THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

                          CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

There was a chill in the night air even if it was early May. Sitting in the Birkett’s coach with the family on their way to the town house of Major Warburton, Eleanor was glad of her wool cloak once again. It wasn’t stylish but it was warm.

    ‘Mama, I must protest,’ Cecilie was saying grumpily. ‘Eleanor wore that same gown to Lady Smedley’s soirée last Wednesday. Society will think Papa cannot afford to his keep his people clothed.’

    ‘Nonsense, Cecilie,’ her mother scolded. ‘Eleanor has ample wardrobe. And do not frown like that. It will spoil your countenance.’

    ‘I do not know why I am here at all,’ Eleanor ventured. ‘I do not think the girls will need chaperoning at the house of their uncle.’

    ‘Oh, Ambrose insisted you attend as a guest, Eleanor,’ Lady Susan said surprising her. ‘You are quite free of your duties tonight.’

    ‘I would rather not attend,’ Eleanor said uncertainly. ‘Perhaps I should return with the coach.’

    ‘Warburton has invited you, Eleanor,’ Lord Birkett said sharply. ‘You will accompany us. I do not wish to offend my brother-in-law by ignoring his wishes.’

    Eleanor remained silent but her mind was exercised by the question as to why Major Warburton had wished it. She could only think it would be an embarrassment. She knew no one except the Birketts and their circle of friends. She determined to remain out of the way as much as she could during the party.

    Major Warburton’s house was on a street just off Regent Street, not far from Carlton House. As they alighted from the coach at the front door, Eleanor could see that it was a fine house. The glow from oil lamps and myriad candles fell out on to the street; a very welcoming sight indeed.

    As the party made their way into the hall Eleanor was impressed by the sumptuousness and splendour of the interior. Grand paintings and portraits adorned the walls and statues and carvings occupied the many niches.

    Lady Susan smiled at Eleanor’s expression of wonder.

    ‘The Marques of Plymouth was a great collector of art all his life,’ she explained. ‘Ambrose’s country seat at Falsworth is equally opulent.’

    ‘Major Warburton is very fortunate,’ Eleanor said quietly.

    It was all so overpowering and so very different from her father’s place at Charnock Park. Indeed it was grander than many of the houses she had been in recently in her capacity as chaperone.

    There were many people milling about who Eleanor did not recognise; young men and women dressed at the height of fashion and older men, dignified in black, with their stylish ladies on their arms. There were many military coats of scarlet about the throng, too. Already she felt out of her depth, and moved closer to Lady Susan.

    ‘There will be no formal seating as this is a supper party,’ Lady Susan told her, shepherding her girls before her. ‘Guests may roam where they will. Supper will be laid out in the ballroom, and I suggest we repair there now. I am famished.’

    Lord Birkett soon deserted them to seek his friends and cronies among the throng. Eleanor was relieved to be free of his disapproving glance.

    Many of the guests had the same idea as Lady Susan and were at the trestle tables filling their plates with all kinds of delicacies.

    ‘Do have some of this duck breast in orange,’ Dorothea suggested, but Eleanor found she had no appetite.

    As she turned away from the table she came face to face with Lady Constance Dunstan. There was shock on both sides.