‘No need to be. I—’ He stopped suddenly as Miss Bannister gave a loud snort and opened her eyes to find her charge apparently in intimate conversation with a strange young man. She had heard Lady Trent scolding Esme—Rosemary never had learned to lower her voice—and it was plain that a young gentleman was involved. No doubt this was he.
‘Miss Bannister, may I present Lord Pendlebury?’ Esme said, knowing perfectly well that she was flattering the old lady by the formal introduction. One simply did not introduce one’s servants to one’s acquaintances. But Banny was more than a servant—she was a friend, a confidante, an ally.
Miss Bannister hastily adjusted her bonnet. ‘How do you do, my lord?’
‘Banny is my dear friend and companion,’ Esme told him.
‘You are indeed fortunate,’ he told Esme while smiling at Banny and quite winning her over, though she knew she had been very remiss in her duty towards her charge.
‘His lordship is an accomplished artist,’ Esme said. ‘He has been showing me how to draw a horse.’
‘So I see.’ She stood up a little shakily and Felix rose to take her elbow to steady her, but let her go the moment she had found her balance. ‘Now I am rested and it is time we returned home. Come, my lady.’ The formal address was for his lordship’s benefit. ‘Good day to you, my lord.’
Esme gathered up her sketching pad and pencils and murmured, ‘Goodbye, my lord’, before following her.
He sat down again, picking up his own sketching book from the seat beside him. He flipped over the top page on which he had outlined his building and worked on the drawing of Esme. If only he could get her to sit for him, he could really make a shot at making the picture come to life, but that would need the permission of the dragon who resided at Trent House and he knew he would never get that.
‘I suppose I am to say nothing to your sister of that young gentleman?’ Miss Bannister said, as they walked.
‘We met by accident, Banny. He saw what I was doing and stopped to help. There was no harm in it. He behaved perfectly properly.’
‘I do not think your sister would agree.’
‘But you won’t say anything, will you? She will only give me a scolding.’
‘Esme, you are nearly twenty years old, a grown woman, and it is time you learned to behave like one. If you want that young gentleman to court you, then you must persuade Lady Trent to accept him, not meet him in secret.’
‘There was nothing secret about the park, Banny. There were hundreds of people there.’
‘That’s what I am afraid of,’ her mentor said repressively.
‘Banny, how shall I know when I am in love? And what is the difference between love and desire? Is there one?’
‘My dear child, you are asking quite the wrong person,’ Miss Bannister said. ‘Your mama should be the one to speak to you of such things and no doubt she will do so when the time is right.’
‘And when will the time be right?’
‘Why, when you have become betrothed, a day or two before your wedding day.’
‘It will be too late then. Banny, I do not want to make a dreadful mistake.’
‘You won’t make a mistake, Miss Esme, you are too level-headed for that.’
‘I am not, I am feeling all topsy-turvy, very far from level-headed. How will I know if I have met my match? And what if he is not at all acceptable to Rosemary? She is determined to find me someone she calls suitable. I have a dreadful feeling that her idea of suitable and mine are not the same thing at all, and Mama and Papa are bound to be guided by her.’
‘Your sister can be a little dogmatic, I own,’ the old lady said. ‘But she is only thinking of your good.’ She paused and laid her gloved hand over Esme’s. ‘I fancy these questions have been sparked by that particular young man, is that not so?’
‘Is it so obvious?’
‘I am not blind, child, I can see he is having a very powerful effect upon you, but do not be misled into thinking it is love.’
‘You don’t think it is? When he looks at me, my knees wobble and my heart beats so fast I can hardly speak.’
‘Goodness, that sounds alarming.’
‘Have you ever had that feeling, Banny?’
‘Once, but it doesn’t signify.’
‘Why not?’
‘He was most unsuitable and in the face of my papa’s opposition he disappeared. I believe he married a servant girl in the end.’
‘Oh, how sad for you.’
‘No, for I think he went to the bad and I had a lucky escape. So you see, it pays to listen to one’s parents and those who know more of the world. All the glisters are not gold.’
‘Oh, I wish I had not asked you. You are no help at all.’
‘Because I did not tell you what you wanted to hear.’
Esme did not answer and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
Almost the whole of the following week was taken up with preparations for her presentation at Court. For some reason Esme could not fathom, a feather headdress was a must and as her Majesty disliked small feathers, they had to be large enough to be seen by her when the débutantes entered the room in a long line, one behind the other together with their sponsors. In Esme’s case that would be Rosemary who rehearsed her over and over again until she was reduced to a trembling jelly. ‘Esme, for goodness’ sake, Mama taught us all to curtsy, do you have to look so clumsy? If you fall over, I shall die of embarrassment.’
The evening arrived at last and she set off with Rosemary to make her début into society, resplendent in a dress of pure white silk and a white gauze veil topped with the mandatory feather headdress, which made her keep her head bowed in the carriage. The journey took only a matter of minutes but there was a long line of vehicles outside St James’s Palace and they had to sit there for over an hour until it was their turn to enter. Others, whose fathers were not so high-ranking as the Earl of Luffenham, had even longer to wait. By the time they were called, Esme was shivering with cold and nerves, especially as no cloaks, capes or shawls were allowed. Once in the palace they waited in line in the gallery until it was their turn to move forward. Esme looked at Rosemary and received a smile of encouragement as she finally entered the throne room.
A couple of attendants helped to arrange her train and she walked slowly and sedately forward, following the girl in front of her, until she found herself standing before her Majesty, who was seated surrounded by standing courtiers. After Rosemary had presented her, she sank down into her curtsy and took the hand that was offered, kissed it, bowed and carefully straightened her knees, quickly righting herself when she began to wobble. The Queen was smiling at her. She dipped her head again and felt behind her for her train. A waiting footman picked it up and laid it over her arm and then indicated the direction she should take. Slowly, step by step, she retreated backwards until she was at the door.
‘Good,’ Rosemary said, taking charge of the train. ‘That’s over. Now, you are out.’
‘Out’ meant she could take her place in society and attend balls and functions and meet that desirable husband. All that expense, all that practising, all those jangling nerves, for the sake of two or three minutes in a crowded room and even less time in the presence of her Majesty.
They were soon outside, a shawl put about her shoulders because it was very late, and on their way back to Trent House. Tomorrow her Season could begin.
Between visits to Rosemary’s