Page 12 of A Counterfeit Engagement

The day of the ball dawned clear and fair.

Time seemed to lag that day, and all three of the Anderson ladies found it all but impossible to settle down to any real work.

For Mrs Anderson, there was the pleasure of meeting old friends whom it had not been possible to see for many a long year.

Better still, there was the excitement of Isabel’s first ball.

Isabel herself was jittery in her anticipation of being introduced to society, but Sophie and Mrs Anderson had no such qualms. Dressed like a princess, blessed with the beauty and sweet heart of an angel, and presented in society by a noble family, her dance card would no doubt be filled to overflowing.

Even Isabel herself was more excited than nervous, and she had also the pleasant prospect of spending the evening with Sophie and Sarah.

As they were beginning to dress, Isabel came into Sophie’s room with the stated object of asking her advice on several matters of fashion.

Sophie kept her smiles to herself. As she who professedly sought advice was best equipped to give it, it was clear that it was a question of nerves on Isabel’s mind, not one of style.

Thankfully, such questions actually were within Sophie’s competence to address.

After asking several questions of fashion and attending to the answers not at all, Isabel said suddenly, “Anyway, I am sure of being asked to dance at least once, for the duke will ask me.”

“He will have to be quick about it,” Sophie said wryly, “or your dance card will be full before he has the chance.”

Isabel laughed a little. “Do you really think so? We have so few acquaintances in town, no brothers, no family friends to take pity on me. I should hate to stand a wallflower all the night.”

“You need not worry about that,” Sophie told her firmly. “I have not forgotten my first Season, you know. To be pleasant and willing to talk was enough to grant one partners. And the really pretty girls in the room, as you will be, hardly ever had a chance to sit down.”

Isabel coloured. “I do not know about that,” she said, and changed the subject quickly. But Sophie could see from her small smile that the reassurance and praise had done its job. “Sophie,” Isabel asked, “what jewellery shall you wear with your gown?”

“I had thought my jet beads, though I am not sure but the amber cross would suit it as well. Which would you advise?”

“What about this?” asked Mrs Anderson. Sophie and Isabel turned to see her standing in the open doorway, holding an old, worn jewellery box in her hands.

Sophie looked stunned. “Mama, surely you cannot mean it. It is much too fine for me.”

“What is it?” Isabel demanded curiously.

Mrs Anderson looked taken aback for a moment, then laughed.

“Oh, of course, my dear. You won’t have seen it before, it has been put away for ever so long.

Isabel, this is your grandmother’s necklace.

One of only a few things I have left from your father.

” She smiled, a little wistfully, and handed the box to her older daughter.

“Sophie, I want you to wear it tonight.”

Sophie looked almost lost as she turned the box over in her hands, feeling the thin and balding velvet. Finally, she opened it, and Isabel gasped as a glitter of glowing gold and sparkling rubies lit the room.

“Sophie, you must wear it,” she said delightedly. Her older sister still seemed stunned into silence. Isabel gently took the box from her and fastened the necklace around Sophie’s neck, then handed her the small mirror that lay on her bureau.

“It’s perfect,” Isabel said softly. Sophie’s ball gown lay spread out on the bed, a rich green like leaves at the height of summer.

The three women gazed at the necklace around Sophie’s neck.

It was an unusual piece, very nearly daring.

The five chains of the necklace were so dainty, the links of gold seemed almost impossibly fine.

Each was a different length, and each had tiny rubies in a range of hues from petal pink to deep oxblood red affixed to it at different intervals, each perfectly complementing the next.

Unconsciously, Sophie’s hand came up and stroked the precious gems.

“Grandmother must have been an unusual woman,” Sophie said quietly. “I have never seen anything quite like it. Not since…the last time you wore it, Mother.”

“She was, indeed,” Mrs Anderson said. “And, Sophie, I don’t think I shall wear that necklace again. It belongs to you.”

“Mother!” Sophie said, shocked. “You can’t mean it. It’s yours. And what about Isabel?”

“It could never be mine,” Isabel said. “Don’t you see, Sophie? It’s perfect for you. Look.”

Sophie looked into the mirror for a long moment. It was not a necklace for a spinster or a wallflower. The strange design brought out an answering strangeness in her face. It was a necklace for someone who went her own way, quietly perhaps, but confidently.

Sophie thought she would rather like to know the woman who could wear a necklace like that.

“All right,” she said finally. “Thank you, Mother. I — I love it.”

“Come here, my darling,” Mrs Anderson said. She held out her arms, and both her girls crossed the room to her. The three stood there, their arms around each other. “I am so blessed in both my girls,” Mrs Anderson said quietly, “and if I do not go now and get ready for the ball, I will surely cry.”

The embrace broke up with laughter, and everyone hurried to finish their toilette.

∞∞∞

In the Haverly townhouse, Sarah’s maid Annie was busily putting the finishing touches on her coiffure.

Her gown for the evening was a buttery soft white silk.

A fine pattern of leaves and flowers was embroidered along the hems and cuffs in palest pink, only a handful of shades darker than the fabric.

“You look very fine indeed, Lady Sarah, if I do say it myself,” Annie said softly as she put the last silk flower into Sarah’s hair.

“You do beautiful work, Annie,” Sarah replied warmly. She nearly giggled as Annie attempted to hide a blush at the praise.

Sarah had many fine pieces of jewellery, but there was only one thing she would wear for such a night, the first engagement of her first Season. “Annie, could you bring me —”

Annie was already there at her elbow, offering her a jewellery box made of fine rosewood. “Thank you, Annie,” Sarah said. “How well you know me.”

Annie sniffed, playing at being insulted. “Well, miss, I have been here since you were a baby.”

“And lucky I am that you were,” Sarah said.

She opened the box. It was her mother’s pink pearls, the string of elegant, glowing spheres she had loved best of all.

So many memories had gone missing, fallen prey to time and youth, but Sarah could still remember the way they looked around her mother’s neck, how they would be warm after a long evening of wear.

Once, her mother had even let her wear them.

How elegant she had felt at the time, with the strand overlong on her child-sized body.

She had twirled for joy, and her father had been angry with her nonsense, but her mother had told him to leave her be.

And then they had both died, and she had not thought of the pearls for years. