First Season Page 17

“Yes, Lord Woodburn,” he replied. “He has been asking me up for several years. That is an excellent idea, Emily. I shall be pleased to escort you to Derbyshire this autumn,” he declared.

  Chapter Twelve

  Squire Biddle gave his consent to his daughter’s betrothal to Thomas Goodman with some misgivings. He had nothing against Tom Goodman, he was a steady man and a hard worker, and would be a good and faithful husband. Nor did he think a squire’s daughter above a farmer’s son, or hesitate because of Hetty’s fortune. The Goodmans owned their own land, and were one of the most prosperous families in the district, not barring those of noble blood. What gave him pause was Hetty’s affect. Although she claimed to love Tom, Squire Biddle rather thought his daughter did not truly know what love between a man and woman was. Well, perhaps Thomas Goodman would awaken her. The squire gave his blessing, but urged a long engagement.

  Hetty saw little of her betrothed during the remainder of the summer. He was busy with his father working on the farm, for the Goodman’s farm was very large and demanded the full attention of the entire family throughout the summer months. Hetty did call on Tom’s mother several times, and good-naturedly endured the teasing of his younger sisters. It had already been decided that she and Tom would live in their own house, but near to his family. Farmer Goodman owned a considerable amount of land, and his wedding present to his son would be a beautiful piece halfway between the Goodman farm and the squire’s, where their house would be built.

  On the whole, Hetty was content with her betrothal, although there were times she would remember dancing through an elaborately decorated ballroom in the arms of Lord Arlington, Lord Courtney, or, most often, Lord Wakeford and a wistful longing would tinge her expression.

  Her correspondence with Lady Emily Wakeford flourished, but for a reason Hetty did not understand herself she had not told Lady Emily of her betrothal to Thomas Goodman. Every time she received a letter from Lady Emily her omission made her feel uneasy, but she quieted her conscience with the rationalization that it would be better to tell her in person since Lady Emily planned to come for a long stay with the Biddles in late September.

  As the summer slowly transformed into fall, the social season of the country commenced. To the surprise of the inhabitants of the quiet Derbyshire district, the autumn social season promised to be a very full one, for several gentlemen who had had standing invitations to hunt in the district for many years all chose this same year to accept their invitations. No one connected this with the presence of the young heiress in their midst, but it was indeed Hetty who was the attraction. The London beaus had no intention of allowing Miss Biddle’s fifty thousand pounds to escape so easily. The scandal of the duel had long ago been replaced by newer on-dits. Besides, of what concern was a duel when the duns were at one’s door? It took only a few discreet inquiries to find where Miss Biddle lived, and the prospective suitors remembered invitations issued long ago to hunt the Derbyshire countryside. If the squire and Mrs. Biddle suspected the truth, they did not share their suspicions with Hetty, for they knew it would only make their daughter self-conscious and uncomfortable.

  The only guest from London that Hetty was excited about was Lady Emily Wakeford. True to her promise, her friend wrote that she would be arriving the last week of September, and that her brother, who would be staying at Lord Woodburn’s, would escort her there. This last news was a surprise to Hetty, and strangely unwelcome. She felt renewed guilt that she had not told Lady Emily of her betrothal to Tom Goodman, and wondered if the knowledge would have made a difference in Lord Wakeford’s decision to come to Derbyshire. Then she scolded herself severely for making the assumption that knowing of her betrothal could make any difference in Lord Wakeford’s plans. How could she be that full of conceit? Lord Wakeford had shown not the slightest interest in her or her doings since she had returned home. Still, Hetty dreaded her initial meeting with Lord Wakeford.

  As it turned out, Hetty was spared meeting Lord Wakeford when Lady Emily arrived, for they came while she was out. Hetty returned home one afternoon from a call on the Goodmans to find her friend talking easily with her mother.

  “Lady Emily!” Hetty exclaimed, rushing forward.

  Lady Emily rose at Hetty’s entrance and held out her hands. As Hetty pressed her friend’s hands in welcome, Mrs. Biddle excused herself and left the two friends alone.

  “Oh, there is so much I want to ask, and so much to tell!” Hetty exclaimed to her friend.

  They talked vivaciously for several minutes. Then, remembering the news she had not previously told Lady Wakeford, Hetty informed her friend of her betrothal.

