The days became full after that, and between the Hartfords hosting Tilly and Mr Preston managing work on the inn, Miranda did not see Mr Preston again until the ball. It vexed her that their opportunities to cross paths were scarce despite their proximity, and it appeared that their first few encounters had been pure serendipity.
Pleasingly though, Mr Hartford had begun stopping by The Hamilton with regularity and had struck up the beginnings of a friendship with Mr Preston, and Miranda became increasingly interested in the titbits of information she acquired this way. Her father reported that Mr Preston was a hard worker but had a highly strung constitution. He was an excellent card player, particularly at Whist, and his favourite drink was homemade elderberry wine, which his family had made from their own summer fruit back home.
As the ladies were getting ready for the ball, the final touches had Penny flitting about the house in a dreadful tizzy, darting about like a deranged moth. Her last minute demands concerned everything from the music ("Supper will be after the fifth waltz, have you never been to a ball?"). To the floral arrangements ("The lavender is much too fragrant and will sully the entire room! I specifically requested lilacs!"), to the attendees ("Charles, do be a dear and make sure the Gavestons are off the guest list. Miss Theodosia turned her nose up at my choice of venue and she is disinvited.")
To escape this, Tilly and Miranda had barricaded themselves in the dressing room on the second floor. Miranda had chosen an ivory dress embroidered with flowers and foliage at the hem, with leafy tendrils encircling the neckline and waist. It gave the impression of one walking through a field of flowers, which Miranda felt was appropriately playful for a young lady. As a finishing touch, she paired it with a cream Shetland lace shawl that belonged to her grandmother. It was knitted from wool as thin as spider silk and was fine enough to be pulled through a wedding ring.
Tilly's gown was white and trimmed with gold. At first glance it appeared plain, but up close it had a sheer layer of intricately embroidered cotton muslin. The tailoring was impeccable, and its simplicity was strikingly beautiful.
They were sitting in front of the mirror when Tilly handed her a necklace with a large honey-coloured gemstone.
"Try this one."
Miranda held it up to her neck, then put it back down. "I cannot. It's much too fine," she said. While the Hartford ladies had plenty of their own jewels, Tilly's were of another class, and Miranda felt faintly embarrassed wearing something fit for court.
"Nonsense! It complements your dress and colouring perfectly, you must," Tilly urged, fastening the necklace on for Miranda. "There. Isn't that lovely?"
Miranda touched the necklace, the jewels cool beneath her fingertips. "It is, yes," she acquiesced.
Tilly selected a delicate pearl and emerald piece for herself. "So, which gentlemen are vying for a spot on your dance card tonight?" she asked.
"I expect my mother has filled it already, each partner more detestable than the last." But there is one whom I hope there is room for, she thought. Mr Preston was increasingly lingering in her thoughts, and this was distressing and thrilling in equal measure.
"You must point him out to me! Is it that fellow from the assembly rooms?"
"Clive?!" Miranda spluttered. "Certainly not. And what about yourself? I expect you'll be rushed you off your feet all evening."
"And I shall be pleased for it! It should be nice to know some company outside of mummy's circle. A country gent is appealing in his simplicity."
When Penny had finally calmed down somewhat, she became misty eyed when she saw the two ladies atop the stairs. "Girls! You look marvellous. Oh Miranda, I do wish you would wear something in your hair."
The Hartfords and Tilly pulled up to the assembly rooms in their carriage, just in time to see Norman and Stevie arriving.
Stevie, dressed in butter yellow satin, rushed to them with a squeal and pulled Miranda into a hug. "This shall be a fortuitous night, I can sense it."
The ladies gathered together and made their way into the ballroom, where Penny soon whisked Tilly away to show her off. "Have you met Miss Ruteledge, daughter of the Earl of Rochford, MY NIECE?"
The assembly rooms were lavishly decorated and resplendent with fresh flowers, signalling the start of summer. Penny had outdone herself.
