Lydia had managed to adapt one of her better dresses into a ball gown. She had worked on it at the same time she was assisting Jenny with her new dress. They stood next to each other in front of Jenny’s mirror and studied themselves during their first try-on.

“What do you think?” Jenny asked with some hesitation.

“I think you look splendid,” Lydia said, “However, you might consider removing that sash. I think it looks better without it.”

“Hum. Perhaps,” Jenny said.

“I am not sure,” Lydia drawled as she considered her own dress.

Jenny looked at Lydia in the mirror. “What you need to ask yourself is what would Doctor Cooke think about it.”

Lydia had not told Jenny what Ellen had told her about Edwin’s enquiry into her social life.

“Well I have no choice in any case. This is what I have to wear. And he can like it or not.”

“Well, I think it looks just fine.”

“Oh, my… fine. You might as well say I look like a sack of potatoes.”

Jenny laughed. “Not at all. It is a simple look. But it suits you—unlike mine that looks like a Christmas tree.”

“Do you have any gentlemen in line for dancing?” Lydia asked.

“Well, let me see… There is my brother, and my father, and my brother again, and… You get the picture.”

“I do not believe that for one moment. You shall be swamped with requests.”

“We shall see. And how do you think I should do my hair? Flowers or not?” Jenny asked.

“If they will stay fresh for the entire evening, I would choose flowers. Otherwise, not.”

Jenny suddenly began to laugh. “Look at us, scrambling around trying to look like princesses with the resources of shop girls.”

“Oh, well, at least there will be champagne,” Lydia said, “We can always drown our sorrows in bubbly.”

* * *

Lydia dressed by herself. Aunt and Doctor Winston were already at Honeyfield. When she was ready she left the house and went over to the Lovell’s.

The house was fizzing with excitement. Jenny and her mother were running here and there. Graham was slouched on the sofa waiting, and their father was fussing about the arrival of the coach that was to take them to the ball.

Finally, the group coalesced in the sitting room and, breathlessly, Father announced that the coach had arrived and they were ready to leave.

Jenny and her mother nervously talked nonstop all the way to Honeyfield. Lydia was content to be quietly with her own thoughts.

There was a queue of carriages waiting to unload when they arrived at Honeyfield at the back of the queue. Jenny and her mother were peering out of the windows, eager to ascend the entryway stairs into the sparkling lights bathing the house in warmth and excitement.

By the time they descended from the carriage, the queue was still as long as when they had joined the back of the queue.

Two footmen stood on either side of the entryway as the Lovell party entered. Her Grace was seated at the head of the receiving line—Edwin standing beside her. Aunt Lavinia stood just behind the Duchess, fanning her discreetly. Ellen stood beaming next to Edwin. She looked lovely. She had not needed to make do with an altered ball gown—it was new and a la mode.

The Lovell family preceded Lydia as they were welcomed. Lydia was detained briefly by Ellen and Edwin.

“How charming you look, Lydia,” Ellen said, taking both of her hands.

“The Duchess seems to be in good spirits,” Lydia observed.

“She is fortified by vast quantities of Dutch gin, I believe,” Ellen whispered. Lydia laughed and squeezed Ellen’s hand. She turned to Edwin.

“Good evening, Your Grace. The house looks splendid.”

Edwin frowned briefly at the formal greeting, but carried on. “None of my doing, I am afraid. I just pay the bills.” He winked at her. “Enjoy your evening and save me a dance.”

Lydia choked, but nodded.

Jenny came over and took Lydia’s hand. “Come, they are just starting the dancing.”

They headed into the ballroom. It looked as though half the guests had already arrived. There was a small orchestra at one end of the ballroom. They were playing a lively quadrille, and a number of the younger guests were dancing in energetic turns as the two lines of dancers formed and reformed according to the boisterous dance steps.

Graham appeared in front of Lydia and bowed.

“Might I have the pleasure of the next dance, Miss Lydia?” he asked.

“Certainly,” she answered.

He offered his hand and they waited, as this dance finished, and new lines formed for the next dance.

“I must say you did not strike me as a dancer,” Lydia said smiling as the music began and they turned in a circle—the first move of the dance.

“And why is that?” he asked. “Am I that much of a lout?”

Lydia laughed. “Not at all. But it struck me that you were more interested in outdoor activities.”