  “You are betrothed?” Lady Emily repeated with surprise. “Is this a recent occurence? You did not mention it in your letters.”

  “No—” Hetty hesitated. “I—I suppose I felt I would like to give you such information in person,” she explained weakly, knowing her excuse must sound strange to Lady Emily, for a betrothal was normally something one wished to inform one’s friends of immediately.

  “May I ask who the gentleman is?”

  “He is Thomas Goodman, the son of a farmer in the district. They are one of the most prosperous families in Derbyshire,” Hetty added a little defensively, and then felt abashed for having felt the need to defend the Goodmans to Lady Emily.

  “I shall look forward to making Mr. Goodman’s acquaintance,” Lady Emily said simply, and Hetty felt she had come through the announcement of her betrothal easier than she had expected she would.

  Lady Emily’s wish to meet Thomas Goodman was granted shortly, for the Biddles had been invited to supper at the Goodmans’ the next evening, and the invitation was extended to include the Biddles’ guest as well.

  Hetty, remembering the superior and condescending behavior of many of the ton in London, had some misgivings as to whether Lady Emily would fit in and be comfortable with a simple farming family. But Hetty had reckoned without the impeccable breeding of her friend, whose perfection of manners allowed her to be at ease in any society. Lady Emily did not exhibit a trace of condescension in her manner toward the Goodmans, and appeared genuinely pleased to meet them. She greeted Mr. and Mrs. Goodman cordially, and admired their house and land with a sincerity that was not to be doubted.

  Then the moment Hetty had been anticipating most anxiously was upon her, and she presented Tom Goodman to her friend. But Hetty found she need not have worried about that meeting either. The two looked at each other frankly and assessingly, and the smiles that came over the faces of both indicated that each approved the other. In great good humour the party gathered around the Goodman’s large heavily laden table for supper.

  After a hearty meal of partridge, hares, asparagus, and preserved gooseberries, Mrs. Goodman and the other women went in to the Goodmans’ small, cozy parlor to visit while the gentlemen remained at the table to smoke and talk.

  To the evident dismay of Mrs. Goodman, Tom’s sisters, particularly young Betsey, monopolized Lady Emily’s company, admiring her clothes and asking interminable questions about the latest London fashions and gossip.

  “Now Betsey, leave her ladyship be,” Mrs. Goodman ordered her young daughter.

  “It is quite all right, Mrs. Goodman,” Lady Emily said with great good nature. “I am happy to describe the latest fashions to your daughters. But,” she added with a smile, “you must keep your promise to show me the kittens before I go.”

  An hour later the gentlemen joined the ladies to find Hetty and Lady Emily sitting on the floor surrounded by the Goodman daughters while six tiny kittens pounced and batted at the women’s gowns.

  “Here now Betsey, Susan, Caroline, Margaret! Lady Emily will be thinking my sisters are proper hoydens. Take the kittens back to the barn and let her ladyship sit properly on a chair,” Tom ordered.

  “But Tom, Lady Emily wants to keep the white one,” his youngest sister protested.

  “Indeed I would like to keep it, Mr. Goodman, if that is acceptable to you,” Lady Emily
said with a smile as she and Hetty rose from the floor, brushing cat hair from their skirts.

  “Then find a basket for it, Susan,” Tom suggested. “Her ladyship will have a difficult time taking her with her otherwise.”

  As Susan ran off to find a basket for the kitten, Mrs. Goodman asked Hetty if she would favor the company with a selection on the small square pianoforte that was the pride of the Goodmans’ parlor. Hetty complied good-naturedly, although she was not an accomplished performer. As she played several simple country airs, Hetty was pleased to see that Tom and Lady Emily were conversing together in quiet tones. She had not needed to worry that her London friend would snub the Goodmans.

  When Hetty completed her meager repertoire, Mrs. Goodman asked Lady Emily if she would care to play, and she agreed, rising to take Hetty’s place at the piano. As happy lilting tunes poured from the instrument, Hetty thought unenviously that Lady Emily’s playing quite put her own to shame. Impressed with Lady Emily’s skill, the whole company remained silent as her fingers moved unerringly over the keys. Tom seemed particulary fascinated by her proficiency, and drew near the pianoforte to watch.

  When Lady Emily rose from the instrument the Goodman sisters displayed their talent while card tables were set up and the evening ended in a spirited game of whist.

