Anne Herries - An Innocent Debutante in Hanover Square

‘It is just between us,’ Toby said. ‘We must watch for the signs, Coleridge. They are both certain to be at the Marquis of Hindlesham’s ball this evening.’

‘Amelia was right about that colour,’ Mrs Henderson said as Helene came downstairs wearing her new gown that evening. ‘You look beautiful, my love.’ Helene’s hair had been dressed in a knot at the top of her head, and then allowed to fall to her shoulder in one elegant ringlet. Her hair was a dark, shining brown, her slightly olive-toned skin brought to life by the warmth of the deep peach silk. She was wearing a pendant of diamonds and pearls loaned to her by Amelia, and a matching pair of earrings. ‘I think you need a bracelet, my love. Wear this, Helene. Your papa gave it to me as my wedding gift.’ She handed Helene a small velvet pouch. Inside was a narrow bracelet of diamonds set in gold.

‘Mama, your bracelet,’ Helene said and hesitated. ‘Are you sure you wish to lend it to me? It is so precious to you—and I should be distressed if I lost it. Did you not say that the catch was loose?’

‘I have had the catch seen to,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘Had your papa been a richer man, you might have had jewels of your own, Helene. I am sorry that I could not give them to you, but you may borrow my bracelet while we are in town.’

‘Oh, thank you, Mama,’ Helene said. ‘Will you fasten it for me, please? I shall take very good care of it, I promise.’

Helene admired the bracelet on her wrist. The stones looked well against the pristine white of her long evening gloves, but she was still a little apprehensive of wearing it, because she knew that her mama treasured the lovely thing. She had been forced to sell some of her jewellery since Papa died, but the bracelet was too precious to part with unless the necessity became too pressing. Helene tested the clasp by giving it a gentle tug. It held and she felt relieved, because it seemed that the fastening was now secure.

Amelia and Emily joined them at that moment. Emily admired the bracelet, complimenting Helene on her appearance.

‘That colour looks wonderful on you,’ she said. ‘So much better than the white Madame Dubois would have had you wear.’

‘I suppose she was thinking that white is generally favoured by young ladies,’ Mrs Henderson said. ‘However, I think Amelia was quite right to advise against it. I believe the carriage awaits—shall we go?’

In the carriage, Helene was careful not to sit on Amelia’s gown. It was quite a squash with four of them, but, by being considerate of each other, they managed to arrive with no damage to their gowns. A red carpet had been laid for the ladies to walk on, and there were linkboys everywhere with their torches and lanterns. Footmen were waiting to conduct the guests inside, and the ladies were greeted by smiling maids who took their evening cloaks. Directed by one of the footmen, they walked up a magnificent staircase to meet the Marquis and Marquise of Hindlesham.

The marquis was a large, portly man dressed in a dark puce coat, his wife a tiny woman, exquisitely lovely in a gown of sparkling silver. She must have been at least twenty years his junior and was now recovered from the birth of her first son. The grand ball was being given in celebration of her success in producing the heir; the magnificent diamonds around her throat were evidence of her husband’s delight at her cleverness.

Amelia congratulated both the marquis and his wife and received a kiss on the cheek from the young mother, who was not much above Helene’s own age. Helene curtsied and thanked her hostess for the invitation.

‘You are very welcome, Miss Henderson,’ the marquise replied and smiled. ‘Amelia Royston is a friend—any guests she cares to bring are always welcome to me. Perhaps we may talk later.’

Helene inclined her head and moved on, because there was a line of guests waiting to greet and be greeted by their hosts. She had thought there were a lot of guests at the soirée the previous evening, but this was clearly a much grander occasion. There were two large reception rooms, which were overflowing with guests. Footmen circled with trays of champagne and many people were content to linger here. However, Amelia was moving steadily through the crush, Emily, Mrs Henderson and Helene following in her wake. Beyond the two crowded reception rooms was a large, long room, which was where the ball was to be held. Helene could hear music playing and already a few couples had taken to the floor.

She looked about her, entranced by the theme. Yards and yards of some pale pink gauzy material had been draped over the stage where the musicians were grouped. Banks of pink roses and carnations were at the foot of the stage, and arranged tastefully in alcoves to either side.

‘Where on earth did they find so many roses?’ Helene asked of no one in particular and heard a throaty chuckle just behind her. Turning, she found herself staring up at Lord Coleridge. ‘My lord…’ She dipped a curtsy. ‘I was just admiring the flowers. There are such a profusion and it is a little early in the year, would you not agree?’

‘I believe they are all forced in a hothouse,’ Max told her, a gleam in his eyes. ‘Have you remarked that they have little scent? For myself I prefer a natural rose…one that is allowed to blossom in its own good time. Ours at Coleridge House begin to flower from May onwards in the most sheltered spots, and there is one white bush that always gives us a rose at Christmas. When I was a child my father always plucked it for my mother on Christmas Day.’

‘How lovely,’ Helene said. She felt a flutter in her stomach as she gazed up into his dark, slate-grey eyes. There was something so very attractive about him! ‘Tell me, do your roses smell wonderful?’

‘Yes, particularly a dark red one that was my mother’s favourite—and an old pink damask rose that no one knows anything about.’

‘Someone must know something of it, surely?’

‘No, it is true that no one can name it, and no one remembers it being planted. My mother was a great gardener until her health went and she died suddenly when I was young, but even she could not remember having it planted. My head gardener thinks it must have grown from a seedling—but we have no record of it. I have made inquiries, but even the experts cannot put a name to it.’

‘How fascinating. If it is truly a new variety you must name it,’ Helene said. ‘I love gardens and gardening. I had my own at home, but my uncle’s gardener does not wish for help.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘I am sorry that your mama died when you were young. I know what it is to lose a parent too soon.’

‘Yes, your mama is a widow, I believe. We have something in common, Miss Henderson. In Mama’s case, it was very sad because in his grief my father neglected her garden—and a garden gives much pleasure,’ Max told her. ‘I am sorry your uncle’s gardener does not wish for your help, but I am sure you will have your own garden again one day.’

‘Yes, perhaps I shall.’

‘May I ask if you will dance this with me?’ Max asked as they saw couples beginning to take the floor for a country dance. ‘I hope you like to dance, Miss Henderson?’

‘Yes—at least, I have not had much opportunity, though I have been given lessons.’

‘I am sure you will enjoy the pastime now that you have the opportunity,’ Max said and offered her his hand. ‘Shall we, Miss Henderson?’

Helene gave him her hand, smiling up at him. The answering smile in his eyes made her feel instantly at home with him, and she found the steps came easily to her. He was a large man, but she was acutely aware how well he danced, seeming to have a light step and an elegant bearing that some of the other gentlemen did not quite possess.