The Duchess was beside herself with glee. The handsome Mr. Goodwin was scheduled to dance with two of her daughters, and she sent Flossy with instructions to the butler to make certain that both Ann and Charlotte were seated on either side of Beaumont at supper.

A Scottish reel was announced, and George asked Miss Priscilla to dance with him. However, a reel was a lively dance that did not allow for much conversation, and after the dance was over, even though Miss Priscilla attempted to enter into conversation with George, he was previously scheduled to dance with another young lady and excused himself.

Meanwhile, Lucy had managed to slip away from the kitchen for a few moments and stood at a serving door and peeked in to see the activities at the ball. Everyone was dancing, laughing or engaged in various conversations. The ballroom looked so beautiful with the many blazing candles, the lovely gowns, and the handsome gentlemen looking so very elegant. But she could not stay and returned to her work within a few minutes.

The dancing was vigorous and hearty, and before too long the crowd had worked up quite an appetite. So, it was greatly welcomed when Stevens called for attention and announced that supper was to be served.

The ballroom emptied quickly, and the dancers headed to the dining table. The conversation was loud as the guests were in good spirits. It seems there had not been a ball as grand as this one in some time, and everyone was commenting on what a great treat it was to be in attendance.

Ann and Charlotte had, indeed, been placed on either side of Mr. Goodwin and Ann immediately began quizzing her new acquaintance.

“Mr. Goodwin, how do you engage yourself in London? Or are you at university?” Ann asked.

“I came down from Cambridge last year and have been taking some time off before I jump into any profession. As you may know, my father is the current Exchequer, and he is urging me to go into finance. But I am leaning more toward being a wastrel, much to my father’s consternation.”

Ann gave a rather forced but hearty laugh. “Oh, certainly you jest, Mr. Beaumont. A gentleman of your quality must be well connected, and you might pursue any endeavor that suits you.”

“Of course. But I am taking this year away from London. Papa is eager that I marry, and I thought it best if I search outside of London. The London scene does not please me well. I prefer the solitude of the country—not to mention the joys of hunting, fishing, and riding.

Charlotte pulled Beaumont’s attention away from Ann by saying, “Your sister is quite charming. What are her interests?”

“She is quite musical and enjoys reading, embroidery, and drawing. But these are but a few of her many talents.”

“You know what I think? We should go for a drive to Cranborne Chase. It is delightful this time of year, and since you are new to the area, you and your sister should find the outing most delightful. And if the weather holds, might I suggest a picnic?”

“Very possibly. I shall speak to Priscilla about your plan.”

Ann spoke up again, pulling Beaumont’s attention back to her. “And are you accompanied by any other of your family members?”

“Our mother came with us, but only for a short time. She prefers the hustle and bustle of the city, and I am sure will soon tire of our quiet and solitary life in Dorset.”

“Did she accompany you this evening?”

“No, she was tired from our journey down and is resting.”

“Then you must bring her quite soon to tea. Any afternoon would do. We are almost always at home.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the next course—delicate filets of pheasant with a shallot, burgundy sauce, potatoes au gratin, and a wild salad with an orange and champagne vinaigrette.

In the meantime, Betsy was sitting next to her mother.

“And just who have you danced with this evening, my dear? I have not been able to keep an eye out for you as I should. There have been so many interruptions.”

“A few gentlemen. But not a single one of notable interest,” Betsy admitted.

“Oh, child, I do despair for you. Why do you insist on making yourself so unattractive? You are quite a pretty thing really, but you make no effort whatsoever.”

“Oh, Mother, they mostly bore me so. They only talk about themselves and their feeble accomplishments. Why ever would I want to consider marrying such toads?”

The Duchess was distracted by the attention of The Baron Asquith who was sitting to her left.

“Your Grace, this is my first visit to Grayson Manor, and I have to say it is quite a satisfactory residence.”

This put down did not please the Duchess, and she replied. “And I suppose you live in a palace?”

“The Grange is quite a substantial home. We find it suits us quite well,” he replied.

This put Judith in a foul mood, and she turned to her dinner and ignored him the rest of the evening.

Betsy disappointed her mother, but Ann and Charlotte were deeply engaged in conversation with the new young man, and that pleased her greatly. The Countess had fallen asleep during the first dance session and could not be roused for supper. But Judith would make a point of questioning her more fully when the guests returned for the second round of dancing.

* * *

Yes, the ball was moderately entertaining, but all George could think about was finishing his latest painting. He was itching to toss off his dress suit, put on his work clothes and smock, and head back to his studio, even if it meant working by lamplight late into the night. But, alas, it was not to be this evening. The second round of dancing had barely begun, and the guests were so enthusiastic, he knew the ball would go on long after midnight.

