Wilde, Jennifer (63 page)

We
reached Roseclay ten minutes later. It was ablaze with lights, and the sounds
of laughter and music spilled out into the night. The drive was lined with
carriages. As Bruce stopped the horses in front of the house, a black footman
came down the steps to meet us. He wore black pumps, white stockings, and
sky-blue satin knee breeches. His frock coat was blue satin, too, and he wore a
wig powdered in the French style. After helping me alight, he told Bruce that
he would tend to the carriage and drove it away as we went up the steps to the
front door.

Another
footman in identical attire met us at the door and led us through the enormous
hall. I was thoroughly composed, but I saw that Bruce was both nervous and
apprehensive. I took his hand and smiled as yet another footman, this one
carrying a silver-headed cane, asked our names and led us toward the ballroom.
The music had temporarily ceased, but we could hear voices and polite laughter.
Bruce made a valiant effort to control his apprehension. I gave his hand a
squeeze as we paused before the wide archway leading into the ballroom.

The
footman rapped on the floor with his cane. The assembled guests immediately
fell silent and turned to see who was arriving. When he had their full
attention, the footman announced our names in a deep, resounding voice, then
stepped aside. Bruce led me down the two narrow steps and into the room. I
could see shocked expressions on most faces, and there were several gasps.
Bruce held himself straight, his demeanor both haughty and disdainful. He had
heard the gasps, too, and they made him furious. I had never admired him so
much.

Several
moments passed, and still no one spoke. It was exceedingly awkward, but Helmut
Schnieder soon mended that. He sauntered toward us with a smile, greeted us both
warmly, shook Brace's hand. Bruce relaxed a bit, relieved that the worst was
over.

"I
was beginning to think you weren't coming," Schnieder told me. "I
would have been extremely disappointed—and surprised."

"Sorry
we're late," Bruce said.

"You're
the last to arrive, but it's of no consequence."

"I'm
afraid it's my fault," I remarked. "It took me longer to dress than I
had anticipated."

Schnieder
looked at me. Those hard blue eyes took in every detail with slow deliberation.
He liked what he saw. His wide, sensual mouth grew taut at the corners, and I
had the feeling that if we had been alone he would have crushed me to him in a
brutal embrace. It gave me a feeling of power.

"The
time was well spent," he said.

"Thank
you, Mr. Schnieder."

"The
orchestra has been playing, but we haven't yet started dancing. If Trevelyan
has no objections, I'd like to open the ball with you as my partner."

Bruce
was taken aback, but he could hardly object. He gave his assent in a tight
voice that caused Schnieder to smile.

"It's
settled, then, but first you must let me introduce you to a few of my other
guests, Miss Danver. I'm sure Trevelyan would like to say hello to some of his
friends before the dancing starts."

The
other guests had resumed talking by this time, but almost everyone in the room
was observing us while trying to appear not to. Schnieder took my hand and led
me toward a statuesque woman in a deep-purple gown. She had a large, pale face
with pursed mouth and dark, hooded eyes that widened in horror as we approached.
Her black hair was arranged in an elaborate coiffure, and as we drew nearer, I
saw that the diamonds dangling from her ears and dripping over her bosom were a
very good imitation of the real thing.

"I'd
like you to meet Mrs. Charles Holburn, Miss Danver. Her husband is one of our
leading citizens."

"How
do you do," I said.

Mrs.
Holburn nodded curtly, unable to bring herself to speak. I knew she was the
grandest of grand dames, the self-appointed leader of Natchez society.
Schnieder was enjoying himself, relishing the outrage she wasn't quite able to
conceal.

"Miss
Danver is an old friend of mine," he continued, "connected with one
of England's best families. I believe you mentioned something about sending
your daughter Arabella to school in England. Miss Danver might be able to give
you some advice. She attended the academy at Bath, the finest of its kind, I
hear."

Mrs.
Holburn was clearly nonplussed, not certain how she should react. My reputation
was unsavory, yet I had the manner and the accent of an aristocrat. Could she
possibly have been mistaken about me? The fake gems told me quite a lot about
the woman, primarily that she couldn't afford to offend her wealthy and
powerful host. She forced herself to smile.

"We
must discuss schools some day soon, Miss Danver," she said.

"We
must," I agreed politely.

"Why
did you say that about the academy at Bath?" I asked as Schnieder led me
toward another group.

"It
was important to get in the first word. I knew you must have attended one of
those exclusive schools, so I selected the first that came to mind."

"I
understand your sister will be returning from school in Germany a few weeks
from now."

"In
June," he replied, somewhat tersely I felt.

"How
wonderful for her to come back to such a magnificent house. I believe you'd
scarcely begun it when she left."

"It
was a mere shell. Come, let me introduce you to a few more people."

I
wondered about his motives as he introduced me to first one, then another
distinguished citizen. Most were chilly, one or two actually friendly, but all
were polite, however restrained their politeness might have been. I hadn't
realized before the extent of Schnieder's power. How many of these people were
indebted to him? Ordinarily they would have been as disdainful of a man like
Schnieder as they had been of me. Was it fear of reprisal that kept them in
line?

"I
hear the plantation is coming along nicely," he remarked to one of the men
whose wife had just been forced to chat with me. "There should be a rich
yield. You must keep me informed, Ashton."

"I
shall," Ashton replied. "If all goes well, I should be able to repay
you in—"

"No
need to discuss that now," Schnieder interrupted. "This is a party.
Enjoy yourself."

His
manner was brusque. Ashton smiled nervously, but his eyes were full of
resentment. Schnieder chuckled to himself as we moved on. It gave him pleasure
to be rude to people who were obviously his betters.

