never end.