  The morning following their evening at the Goodman’s the meeting Hetty had been dreading occurred. Lord Wakeford came to call to pay his respects to Squire and Mrs. Biddle and to thank them for their hospitality to his sister. Hetty had not heard him arrive and entered the room unprepared. Upon seeing Lord Wakeford she turned, hoping to leave before she was seen, but her mother had already seen her.

  “Hetty, come pay your respects to Lord Wakeford,” she called.

  “Good morning, Lord Wakeford,” Hetty said hesitantly. “Lady Emily is out for a ride, but she should return soon.”

  “Miss Biddle,” he said with a slight now. “I wished to tell you how gratified I am by your invitation to my sister, she has looked forward to the visit these two months.

  “I also came bearing an invitation from Lord Woodburn, at whose estate I am staying,” he added. “He plans a ball for two nights hence.”

  “Which we shall be delighted to attend,” Squire Biddle assured his visitor. “Now, Lord Wakeford, let me tell you what fine partridge hunting I have here. You and Woodburn must join me one morning.”

  As Lord Wakeford turned his attention to the squire, Hetty quietly left the room, her heart racing and palms moist in reaction to the sudden meeting. What had he thought of her, here in her native Derbyshire? She had not been able to guess from his carefully courteous manner. And why had he caome? Had it only been to escort his sister, or could he possibly have wished to see her as well? Did he ever remember those moments of rapport that were so deeply engraved on her own memory? Or had her attempt to elope with Lord Courtney given him a disgust of her, as she had sometimes feared from his silence. She could not tell.

  Hetty dressed with great care for the ball at the Woodburns’, telling herself it was for the benefit of Tom Goodman, who would also be in attendance. Company was more democratic in the country, and prosperous commoners were regularly included in invitations to entertainments. Moreover, Tom’s three oldest sisters were sought-after dance partners.

  Hetty had Daisy set out one of her favorite gowns for the ball, one she had ordered in London but never before worn, a tunic dress of white edged in gold trim and worn over an underdress of deep blue silk. Daisy fastened the gown about her mistress and adjusted the folds while Hetty threaded a white ribbon through her dark curls. She completed her toilette with jeweled white-satin slippers, a painted chicken-skin fan and a blue satin reticule and inspected her image in the glass. The reflection that smiled at her was quite satisfying, and Hetty descended to join the others.

  “You look well, Hetty,” Mrs. Biddle said with satisfaction as her daughter entered the room.

  “As do you, Mama,” Hetty replied, thinking that her mother presented quite an impressive figure in her diamond-figured buff silk gown trimmed with a matching lace flounce.

  Lady Emily descended the stairs wearing a simple chemise dress of white muslin with a gathered neckline, trimmed in green ribbons. Her chestnut hair had been brushed until it shone, and although she wore it in an unfashionable braid wound about her head, it gave her an almost regal appearance. Hetty marveled unenviously at her friend’s fair beauty.

  Squire Biddle, whose single concession to fashion was his waistcoat of white cotton dimity striped with pink and yellow silk embroidery, entered soon afterward, complimented the women of his party on their fine appearance, and the four set off for the ball in high good humor.

  Lord Woodburn’s estate was the largest in the district, and nearly everyone in the district plus their guests had been invited. As the Biddles joined the others in the crowded hall, Hetty was taken aback at the number of London gentlemen present. She had known several had arrived in the district for hunting, but she was astonished to find that she recognized most of the gentlemen; in fact, many were former suitors. She was even more astonished as they made themselves known to her and requested dances, behaving as though the scandal of the duel had never happened. She commented on it to Lady Emily.

  “Why do you think it is that so many London gentlemen have come for the shooting in Derbyshire this autumn?” she asked, and then a thought struck her. “Is it because you are here this autumn, Lady Emily?”

  Emily laughed. “I rather think you are the reason so many gentlemen have suddenly desired the fresh Derbyshire air, Miss Biddle,” she said dryly.

  “I?” Hetty repeated. “Oh, you mean my fortune,” Hetty said cynically as understanding dawned. “But I am betrothed to Mr. Goodman.”

  “Like me, they would have known that when they came, and once they were here— well, they no doubt believe you would much prefer a gentleman to a farmer’s son,” Lady Emily explained even more cynically.

