Cinders & Sapphires (15 page)

Featherstonehaugh House, the foreign secretary’s mansion, stood at the most select end of Park Lane, imposing at the top of its flight of marble steps. Torches burned to mark the way up the staircase, and footmen in the Wellingborough livery of green and gold stood as motionless as statues to mark the way.

Ada stepped down from the carriage, the silvery sheen of her dress swishing around her. She had chosen the Delphos gown in the end. She snuggled a little deeper into her mink. The fabric was thin and it was still winter. For jewelry she had chosen a strand of pearls, so long that it reached her hips and accentuated the graceful, Grecian columnlike silhouette of the dress. She also wore a curious, heavy bracelet of Indian silver that had belonged to her mother. Rose had suggested it, and Ada had seen at once that it would balance the dress perfectly, giving strength to its fragile elegance. She hoped that Ravi would notice that it was Indian, and take it as a compliment.

“You look wonderful, my dear,” said her father, with a proud smile. He took her arm and led her up the stairs, followed by Fiona and Charlotte. “Don’t worry,” he added in her ear, “I have arranged everything with Lady Wellingborough.”

What did that mean? Ada wondered. But she barely had time to give her father a puzzled smile before the footman had sprung to open the doors for them and they were inside the imposing hall of Featherstonehaugh House. Ada blinked in the dazzling electric light. Before them, the butler threw open the doors and announced, “Lord Westlake, Lady Westlake, Lady Ada Averley, Miss Charlotte Templeton.”

As she stepped into the crowded drawing room, Ada barely noticed the admiring glances that the gentlemen turned toward her. She was searching the room for Ravi. He was nowhere to be seen.

“My dear Fiona. Lord Westlake. What a true pleasure to welcome you to our home.” A clear, imperious woman’s voice cut through the chatter of the drawing room, and Ada saw Lady Wellingborough coming toward them, making her way through the Chinese vases and occasional tables upon which small, exquisite antique curiosities gleamed. The bright electric light from the chandeliers made the jewels around her neck and the jet beading on her dress sparkle. In one hand she carried a massive fan of ostrich feathers and ivory. At the same time, her husband, a serious, elderly man, approached Lord Westlake and shook his hand warmly. Lady Wellingborough and Fiona exchanged greetings, and Lady Wellingborough smiled at Ada and Charlotte.

“How lovely to see you both.” Though she spoke warmly, she had an air of great dignity, and Ada felt she would never be able to relax around her. She even outclassed Fiona, who seemed positively girlish beside her.

Lady Wellingborough led them through the crowd. “You know Lady Emily Maddox, do you not?” she said, pausing by a group of women who stood exchanging pleasantries under a huge Burne-Jones tapestry.

Emily smiled as she turned to them. “How delightful to see you!”

Charlotte did not look at all pleased, but Ada did not have time to notice, for Lady Wellingborough was gently guiding her away from the group.

“And Ada, there is someone I am sure you would like to meet again.”

Ada looked around as she followed Lady Wellingborough. There were about twenty people in the drawing room, and the chatter and laughter echoed from the high ceilings, but she could see Ravi nowhere. Her heart fell. Perhaps he had been prevented from coming, and this was all for nothing…

“Ada!” A man’s voice brought her back to herself. She looked up to see Lord Fintan smiling at her. She hadn’t remembered how handsome he was. He bowed over her hand, and she thought what a perfect gentleman he was.

“Now, you two know each other very well,” said Lady Wellingborough. “I will leave you together to talk.”

She glanced to the side as she turned away, and Ada followed her gaze to see her father smiling at her. She blushed. So that was what he had meant. He had arranged with Lady Wellingborough to set her up with Lord Fintan for the evening. She hardly dared glance toward Charlotte and Fiona. This would not make their relationship any easier. But she had given her father to understand that she was interested in Lord Fintan romantically, and she had to keep up the illusion or risk the truth being suspected. She tried to imagine how Charlotte would have handled the situation. There had to be something witty, flirtatious that she could say—

“Old women always have matchmaking on their minds,” said Lord Fintan in a low voice. His eyes twinkled. “But we need not let that stop us having a pleasant conversation, need we?”