They changed partners for a moment and then came back together.

“But I have to say, you present yourself very well—all dressed up like a clergyman,” Lydia teased.

Graham laughed. “Ouch. That is my father’s doing. He dusted off an old suit from the last century, it seems. I have little finery to call my own.”

“And you dance well. That must be your mother’s doing.”

“Actually it was Jenny who whipped me into shape. And she is a tough taskmaster.”

Lydia laughed. “That I know.”

When the dance ended Graham offered to deliver champagne to Lydia and Jenny.

“Thank you, Graham,” Lydia bid, as he went off in search of refreshment.

“Your brother is quite a decent chap,” Lydia said, casually.

“He is a bit of a lump—but serviceable,” she teased.

Jenny nudged Lydia and inclined her head toward the other side of the room.

“There is your doctor.”

Lydia looked over and saw Reginald nod to her. She smiled to him and nodded back. Doctor Cooke was just starting toward her when Graham returned with three glasses of champagne. That stopped the Doctor’s progress and he took a step backward.

“Miss Lydia—Jenny,” Graham said, offering them each a glass.

Jenny was annoyed that Graham’s arrival had deterred the Doctor from approaching.

“Graham, thank you for the champagne, but you have just prevented Doctor Cooke from coming over to claim Lydia for a dance,” Jenny groused.

Graham looked around. “Hey, what about me? Am I not entitled to a second dance?”

Jenny took him by the arm and escorted him in another direction.

Lydia looked at the Doctor, who, once again, appeared ready to dance when Doctor Winston came up to Lydia.

“My darling, Miss Lydia, are you enjoying the ball?” he asked.

“Bernard, I have only just arrived, and only had one dance so far. And you? Have you and Aunt Lavinia had an opportunity to dance yet?”

Bernard frowned. “I am afraid Her Grace is insisting on Lavinia’s full attention this evening. It seems we may not get the opportunity to dance this evening. But I assure you we shall at our wedding.”

“Then you must have a dance with me, Bernard,” Lydia insisted.

“You are too kind, but you young folks should be dancing together. You do not wish to be dancing with an old fossil like me.”

“Doctor, you are only as old as the lightness of your feet. And I am certain you can jig with the very best.”

Bernard laughed. “Well, if you care for a turn around the floor I would be happy to oblige.”

Lydia and Bernard joined the dance, and he did perform most lively. Lydia quite enjoyed herself.

“Most enjoyable, dear Bernard. Thank you,” Lydia said after the dance.

He bowed. “I have paid my respects, and now I shall leave you to the younger crowd.”

“Give my regards to Aunt Lavinia,” she added.

“I shall.” He turned and left.

Lydia, alone now, looked around the floor and spotted Ellen dancing with a young man she did not recognize. It did not appear to be the son of the Marquess of Huntly, as this man could be considered quite handsome. She also noticed Doctor Cooke dancing with Jenny, who was laughing and energetic in her twirls, fleuret, and Bouree steps.

She looked around for Edwin, but he was not to be seen. She saw the Duchess seated at a table observing the dancing, accompanied by Aunt Lavinia. But she could not find Reginald, as the dance had finished and he had disappeared. Perhaps he had gone for a bite to eat or a glass of champagne. Graham had found another young lady and was smiling broadly as they danced.

Lydia decided to sit down for a spell. She turned toward a chair and was stopped by Reginald standing before her.

“Miss Lydia, so popular, just as I suspected. I hope you have saved a dance for me.”

“Most assuredly, I have. And I am at your service,” Lydia said. “For I have quite exhausted my ardent admirers.”

Reginald laughed. “I fear that you have barely scratched the surface of your pool of admirers. I expect that most are so overcome by your beauty that they fear to be rejected by you.”

Lydia laughed. “Oh, Reginald, you really do exaggerate most shamefully.”

“Then allow me…”

The previous dance had ended and they were expecting the next dance to start when the orchestra took a break and the butler announced that a buffet was being served in the conservatory.

“Well, it seems I am to be thwarted, once again,” Reginald said. “Shall we head to the buffet?”

“I would rather wait until the crush is over. Knowing the generosity of our hosts, I am certain there will be plenty of refreshments later in the evening as well.”

“Certainly. Would you like to take a stroll, then, outdoors in the garden? It is such a lovely evening, and the ballroom is quite close.”

