Anne Perry - Cater Street Hangman

But her mind was out in a shadowed street in some unimaginable horror of dark shapes, sudden pain, choking-and death.

Emily was excited. This was the kind of day she loved, even more than the day after. Today was the day of dreams, of preparations, of last-minute stitching, of laying out every detail of clean underwear, of washing hair and brushing, of curling irons, and then at the very last minute of all, the delicate, infinitely discreet touches to the face.

Tonight they were going to a formal ball at the house of one Colonel Decker and his wife, and far more to the point, his son and his daughter. Emily had seen them only twice, but had heard delicious stories from Lucy Sandelson as to their dashing style, their elegance, the flair with which they wore the latest fashions; and yet more intoxicating, the abundance and intimacy of their acquaintances among the wealthy and the aristocratic. Truly this ball gave promise of endless doors which, with a little luck and a little skill, might open onto worlds heretofore only dreamed of.

Sarah was going to wear blue, a soft baby blue which was extremely becoming to her. It flattered her skin, highlighting its delicacy, and caught the colour of her eyes. It was a colour that suited Emily’s warmer tone very well also, complementing her cheeks, darker eyes, and brownish hair with its hazel and gold lights. Still, it would flatter neither of them to wear the same; indeed it would make them look ridiculous and Sarah naturally had first choice.

Charlotte had decided upon a rich, wine pink, another shade which would have suited Emily. But to be honest, it suited Charlotte, with the redwood colour of her hair and her honey-toned skin even better. No one could call her eyes blue; they were gray in any light.

Which left only yellow or green for Emily. Yellow always made her look sallow. It looked dreadful on Sarah too; only Charlotte was flattered by it. So, with a touch of ill humour, Emily had settled for green, a soft, lighter than apple green. Now, holding it up in front of her, she had to admit that chance had favoured her. It really was most excellently becoming. She looked all delicacy and spring, like some flower in its self-chosen setting, as if she owed nothing to artifice. Indeed, if dressed in this she could not attract the admiration, and thus of course the attention, of one of the Decker family’s friends, she did not deserve to succeed. Sarah was not in the field, being married; the Madison sisters were unattractively dark, and let us be honest, much thicker round the waist than was desirable, both of them! Perhaps they overate?

Lucy was handsome enough, but so clumsy! And Charlotte, she knew, would be no rival, because Charlotte always spoilt any visual effect she might have made as soon as she opened her mouth! Why did Charlotte always have to say what she thought, instead of what she certainly had enough wit to know people wished?

This green really was excellent. She must get another gown in the same shade for daytime. And where was Lily? She was supposed to be coming with the curling irons!

She went to the door.

“Lily?”

“Coming, Miss Emily. One moment, and I’m coming right now!”

“What are you doing?”

“Just the last touches to Miss Charlotte’s dress, Miss Emily.”

“The irons will get cold!” Really Lily was stupid at times! Didn’t the girl ever think?

“They’re still too hot, Miss Emily. I’m coming right now!”

This time she fulfilled her promise, and half an hour later Emily was totally satisfied. She turned slowly in front of the mirror. The reflection was dazzling; she could think of nothing to add or alter. This was the best image she was able to present; young yet not totally unsophisticated, ethereal without being quite out of reach.

Caroline came into the room behind her.

“You’ve been standing in front of that mirror too long, Emily. You must know every fold of your dress by now.” Her reflection was smiling, meeting Emily’s eyes. “Vanity in a woman is not an attractive quality, my dear. However beautiful you are-and you are pretty enough, but not beautiful-it becomes you to pretend indifference to it.”

Emily stifled a laugh. She was far too excited to be offended.

“I don’t intend anyone else to be indifferent to it. Are you ready, Mama?”

“Do you feel there is something I have yet to do?” Caroline’s mouth twisted a little.

Emily swung round, flouncing her skirt. She regarded her mother in mock consideration. On anyone else the brown-gold dress would have been sombre, but against Caroline’s rich skin and mahogany hair it was very handsome indeed. Emily had too much honesty to do anything but approve.

“Thank you,” Caroline said with some acerbity. “Are you ready to come down? Everyone else is prepared to leave.”

Emily came down the stairs carefully, holding her dress, and was the first into the carriage. All the way there she was silent, her mind whirling faster and faster through dreams, picturing handsome men, faces as yet indistinct, all turned towards her as she danced, music in her ears, in her body and in her feet, barely touching the ground. One vision melted into another. She progressed to the next day, to admirers calling, to letters, then to rivalry for her attention. A pity gentlemen did not duel any more. Of course, it would all be very proper. Perhaps one of them would be titled. Would she marry him? Become Lady something? There would be a long, passionate courtship first-his family would have chosen someone else for him. Someone of his own social standing, an heiress. But he would be prepared to risk everything! The dream was delicious. It was almost an anticlimax when they arrived. But she knew the difference between dream and reality.

They had judged it perfectly-probably Mama’s doing. The ball was already in progress; they heard the music even as they mounted the steps to the great doors. Emily caught her breath and swallowed hard in the excitement. There were more than fifty people, swirling gently like flowers in a breeze, colours blending and drifting one into another, interspersed with the dark, stiffer forms of the men. The music was like summer and wine and laughter.

They were announced. Mama and Papa went down the steps slowly, then Dominic and Sarah, then Charlotte. Emily hesitated as long as she dared. Were all those faces looking at her? Oh, yes, please let it be that they were? She picked up her skirt just an inch or two in her hand, delicately, and began to descend the stair. It was a moment to be savoured, like the exquisite first strawberry of the year, at once sweet and tart, drawing the mouth.

They were formally introduced, but most of it passed over her head. She was aware only of the son of the family. He was a bitter disappointment. Reality shattered the remnant of the dream. He was ruddy-faced, short-nosed, and definitely too stout for a man of his youth.

Emily curtsied, as habit dictated, and when he asked her for the honour of the dance she accepted. There was no other civil way to behave, and she was duly led away. He danced badly.

Afterwards Emily found herself deposited among a group of other young women, most of whom she knew, at least by sight. Conversation was minimal and extremely silly, as everyone’s mind was on the men now congregating at the far side or dancing with others. Such remarks as were made were not listened to, either by those who made them or by those to whom they were addressed.

Emily saw Dominic and Sarah together, and Mama dancing with Colonel Decker. Charlotte was talking, with an attempt at interest, to a young man with an elegant and weary air.

It was half an hour, and several dances later, before young Decker returned-much to Emily’s dismay, until she saw that he brought with him quite the handsomest man she had seen in a year. He was of no more than average height, but his brown hair curled richly to his head, his colour was excellent, his features regular, his eyes large, and above all he carried with him an air of assurance that was beauty in itself.