‘You may depend upon it, my dears,’ said Mrs Williams, on the way home, ‘that this ball is being given in compliment to us – to me and my daughters – and I have no doubt that Sophie will open it with Captain Aubrey. Saint
Valentine’s day, la! Frankie, you have dribbled chocolate all down your front; and if you eat so many rich pastries you will come out in spots, and then where will you be? No man will look at you. There must have been a dozen eggs and half a pound of butter in that smaller cake: I have never been so surprised in my life.’
Diana Villiers had been taken, after some hesitation, partly because it would have been indecent to leave her behind and partly because Mrs Williams thought there was no possible comparison between a woman with ten thousand pounds and one without ten thousand pounds; but further consideration, the pondering of certain intercepted looks, led Mrs Williams to think that the gentlemen of the Navy might not be so reliable as the local squires and their hard-faced offspring.
Diana was aware of most of the motions of her aunt’s mind, and after breakfast the next day she was quite prepared to follow her into her room for ‘a little chat, my dear’. But she was quite unprepared for the bright smile and the repeated mention of the word ‘horse’.
Hitherto it had always meant Sophia’s little chestnut mare. ‘How good-natured of Sophie to lend you her horse again. I hope it is not too tired this time, poor thing.’ But now the suggestion, the downright offer, wrapped in many words, was of a horse for herself. It was a clear bribe to leave the field clear: it was also meant to overcome Sophia’s reluctance to deprive her cousin of the mare, and thus to go riding with Captain Aubrey or Dr Maturin herself. Diana accepted the bait, spat out the hook with contempt, and hurried away to the stables to consult with Thomas, for the great horse-fair at Marston was just at hand.
On the way she saw Sophia coming along the path that led through the park to Grope, Admiral Haddock’s house. Sophia was walking fast, swinging her arms and muttering
‘Larboard, starboard,’ as she came. ‘Yo ho, shipmate,’ called Diana over the hedge, and she was surprised to see her cousin blush cherry-pink. The chance shot had gone straight home, for Sophia had been browsing in the admiral’s library, looking at Navy Lists, naval memoirs, Falconer’s Dictionary of the Marine, and the Naval Chronicle; and the admiral, coming up behind her in his list slippers had said, ‘Oh, the Naval Chronicle, is it? Ha, ha!
This is the one you want,’ – pulling out the volume for 1801. ‘Though Miss Di has been before you – forestalled you long ago – made me explain the weather-gage and the difference between a xebec and a brig. There is a little cut of the action, but the fellow did not know what he was about, so he put in a great quantity of smoke to hide the rigging, which is most particular in a xebec. Come, let me find it for you.’
‘Oh no, no, no,’ said Sophia in great distress. ‘I only wanted to know a little about – ‘Her voice died away.
The acquaintance ripened; but it did not mature, it did not progress as fast as Mrs Williams would have liked. Captain Aubrey could not have been more friendly -perhaps too friendly; there was none of that languishing she longed to see, no pallor, nor even any marked particularity. He seemed to be as happy with Frances as he was with Sophia, and sometimes Mrs Williams wondered whether he really were quite the thing – whether those strange tales about sea-officers might possibly be true in his case. Was it not very odd that he should live with Dr Maturin? Another thing that troubled her was Diana’s horse, for from what she heard and from what little she could understand, it seemed that Diana rode better than Sophia. Mrs Williams could hardly credit this, but even so she was heartily sorry that she had ever made the present. She was in a state of anxious doubt: she was
certain that Sophia was moved, but she was equally certain that Sophia would never speak to her of her feelings, just as she was certain that Sophia would never follow her advice about making herself attractive to the gentlemen – putting herself forward a little, doing herself justice, reddening her lips before she came into the room.
Had she seen them out one day with young Mr Edward Savile’s pack she would have been more anxious still. Sophia did not really care for hunting: she liked the gallops, but she found the waiting about dull and she minded terribly about the poor fox. Her mare had spirit but no great stamina, whereas Diana’s powerful, short-coupled bay gelding had a barrel like a vault of a church and an unconquerable heart; he could carry Diana’s eight stone from morning till night, and he loved to be in at the kill.
They had been hunting since half past ten, and now the sun was low. They had killed two foxes, and the third, a barren vixen, had led them a rare old dance, right away into the heavy country beyond Plimpton with its wet plough, double oxers, and wide ditches. She was now only one field ahead, failing fast and heading for a drain she knew. At the last check Jack had a lucky inspiration to bear away right-handed, a short-cut that brought him and Sophia closer to hounds than anyone in the field; but now there was a bank, a towering fence, mud in front of it and the gleam of broad water beyond. Sophia looked at the jump with dismay, put her tired horse at it without any real wish to reach the other side, and felt thankful when the mare refused it. She and her mount were quite done up; Sophia had never felt so tired in her life; she dreaded the sight of the fox being torn to pieces, and the pack had just hit off the line again. There was a deadly implacable triumph in the voice of the old bitch that led them. ‘The gate, the gate,’ called Jack, wheeling his horse and cantering to the corner of the field. He had it half open – an awkward, sagging, left-handed gate – when Stephen arrived. Jack heard Sophia say ‘should like to go home – pray, pray go on – know the way perfectly.’ The
piteous face wiped away his look of frustration; he lost his fixed ‘boarders away’
expression, and smiling very kindly he said, ‘I think I will turn back too: we have had enough for today.’
‘I will see Miss Williams home,’ said Stephen.
‘No, no, please go on,’ begged Sophia, with tears brimming in her eyes. ‘Please, please – I am perfectly -,
A quick drumming of hooves and Diana came into the field. Her whole being was concentrated on the fence and what lay beyond it, and she saw them only a vague group muddling in a gate. She was sitting as straight and supple as if she had been riding for no more than half an hour: she was part of her horse, completely unaware of herself. She went straight at the fence, gathered her horse just so, and with a crash and a spray of mud they were over. Her form, her high-held head, her contained joy, competent, fierce gravity, were as beautiful as anything Jack or Stephen had ever seen. She had not the slightest notion of it, but she had never looked so well in her life. The men’s faces as she flew over, high and true, would have made Mrs Williams more uneasy by far.
Mrs Williams longed for the day of the ball; she made almost as many preparations as Jack, and Mapes Court was filled with gauze, muslins and taffeta. Her mind was filled with stratagems, one of which was to get Diana out of the way for the intervening days. Mrs Williams had no defined suspicions, but she smelt danger, and by means of half a dozen intermediaries and as many letters she managed to have a mad cousin left unattended by his family. She could not do away with the invitation, publicly given and accepted, however, and Diana was to be brought back to Champflower by one of Captain Aubrey’s guests on the morning of February the fourteenth.
‘Dr Maturin is waiting for you, Di,’ said Cecilia. ‘He is walking his horse up and down in a fine new bottle-green coat with a black collar. And he has a new tie-wig. I suppose that is why he went up to London. You have made
another conquest, Di: he used to be quite horrid, and all unshaved.’