Ada looked up in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to be so aware of what was going on. The laugh that rose to her lips was natural and unforced, and she said, without even having to think about it, “It would be impossible to have anything other than a pleasant conversation with you.”

The look of pleasure on his face made her blush and lower her eyelids. When she looked up, her heart almost stopped. Ravi was standing close behind Lord Fintan, near the fireplace. And from the look on his face, she knew he had seen and heard her flirt with Lord Fintan.

“I hear you have made friends with my sister,” Lord Fintan was saying. “She is mischievous, but she means well.”

Ada followed his glance over to where Emily was standing, still in conversation with Charlotte and Fiona. Emily smiled and raised her fan in a small gesture of greeting or approval, Ada was not sure which. She could not smile back. It seemed the whole room was expecting her to flirt with Lord Fintan, and she could hardly complain since she had given the impression that that was her intention. She could not back out now. Questions would be asked if she did. And yet Ravi was watching everything.

“Yes—Emily is delightful,” she managed.

“Has she talked to you about Oxford?” Lord Fintan lowered his voice and leaned closer to speak to her. Ada knew it was just so that her father would not overhear, but she also knew it must look intimate. Ravi’s frown deepened, and he abruptly walked away, heading toward the nearest group of men who were talking.

“Yes…but my father doesn’t approve.” Ada did not have to fake the despair in her voice.

“Ah,” Lord Fintan said in understanding. “Well, perhaps he can be persuaded.”

“Perhaps.” Ada felt, at that moment, that she would have given up every dream of Oxford just to be able to explain things to Ravi. She desperately wanted to escape from this conversation. Then the butler entered and murmured something to Lady Wellingborough. Lady Wellingborough nodded, and he announced: “Dinner is served, ladies and gentlemen.” Footmen flung open the big doors at one end of the room to reveal a beautifully dressed mahogany table with a gigantic ice sculpture of an elephant with a howdah on its back. The room was hung with Indian silks, and the chairs were decorated in the same way.

A collective murmur of gratification went up from the room. Lady Wellingborough took Lord Westlake’s arm, and the others in the room paired up, each with their nearest equal in rank, as they prepared to proceed to the dining room.

“May I?” Lord Fintan offered his arm to Ada. She had no choice but to accept.

As they walked through into the dining room, she glanced behind her. She wished she had not. Ravi and Charlotte walked behind her, and both had faces like thunder.

Rose started to her feet with the rest of the audience. She did not hear herself applauding; she hardly heard the thunderous applause of the others. She had forgotten all about Sebastian, until he placed a hand on her shoulder.

She turned to him. “Oh, sir—I mean,” she stumbled, remembering that she was supposed to be pretending not to be a maid. “Mr. Templeton. Wasn’t it the most wonderful thing? I’ve never heard music like that.”

“Yes, it was magnificent.” Sebastian smiled at her. “Perhaps he’ll give us an encore.”

Rose wasn’t sure what an encore was, but she kept on applauding. The music had been so simple and yet so rich, it had brought back to her the folk tales that her grandmother had told her when she was a child. Full of magic and wonder, little people, and enchanted stone rings—she had never dreamed that they could be turned into music like this. She clapped harder and harder as she remembered the way Mr. Vronsky’s long, nimble fingers had flown across the keyboard as if they too were enchanted.

The applause increased as the Russian came back onto the stage, smiling and bowing. He strode to the piano, seated himself, and gestured for silence. As Rose and the rest of the audience sat down obediently, he said, “Zank you. Zank you. I am very appreciative.” He ran a finger thoughtfully across the keyboard, then spoke to the audience. “I have been lucky to visit your English country houses recently. There I was played an enchanting little tune and I would like to share it with you. I do not have the permission of the composer, but I believe she would not object. It shows astonishing promise for one so young.”