Miranda soon spotted Clive at his station, where he was having a tense conversation with a churlish gentleman. He appeared quite short and curt in temperament, and Miranda took an immediate dislike to him. After some heated words, the gentleman stormed off.
"Who was that?" Miranda asked Clive.
"Heavens if I know! Another whining aristocrat here to preen himself. Quite handsome though, wasn't he? In a loutish sort of way, but still." He shook himself from his reverie. "But never mind him, for I have good news!" He said, slapping the counter. "Mr Preston has offered me a position at The Hamilton once it is completed!"
"Clive! That's marvellous!"Miranda exclaimed.
"He's put me to work devising the menu with him. Keen interest in food, that man."
"Is that so," she said, filing away this.
"I hope to be seeing a lot of you there," he added under his breath.
"Shhhh!"
"Oh shush yourself," he said with good humour, shooing her away, as the first dance was about to begin.
As everyone got in formation for the opening quadrille, a cheerful Mr Preston made his entrance and approached Miranda. He looked even more handsome than she remembered, though his slight discomfort in such a setting was evident.
"Good evening Miss Hartford," he said, his eyes bright. "You look beautiful."
Miranda's cheeks coloured. "I must give credit to Miss Ruteledge. She insisted on ensuring I was well dressed this evening."
He smiled at her, and as they paired off to their respective partners for the first movement of the quadrille, the words he murmured under his breath made her face burn. "You always look beautiful,"
She was uncertain if he had meant for her to hear him, but it did not matter. The words induced such a heady state of delight that the first three movements of the quadrille passed in a blur. By the time it came to their turn to dance, she was positively glowing.
"My lady," he said, taking her hand. His hands were slightly roughened by work, but his touch was gentle. As for his dancing, it was adequate if a little unrefined, but they were well matched in height and made a most striking pair. It was over in a blur, and as they looked into each other's eyes, captivated, it was only Penny's voice that pulled them back to the present.
"Miranda!" Penny called from across the room. "I must introduce you to Mr Detorri,"
Miranda groaned. Mr Preston drained in colour and fell silent.
"Oh Miranda, there you are," said Penny, dragging her forcibly in front of the angry gentleman Clive had been speaking to earlier, who wore a tight smile. He was not unattractive, with heavy lidded eyes and an angular face, but there was something dour about him.
"This is Mr Edmund Detorri, Naval Officer from Norfolk."
"How do you do Miss Hartford?" he asked in a startlingly high pitched voice.
Alarmed, Miranda managed to force out a reply. "Very well sir."
"Lovely." Penny said. "I shall leave you two to it."
Mr Detorri gripped her arm a little too hard, and led her to the first waltz. His dancing was admittedly skilled, but he had all the charm of a paper bag.
She endured the dance whilst looking out for Mr Preston, but he had made himself scarce all of a sudden, and it was not long before Mr Detorri grew irritated with her distracted state.
"Are you quite alright?" he asked.
"Yes, yes, very well," she said hastily.
"You seem awfully flighty. Frankly your mother warned me about you."
"If only you had heeded her warning," she mumbled, before she made a proposal. "Mr Detorri, I mean no disrespect, but I am merely enduring this to appease my mother. It would be to both our benefit if we simply get this dance over and done with tonight."
"Your intentions are quite clear," he replied, his voice full of contempt.
They bowed to each other half heartedly at the conclusion of the waltz and went their separate ways.
Having extricated herself from Mr Detorri, she wandered off in search of Mr Preston. She grew increasingly uneasy until she finally spotted him across the room, paired in a dance with Tilly, no doubt concocted by Penny.
Tilly was radiant in her element, and they made a fine pair. Very fine, in fact. A flash of jealousy flared within her, but she reminded herself that Tilly was the guest of honour after all, and as his social circle here was still yet small, it was perfectly acceptable for him to only dance with ladies he was acquainted with. They would surely have more opportunities tonight.
