Catherine, Countess of Stanningfield, looked up from the list that lay on her small writing desk in the informal parlour. She started out through the terrace doors across the winter gardens, letting the pen drop from her fingers to the side of the paper.
She was quite sure that she had forgotten someone who should be invited. She had not, before now, realised quite how difficult it would be to formulate a guest list for the grand occasion of the first Christmas Ball at Havisham House since Charles had become Earl. The matter of her own, somewhat lowly, origins made choosing guests even harder.
For she would wish her mother to attend, and, although her mother had become used to mingling with some of the nobility on occasion, she was still not entirely comfortable with many. Charles’ wide circle of acquaintance, and complex tangle of family, meant that he would wish a large contingent to be invited. And then there were those of the ton who must be invited (even though many would not make the journey, as winter was making the roads less and less pleasant to travel).
But for Theodora’s sake, they must be invited. If she was to be launched in the coming London season, she must meet as many people now, as possible, to ensure that she was accepted, and that no touch of scandal or question of her heritage might tarnish her opportunities in life.
As if the thought had summoned her, Theodora tapped on the door and entered, followed by Charles. Catherine smiled in genuine pleasure, delighted by how beautiful Theodora looked. Charles came to Catherine and bent to kiss her lightly. They had been married three years now, but were still as delighted in each other as they had been at the start.
Catherine sighed, looking up at Charles.
“This list is becoming huge, and yet I am still not sure that I have remembered everyone who should be invited! If they all choose to attend, I’ve no idea where we will put them all – the house will be overflowing, and so will the Inn in Harteston, and perhaps the Inn in Lavenham too!”
Charles laughed at her worried expression.
“My dear Catherine, I am certain that the innkeepers will be most pleased with us, if we bring them customers! And we will manage to squeeze many of those closest to us in here, never fear. For now, let’s go through the list together, and make sure that all of ‘the important people’ are on it.”
Theodora, who had been standing to one side, surreptitiously trying to read the list that lay in front of Catherine, could not contain her enthusiasm.
“Oh yes, please, can we do that? I want to know all about everyone who will be here!”
Charles and Catherine shared a smile at her reaction. Charles and Theodora sat, and Catherine passed the list to Charles. He sat quietly, reading through it, muttering as he did, much to Theodora’s annoyance.
She forced herself to sit still, at least for the first few minutes. She knew that well behaved young ladies did not leap up and lean over people’s shoulders to read what they were reading. It was a very tempting idea, though….
After a few minutes, Charles and Catherine began to discuss names – some that Theodora recognised, like Viscount Bellham and his wife, the Marquess of Hemsbridge (whose marriage had caused quite a scandal), the Earl of Derbyshire, his daughters, and their husbands, and a number of others. Then they strayed into names that she had not heard before.
It would be quite an exalted company, from the sound of it, with so many titled and wealthy people. But…. Theodora still did not know which of the names that she was hearing were those of unmarried and eligible gentlemen…
“But papa,” she asked “who are these people you are mentioning? Please, won’t you tell me about them?”
“Well,” Charles paused, looking at her with barely repressed amusement, “Am I correct in assuming that what you really want to know is which gentlemen attending might be young and handsome?”
Theodora blushed, but had the good grace to be honest and nod, acknowledging the truth of his words.
“There are at least 15 eligible gentlemen on this list, although a few of them are perhaps rather old from your point of view. The most eligible is Chase Harrington, the Duke of Montford. He only recently came into the title, somewhat unexpectedly, when his uncle died without an heir. Mind you, I’m not at all sure that you should be looking at him, he has rather a rakish reputation, not to mention being, at nearly 30, somewhat older than I might like for you. Everyone thought him unlikely to marry, with his brother his heir for the Marquessate, but, now that he is the Duke, and his brother the Marquess, he will need to marry, and get himself an heir.”
Theodora said nothing, her mind already floating off into excited imaginings again. A Duke! And 30 was not so old, if he was handsome. She pushed aside any concern about the idea of a rakish reputation, finding it, in the manner common to fanciful young girls who were just out of the schoolroom, rather more exciting than not.
The Earl had continued speaking, naming another three gentlemen who might be of interest to a young lady, but Tia did not hear a word of it, she was so lost in her imaginings.
Over the next hour, after much discussion, the guest list was finalised, and the arduous task of writing out all those invitations begun. Tia was drawn out of her dreaming and recruited to help Catherine with the writing, for she had a fair hand. Crafting beautiful writing was, Catherine reflected, one of the few parts of her schooling that Theodora had actually enjoyed – for the most part, she had been more interested in playing with the kittens in the stables than in learning anything of use about the world.