He turned to the piano, raised his hands, and began to play.

For the first few seconds, Rose did not believe what she was hearing. Then a deep blush came over her face. She glanced to either side, sure that people would somehow notice how she felt. But nobody looked at her. They were rapt by the music. They were entranced—by her “Eastern Dance.”

Rose pressed her hands to her cheeks, trying to keep back tears of excitement and joy. Mr. Vronsky played so differently from Georgiana—there was a pathos in his interpretation, a skill that brought out meanings and feelings that she had never even suspected were there. Under his hands, her tune changed from the sweet but familiar song of an English blackbird to a mournful lament. When he at last ceased playing, there was an awed silence, and then the audience erupted in applause.

Rose, too, was stunned and moved to clap. She did not even know where she was until Sebastian touched her arm.

“Rose? It’s time to go.” He smiled at her kindly.

“Oh—yes—” she managed. Like a sleepwalker, she followed him from the box out onto the staircase.

“Are you quite all right?” Sebastian sounded concerned.

She nodded. “Yes. I—I’m just overcome….”

“Sit down here. I will fetch you a drink.” Sebastian steered her to a chair and disappeared into the crowd. Rose sat clutching the edge of the chair. What had just happened? Her wildest dream had come true, and yet no one knew that she was the composer. She couldn’t help wishing that they did. Suddenly Ada’s words—
You must be proud of the flame within you
—made sense to her. She was frightened and exhilarated. It was as if she had touched the world of the gods for an instant—and now she had to return to earth.

Sebastian returned, holding a glass. It looked like soda water, and Rose took a grateful sip. She almost choked. It fizzed in her mouth like icicles melting, and it was certainly alcoholic. Her mother was entirely against alcohol; drunkenness, she always said, was the worst sin a servant could commit.

“Don’t look so shocked, it’s only champagne,” said Sebastian with a smile. “Have you never tasted—Oh, I daresay you haven’t.”

Rose shook her head. A good servant would have put the glass down and refused to touch another drop. But tonight was different. Tonight she was a composer. She put the glass to her lips again and finished it.

To her horror, Ada found herself seated between Douglas Varley and Lord Fintan. Opposite her was Charlotte, and opposite Lord Fintan was Ravi. She dropped her eyes as the footmen came around with the first course.

Lord Wellingborough, clearly thinking she was shy, leaned kindly toward her from the end of the table.

“Lady Ada, I don’t think you know Mr. Varley? He is of the same party as me.”

Ada managed to stutter out a few words without really looking into Douglas Varley’s face or hearing his response. Lord Wellingborough then introduced Ravi, who said simply, “We have met.”

“Oh?” Lord Fintan’s eyebrows rose.

“At—at my father’s wedding. Both Mr. Varley and Mr. Sundaresan were our guests.” Ada was able to answer calmly now. She even dared to look into Ravi’s eyes as he greeted her. His face was tense, and a small muscle in his jaw clenched and unclenched. Ada gave him a pleading glance, but she did not dare follow it up. Too many eyes were looking at her—not the least Charlotte’s, whose gaze seemed to burn into her like acid.

The next few minutes were torture. Ada could not believe the ease with which glib small talk came from her mouth, while every element of her was tuned to Ravi’s smallest movement, the slightest glance of his eyes. Do I live my life so unconsciously? she thought in horror. If she could have divided herself in two, it seemed, one Ada could, ghostlike, have gone about her normal life with no one noticing a thing, while the other could have been with Ravi.

She tried to gather her senses. She had to remember what she was here for—to warn Ravi away from the dangerous path he was taking. Luckily, the ice sculpture and the decoration of the rooms had already turned the conversation toward India.

“What do you think, Mr. Sundaresan?” Lord Wellingborough inquired, dissecting lobster tails as he spoke. “Have our decorations conjured up an accurate vision of India?”

Ravi’s lip curled. “It is certainly a vision, sir. But you must be aware that most people in India do not live in something like the Arabian Nights.”