The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [319]
‘I see.’ She kept very calm. ‘There was some trouble between the Penruddocks and a family called Lisle in the New Forest.’
‘So I have heard. The Lisles of Moyles Court, I believe – although I confess I have never known the details. The other branch of that family were more respectable, weren’t they?’
‘I couldn’t say.’
‘No. It was a long time ago, of course.’
Fanny glanced across to where her father and Aunt Adelaide were sitting. Mr Albion was chatting happily with two young ladies, but her aunt appeared to be falling asleep. So much the better. There was little point in her being made aware that there was a Penruddock in the company.
‘Perhaps, if your father is in better humour,’ he was saying, ‘I may call upon you …’
‘Better not, I think, Mr Martell.’
‘Well. There is to be a dinner tomorrow at the Burrards. I have a note here from Lady Burrard asking you to come. May I tell her …’
‘I am afraid that I am already promised elsewhere, Mr Martell. Would you please thank her for me. I will send a letter to her tomorrow.’ She suddenly felt very tired. ‘I must look after my father now,’ she said.
‘Of course. When the dancing begins again I shall claim you.’
She smiled politely but non-committally and retired to the far corner, leaving Martell a little puzzled. It was evident that a distance had opened up between them, but he was not certain of the cause. Was it because he had neglected her during his stay? Were there other reasons? No doubt the matter could be put right, but he felt anxious to do so, and had it not been for the dangerous presence of her old father he might have followed her there and then. A moment later, however, Louisa appeared and as she remarked that she was hungry, he could hardly fail to escort her towards the refreshments. Nearly half an hour passed before the sound of the violins signalled the resumption of dancing and even then she did not move.
It was at this point that some of the more discerning guests in the main room began to notice that all was not quite well with Mrs Grockleton’s ball. The two fiddlers were working away hard enough, but one of them was getting rather red and the second, between dances – or even during a dance – was pausing to drink out of a tankard that contained something other than water.
Was their playing a little out of tune? Was a note missing here and there? It would have been inappropriate to ask. Mr Grockleton did murmur to his wife that he might remove the tankard. ‘But if you do that,’ she cautioned, ‘he might stop playing.’ So he left it where it was.
A country dance was in full, if slightly lurching, swing when Mr Martell finally emerged and saw Fanny standing alone. He did not waste any time in moving towards her, but she did not see him approach. Her eyes were upon other things.
Aunt Adelaide was asleep, quite comfortably propped in her chair. But old Francis Albion was in a remarkable state. She had never seen anything like it. He was well into his second glass of claret and looking very cheerful on it. The ladies in general, from her friends at the academy to the count’s wife, had all decided to adopt him. There were at least six of them sitting around him and at his feet, and if his gleaming blue eyes and their peals of laughter were anything to go by, he was entertaining them thoroughly. Fanny could only shake her head in wonderment and suppose that, in the long years of his travels before she was born, her father might have had a more active social life than she had realized.
‘Perhaps you would do me the honour of granting me the next dance.’
She turned. She had already made up her mind what to do if this happened. Now she must see if she could carry it out. ‘Thank you, Mr Martell, but I do not care to dance at present. I am a little tired.’
‘I am sorry. But glad if it means that I have the chance to speak with you. My stay here will shortly end. Then I return to Dorset.’
She inclined