  “Never! Mr. Goodman is worth ten of them,” Hetty said fervently, bringing a smile to her friend’s face.

  “I quite agree with you, Miss Biddle,” Lady Emily stated as Lord Woodburn approached to request Lady Emily’s hand for the first dance.

  Tom Goodman came shortly afterward to ask Hetty to partner him, and for the next hour both Hetty and Lady Emily found themselves much in demand. Hetty enjoyed her popularity, but allowed the London gentlemen only one dance each, much preferring to dance with Tom Goodman and her Derbyshire neighbors.

  Midway through the evening Hetty was standing next to her mother, catching her breath after the exertion of a long country dance, when, to her horror, Hetty saw none other than Lord Satre advancing across the floor. She had not heard Lord Satre was in Derbyshire, and as he approached all her old fears rushed back. Faltering, Hetty presented her mother to Lord Satre as etiquette demanded. Mrs. Biddle, suddenly every inch an earl’s granddaughter, acknowledged the introduction coolly, and Hetty knew her mother remembered the stories she had told her. Hetty’s fears receded. Lord Satre could not hurt her here in Derbyshire amongst her friends and family.

  “May I congratulate you on your betrothal and wish you every happiness, Miss Biddle?” Lord Satre said, turning to Hetty.

  “Thank you, Lord Satre,” Hetty replied with dignity.

  “I trust your betrothed would not object to your allowing me the pleasure of one dance?”

  Hetty accepted as courtesy dictated, and Lord Satre led her onto the floor. His words were impeccably civil, but Hetty knew, from the glint in his eyes, that she had had two near escapes in London, not one. She wished she might never see the older peer again, but Lord Satre had mentioned he was a guest of Sir Archer’s and Hetty knew she would have to resign herself to seeing him at all the neighborhood entertainments.

  To her relief, Lord Satre did not approach her again that evening, but Hetty remained aware of his movements and saw him lead Lady Emily out for the next dance. Later in the evening, to her surprise, Hetty saw
Lord Satre dance twice with Betsey Goodman.

  After her own second dance with Tom Goodman, Hetty was sat with her mother to rest when she saw Lord Wakeford approaching. He was dressed in the style the Beau was making de rigueur in London—blue coat, white waistcoat, tight-fitting dark blue pantaloons over striped silk stockings, black shoes with buckles, and a beautifully tied white cravat. And although Hetty despised herself for the comparison, she could not help but compare Lord Wakeford to Tom Goodman, who looked neat but unfashionable in his suit of brown wool broadcloth.

  “Miss Biddle, might I have the pleasure of partnering you for this set?” the marquess asked with a bow.

  “I shall be honored, Lord Wakeford,” Hetty replied, disconcerted to note that her heart raced at the thought of dancing with him again in a way it had not during her dances with Mr. Goodman.

  As they took their places on the floor, Hetty was taken back to the wonderful dance with Lord Wakeford in London when they had moved as one and everything and everyone else had disappeared. But as Lord Wakeford took his place across from her in the set his expression was cool and remote and Hetty, feeling unaccountably rejected, became silent and withdrawn.

  They danced together with correct but restrained elegance, very much absorbed in each other despite their coolness. Niether Hetty nor Lord Wakeford noticed Lady Emily and Thomas Goodman as they passed near them, although they were observed closely by the other couple. When the set ended, Lord Wakeford returned Hetty to Mrs. Biddle and did not ask Hetty to save another dance for him later that evening.

  As Hetty danced a third time with Tom Goodman, she felt for the first time that she had indeed made the correct decision to accept Tom’s offer. Tom at least was happy in her company. How could she have had doubts or thought fondly of Lord Wakeford, cold London gentleman that he was?

  Jules watched Hetty dance with her betrothed from the sidelines as he sipped at a glass of punch. Fool that he was, he had not understood the extent of his feelings for Miss Biddle until he had heard of her betrothal to Mr. Goodman from Lord Woodburn. The news had been a shock, and he had realized what he had been seeking since the end of the Season earlier that summer, and why the usual pursuits of a London gentleman had suddenly seemed meaningless and paltry. He could not blame Miss Biddle for being unaware of his feelings given he had not known them himself. How could she have had the slightest inkling when he had been mainly responsible for making her a figure of fun to London Society?