Then it struck him—he had not seen Lucy. She was usually at his mother’s side but had been absent all evening. And then he realized with a discreet smile that his mother probably did not want Lucy at the ball, because she might very well distract from his plainer sisters. Naughty mother, he thought. He was about to go over and scold her, but he was interrupted by the appearance of Miss Priscilla.

“I believe we are to have the next dance,” she said taking his arm.

“A quadrille,” he said looking at her dance card. “Most enjoyable.”

As they danced, it was clear to George that Miss Priscilla was interested in him. She brought up any number of topics that might intrigue him, and he had to admit she was a charming and knowledgeable young lady. And yes, she was very pretty—but pretty in a girlish way. As always, he ended up comparing her to Lucy—the loveliest and most potentially beautiful woman he would ever know. But over the course of their conversation, Miss Priscilla let it be known that she came with a living of five thousand a year—and she was the daughter of a Lord. There could be no doubt his mother would swoon over the possibility of such a match for him.

When their dance was finished, George excused himself. He had purposely chosen not to engage in many dances, as he felt it was necessary to be a good host and mingle with guests at the dance who were not dancing. As usual, his father, the most obvious host, hung out in his study with a gang of gentlemen who always spent any social occasion together drinking heavily and smoking cigars.

As George visited with the non-dancing guests, he found he was particularly welcomed by mothers of eligible young daughters. They pressed their various suits upon him and suggested he might come by for a visit to their homes any afternoon. He knew the routine, but was oblivious to it, having witnessed it numerous times in his own family. But he was tiring rapidly of this not so subtle assault.

Suddenly a shriek rang out, and he turned to see his mother across the room with her hands in the air looking down at her lap. He quickly made his way to her.

“Mother, what troubles you?”

Judith was looking down at Isabell who was shaking and in some sort of a spasm. It was clear she was upset, but George did not know what to do. Judith turned to Flossy. “Help me,” she cried out, disregarding all forms of decorum.

Flossy came over and looked down at the dog but waved her hands. “Oh, Your Grace, I know not what to do. Is she sick?”

“Of course, she is. Do something.”

Flossy now waved her hands even more violently, and looked at George, “Oh, sir, I know not what is to be done.”

George picked the dog up, but she had lost bladder control and was relieving herself all over the front of George’s breeches. “Tarnation! Flossy go fetch Miss Lucy. She is much more knowledgeable about these things than I am.”

Flossy dashed off, obviously relieved to pass the responsibility on to someone else.

Even with the Duchess’s distress, the dancing had not stopped. The Country Dance group was now playing, and the dancers were in a boisterous, giddy round of knees up dancing. Most of the guests appeared to be unaware of the incident with the dog.

George, in the meantime, had procured a shawl and had wrapped Isabell in that. Lucy shortly came up next to him.

“Is it Isabell?” she asked.

“Yes, she seems to be seizing.”

“Let me take her from you. Poor dear. It is best if I deal with this downstairs.”

“Yes, please.”

He handed the wrapped dog over to Lucy, even as his mother was standing next to him pulling at his arm and saying, “Careful. Oh dear… careful. Shall I go with you?”

Lucy replied, “No, Your Grace, I think it best if I remove her from this hot room. It may be nothing. And if she has some water and a bite to eat she might improve quite nicely.”

“Yes, yes. Do that. Oh, be careful. Do not hurt her,” Judith said pushing Lucy forward. She turned to George, “Go with her. Let me know how she is.”

George was surprised to find he was happy to be leaving the ball, not only because of his soiled breeches, but especially since he was to accompany Lucy.

They headed down the stairs to the servant’s quarters and lay the dog down on a work table in the laundry room still wrapped in the shawl.

Lucy examined the dog and turned to George with a stricken-looking face. “Oh, George, she did not make it. I believe she is dead.”

“Oh, Mother will be upset.”

He went to examine the dog for himself, and it was clear that she was indeed dead.”

“I best wait to tell Mother about this after the ball is over. Otherwise, she may become overly emotional and cause a scene.”

“Or you could bring her down here and let her be with her dear friend to grieve alone.”

“Lucy, you are so wise and caring. That is a much better idea.”

“Do you want me to fetch her?” Lucy asked.

“No, I think it best if I do that.”

“Very well. I shall stay here in case your mother needs me.”

George left the room and returned to the ball, which was still robustly in full swing. As he was crossing the ballroom toward his mother, he was stopped by Beaumont who took hold of his arm.

“George, I say… who was that absolutely fine vision I saw you leaving with just now? Is that another one of your sisters?”

It took George a moment to realize Beaumont was talking about Lucy. “No. But you must excuse me; I must relay some important information to my mother.”

George headed toward his mother, but Beaumont called after, “Then who is she? I say…”