“Don't be silly, Peggy. One evening out with the man hardly means I am competing for him or am serious about him.”
“Aren't cha, Miss? Could've fooled me.” Peggy chuckled.
“Peggy! I won't hear of such a thing, and please don't go spreading the idea around,” she chided. Bathsheba blushed.
“No, Miss. As you like.” Peggy had only been teasing but from Bathsheba's reaction alone, she could tell that she'd been right. Her mistress was smitten and, with good reason. He was a good-looking man and, from what was being said, wealthy too. He was a prize and perhaps she could help her mistress win him. Hmmm....
*
Bathsheba's nap hadn't really done much good. Her sea-faring escapade had continued, but it'd had nothing to do with her previous dream. She woke up more frustrated than rested.
Peggy had known how to put her in the right mood, however.
A bath with relaxing salts, which smelled of roses, did wonders. A shampoo with a light head massage, a soft towelling followed by a massage with Peggy's own special oil left her relaxed and drowsy. Peggy left her for a half hour before bringing her a tisane and sweet biscuits. The special treatment did its trick and she felt renewed.
By six o'clock, she was standing nervously in front of the cheval mirror wondering if she hadn't overdone it with the new dress. Thankfully, Peggy was there to 'ooh and ahh' and to generally make a fuss of her.
“You're a pure delight for the eyes, Miss. I'm sure all the gentlemen will be envious of Mr. Hutton.”
“Please, Peggy. Don't exaggerate. This is only a musical evening and, besides, I'm too old to imagine any such thing. I just hope that I do Mr. Hutton honour, and if so, I will be happy.”
Bathsheba rapidly turned to her right and then to the left just to make sure that the skirt hung properly, and then she sighed. It was a sigh of resignation. She mustn't read more into the evening if she didn't want to be disappointed.
Chapter 5
Mrs. Pemberton had exceeded herself with the event.
At least a hundred people had been invited and catered for. She really was an outstanding hostess, and somehow, her unflattering attire, which tonight was deep purple with a black fringe hanging from the strangest parts of her, had become an integral part of any of her evenings.
She greeted Alistair graciously and then turned to his companion.
“Why, I do believe that it is Bathsheba Baxter! What a pleasant surprise, my dear.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Pemberton. How amazing that you should recognise me. I'm flattered,” Bathsheba responded.
“You have grown into an attractive gel, ain't she, Mr. Hutton?” she prompted him but then didn't wait for his reaction.
“Of course, I would recognise you. You look so like your dear Mama that I hesitated for a second.”
“What a lovely thing to say. Mama was highly considered, I have heard. I would be happy to resemble her even the tiniest portion,” Bathsheba smiled.
“Enjoy yourself, my dear. We have an exceptional quartet playing this evening as well as the contralto, Mrs. Franks. I am sure Mr. Hutton will make sure you are perfectly at ease, won't you, Mr. Hutton?”
“Of course, Ma'am. I am most grateful for your 'do' as it has given me the opportunity to invite Miss Baxter to accompany me.” He smiled at both women and charmed them in doing so.
They wended their way upstairs to the double salon, which was impressively furnished with gilded chairs, each with a red cushion. Some seats had already been claimed but there were still guests milling around greeting one another. The musicians had already begun to prepare their equipment on a rostrum waiting for Mrs. Pemberton to give them the signal to begin.
Alistair was accosted several times by acquaintances wondering who his companion was. They weren't quite that blatant when introducing themselves, but it was obvious to Bathsheba and Alistair that she had caused a small sensation.
Her choice of dress had been perfect for the evening. She felt completely comfortable among all the other regally clad women. The rich burgundy colour put her pale complexion to advantage, while the shape of the dress flattered her figure.
She felt herself blushing yet again as another couple approached them, but the pink that had tinted her cheeks drained away instantly.
She was suddenly confronted by Gregory, whom she hadn't expected to see ever again. She had thought herself invulnerable until that instant. He was leering at her with a lop-sided smile. Sneering wouldn't be too strong a word to describe his look.
Alistair immediately sensed her discomfort and drew nearer to her.
“Well if it isn't Miss Baxter, all turned out in her best dress, hoping to attract a little attention,” Gregory said speaking directly at Bathsheba with little regard to Alistair or his own companion.
His scathing approach suddenly made Bathsheba stronger rather than intimidating her. He was a bully, and now that she'd understood that, she was more capable of combating him.
The thought that Peggy would certainly find sharp words to cast him off gave her the incentive she needed.
“Mr. Hutton,” she said turning towards Alistair, “it would seem that this is someone I used to know. Unfortunately, I cannot introduce him to you as I have forgotten his name.”
“Come, Miss Baxter. I have just spotted my sister over by the window. I wanted to be sure that we sat together.” Whereby, he gently took her elbow and guided her away without so much of a word or acknowledgement to Gregory or the woman with him.
Bathsheba's cheeks were warm again now that the encounter with Gregory was over. As they headed towards the windows, they were soon separated from the scene by all the other guests.
“Thank you, Mr. Hutton,” she whispered.
“The pleasure was mine, believe me. I know of the man.” He said no more.
Finally, as he didn't approach anyone near the windows she finally asked, “Which lady is your sister?”
“Did I not tell you that I am an only child?” He chuckled seeing how startled she looked.