But to Miranda's disappointment, he seemed to go out of his way to avoid her for the remainder of the evening, in a subtle manner so that he could not be accused of being rude. His gaze averted itself so their eyes never met, and in every dance thereafter, it seemed assured they were always separated by design. With every missed glance and step aside seeming more and more deliberate, Miranda's discontentment grew until she was convinced she was mistaken about him after all.
During refreshments, she slunk into a chair decorated with rosebuds next to Stevie. "He's ignored me entirely since the first dance. I surely have misread him," she said, forlorn.
"No, no!" Stevie insisted. "It must be something else." She leaned in. "I watched him during the quadrille. Perhaps he tried to hide it, but he only had eyes for you, Miranda! A gentleman with such affection in his gaze could only be looking upon a lady in his favour."
"How can you know that?"
"I am a master of matters of the heart, Miranda. I can sense all glimmers of lust within my sphere."
Just then, they spotted Mr Preston as he slinked through the red velvet curtains out to the balcony.
"Go follow him!" Stevie hissed.
"Alone? Someone will see." An unmarried young lady meeting with a gentleman in private was deeply frowned upon, particularly during such a public occasion.
"The refreshments have made them far too tipsy to notice tonight. What on earth did Clive put in the drinks? Besides, I'll make an excuse for you if need be. Go!"
The two ladies hugged and Stevie wished her luck.
Miranda gingerly made her way to the balcony with as much nonchalance as she could muster, careful not to take a direct path too quickly or draw any attention. She reached the doors and slipped behind the heavy, ornate curtain into the cool night air, where Mr Preston was leaning against the balcony railing.
He startled at the sound of her footsteps and turned around. "Miss Hartford?"
"I was hoping we could have another dance this evening, but you have proved rather elusive tonight," she said. She had meant to be civil, but she was so frustrated that she blurted out, "Your behaviour tonight has been most perplexing."
He recoiled at her words. "I hope you understand my distance was no reflection of your actions," he said, apologetic, before adding quietly, "or indeed, my feelings."
Her mouth went dry. "Then why?"
He took a deep sigh. "I wish not to burden you with my quandary. Besides, my waltz is poor anyway," he said with a grin.
"Perhaps I can give you a lesson," she said, surprising them both with her boldness.
His eyes widened. "Please."
She took his hand and instructed him through the first steps, and they were soon shuffling slowly around the moonlit balcony, the music from inside faintly floating through.
There was a moment where everything clicked and they fell silent, their steps transforming from tentative to carefree. They even giggled when he tried to spin her under his arm and she almost tripped over his feet. She had to grab on to him so as not to fall, and they ended up holding each other in rather close proximity.
She suddenly felt very shy, her newfound confidence all slipping away from her. After what seemed like an eternity, she found her voice. "This is wonderful," she whispered.
"Indeed. Lady Hartford is a formidable hostess."
"I meant this," she said, looking into his eyes, where she saw a spark of recognition, the night coming full circle.
Stevie suddenly flew through the curtains with a bewildered Norman in tow, causing Miranda and Mr Preston to fly apart from each other. "Your mother is coming!" She hissed, before switching tack in a second, as Penny's figure punctured the curtain.
"Oh Lady Hartford, Miranda was just showing us the constellation Cassiopeia!"
"...indeed I was," Miranda said, gesturing at no star in particular. Isn't he marvellous?" she said, as Stevie jabbed her sharply in the ribs. "She!" Miranda corrected herself.
Penny's eyes narrowed. "I did not know you had an interest in cosmology."
"But of course!"
"And what was Cassiopeia the queen of?"
Miranda observed Mr Preston mouthing something out of the corner of her eye.
"Opia... opium?"
The collective looks of horror told her she was wrong.
"Come now," Penny ordered, gliding back into the ballroom.
"Aethiopia," Stevie whispered forlornly.
Miranda helplessly looked back over her shoulder as she followed Penny, but she had an idea. She let her shawl slip from her shoulders and tossed it at Mr Preston, who caught it, utterly confused. She hadn't the faintest clue if it would work, but as she walked away, she couldn't stop her lips curling into a smile.