“That would be nice,” Lydia agreed.

Doctor Cooke led Lydia out a set of the French doors, leading to a balustrade. They stood overlooking the garden. The not quite full moon hung in the sky and cast a chalky glow over the garden paths.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering Lydia his hand.

She took it and they descended the stone steps onto the garden path. There was a light summer breeze that refreshed but did not chill.

The light from the ballroom spilled down across a portion of the garden. Reginald looked up at the moon.

“Such a delightful evening for the ball, do you not think?”

“Yes, lovely.”

Reginald took her arm and led her farther along the path. They came to a small grove of trees that sheltered them from the light of the moon. Reginald stopped and turned toward Lydia and took both of her hands in his.

“I have so enjoyed our walks, Lydia. I should like to think there might be many more.”

Lydia, while accepting that this was definitely a progression in their relationship, and should be welcome, instead felt ill at ease with his proclamation.

“Oh, Reginald, I am not quite sure what to say. My life is in such a turmoil at the moment—with the wedding, and Aunt Lavinia moving to be with her Doctor in Oxford. And I shall shortly start work here at Honeyfield assisting His Grace in his gardening endeavors. I have no idea when I shall be free to walk my most cherished walks again anytime soon.”

“I am sorry to hear that. I thought we had developed a most sympathetic friendship, and I have been looking forward to expanding that depth of feeling.”

Lydia was stymied. She didn’t know how to respond. She did not want to discourage him entirely, but at the same time, she was uncertain what she wanted for herself.

“Reginald I greatly respect and honor you. I, too, have enjoyed our walks. But please give me some time. With all the changes taking place, I need to settle into my new situation and adjust. Then I shall be freer to look at moving forward.”

“And might that moving forward include me?” he asked.

“Very likely so,” she answered.

It was not a very encouraging answer, she decided so she amended it by adding, “I look forward to our continued friendship.”

That seemed to satisfy him and he took her hand and led her back toward the ballroom. The orchestra had begun playing again.

“We must take advantage of the music while we have it. Shall we take the next dance?”

“Certainly.”

They reentered the ballroom and Lydia surveyed the scene. All the guests had finally arrived and there was a lot of activity. The dance floor was full and they would have to wait for the following dance to claim a spot on the floor.

Reginald took her arm and asked, “Do you think the queue at the buffet might have lessened by now?”

“We might try.”

They headed toward the conservatory. On the way, Lydia spied Edwin conferring with the butler. Perhaps the wine was running low. There was practically no queue when they entered.

As they were serving themselves Jenny came over and poked her head in between the two of them.

“Greetings, Doctor, Lydia. Have you had a merry dance yet?”

“The orchestra broke just as we were prepared to take to the floor,” Lydia said. “But we shall try again after refreshments.”

Jenny turned to the Doctor. “You must spread the wealth around, Doctor, and offer me another dance before the evening has ended.”

“It shall be my pleasure,” he reassured her.

“Splendid.”

Lydia had finished filling her plate and stepped aside with Jenny.

“I have some interesting news. Find me when I am alone.”

“Oh, tell me now,” Jenny insisted.

“No, later,” Lydia said and turned back to Reginald who was just finishing serving himself.

The two found a small table recently vacated, and they sat to enjoy their meal. Reginald talked about his latest puzzle periodical and became robustly enthusiastic, while Lydia’s mind drifted to thoughts about her new cottage. It was then she realized she’d made the definite decision to stay at Upton Magna. She would assist her aunt in every way possible to prepare for the wedding, and for her removal to Oxford, but she was not prepared to move there with them.

The latest dance was just ending, and they had finished their meal, so Reginald suggested they take advantage of the lull and go to the ballroom to dance.

The evening was in full swing. There was a robust atmosphere in the room as the dancers took to the floor for the next dance. Those not dancing were in deep conversation or sitting at the tables surrounding the dance floor, eating and drinking. The candles were burning brightly and the flower arrangements exuded their heavy scents, filling the air with floral intoxication.

Reginald and Lydia danced two dances in a row, but after the second, Lydia excused herself. She needed a break in the room set aside for the ladies’ toilette.

“Thank you, Reginald. Perhaps we might have another dance later.”

“Most certainly,” he said, bowing as she turned to leave.