"They're
getting restless," he remarked. "I think we should open the ball and
let them dance."

"As
you wish."

Schnieder
stepped over to speak to the musicians, and as he did so, I took the
opportunity to examine the ballroom more closely. It was a wonder of grace and
beauty. Four enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the elaborately molded
ceiling of gold gilt patterns against a pale-yellow background. There were
yellow silk panels on the tall white walls, framed in gilt, and the floor was a
dark-golden parquet. High French windows opening onto the gardens were hung
with luxuriant yellow silk draperies held back with golden cords. The elegant
French sofas upholstered in pale blue were surrounded by gilt chairs and
fragile tables holding porcelain vases abrim with pink roses. At least a dozen
black footmen in blue satin livery and powdered wigs circulated among the
guests with silver trays laden with drinks. It was hard to believe such
splendor, impossible not to be impressed.

I
noticed Bruce standing across the room with two other young men. He was
drinking a glass of brandy and pretending to listen to his companions' merry
talk, but he was keeping an eye on me. His expression told me that he was both
hurt and resentful. Coming back to join me, Schnieder turned to see whom I was
observing. Bruce scowled and turned his back on us. Schnieder chuckled.

"Your
young man seems upset."

"With
good reason. You took me away from him the moment we arrived."

"He's
served his purpose," Schnieder said.

"Oh?"

"We
both know that, Miss Danver."

Before
I could reply, there was a roll of drums. Guests began to clear the floor, and
as the musicians began to play a slow minuet, Schnieder took my hand. Everyone
watched as he led me onto the floor. I had expected him to be rough and clumsy,
but he executed the steps with a subdued energy that made the rather stilted
movements seem both natural and virile. After we had danced for a few moments
alone, other couples joined us on the floor. Schnieder never took his eyes off
me. A half-smile played on his lips. It was as though this exceedingly formal
dance were some kind of intimate mating ritual between the two of us, the other
dancers merely background.

"You
dance well, Miss Danver," he said.

"Thank
you."

"It
seems you have a number of accomplishments."

"I
try to do my best, no matter what I undertake."

"You've
doing very well at the moment."

The
polite conversation was full of double meanings. We were already fully aware of
each other's motives. His hard blue eyes held mine as we went through the paces
of the dance, and his lips lifted slightly at one corner as though at some
private amusement.

I
suddenly had the feeling that I was out of my depth, that I should retreat
before it was too late. Instinct told me that Helmut Schnieder was much too
formidable an adversary, one I was ill equipped to handle. Even though I might
achieve my goals, I would be at his mercy, and he would use me brutally for
some secret purpose. I immediately dismissed the idea. Things were going
exactly as I had planned, even better than I had hoped. It would be madness to
turn back now when success was clearly within reach.

"You
find Roseclay impressive?" he asked.

"Very."

"You
must let me show you more of it later on."

"I'd
be delighted."

"We
have much to discuss, Miss Danver."

"Do
we?"

He
nodded slowly, looking at me with that half-smile that so resembled a leer. We
continued to dance, the chandeliers shedding a dazzling light, the women's
gowns making a constantly shifting kaleidoscope of color. When the music
finally stopped, Schnieder bowed politely, thanking me for the dance.

"I
must perform my duties as host," he informed me, "must dance with all
the ladies and their daughters, but I'll get back to you before the evening is
over."

"I'm
quite sure of that."

"Till
later, Miss Danver."

He
sauntered away, and I was relieved to see Bruce moving purposefully toward me.
There was a tenseness about him I had never seen before, and I sensed anger
boiling up beneath the surface. He clasped my elbow tightly and led me off the
floor as the music started again. I felt that in his present mood he might
easily become unmanageable, and that wouldn't do at all. I made a concentrated
effort to soothe his ruffled feelings, chatting lightly, letting him fetch us
some champagne, flattering his vulnerable young ego.

Bruce
finally relaxed, and after we finished our champagne he took me to meet his
parents. Alicia Trevelyan was a plump, pretty woman in pink satin, her blond
hair a bit wispy. There was a dreamy vagueness about her as if she weren't
certain who I was. George Trevelyan was sternly handsome, his sharp blue eyes
studying me as his son made the introductions. His manner made it quite clear
that he considered me a predatory adventuress with a penchant for
cradle-snatching. There was a few moments of forced conversation, Trevelyan
barely civil, his wife vague, and then Bruce asked me to dance. He was a poor
dancer, as clumsy as I had expected Schnieder to be, but I found that somehow
touching.

If
the women at the ball were less than enthusiastic about accepting me, most of
the men were more than eager to make my acquaintance. When the dance with Bruce
ended, Charles Holburn asked me to be his partner, and he was merely the first
of a long line. I danced for well over an hour and a half without pause. When
Bruce finally rescued me and took me into the drawing room for refreshments, I
was most grateful. His neckcloth was beginning to wilt slightly. That errant
wave had flopped over his forehead again, and his cheeks were flushed a faint
pink.

"You've
been very busy with the ladies," I teased.

"Cynthia
made me promise to dance with all her friends. Tiresome lot, full of silly
chatter."

"Who
was that lovely brunette in blue velvet? I saw you dancing with her
twice."

"You
mean Denise? She's just a friend, not at all like the rest of 'em. She wants to
argue about politics and doesn't give a hoot if her petticoat is showing. She
reads a lot, just like I do. We exchange books now and then."

"I
see."

"Her
family lived next door to us back in Massachusetts. We grew up together, used
to get into fierce wrestling matches when we were kids. I always beat her
soundly. Denise wouldn't know how to flirt if her life depended on it. You've
nothing to fear."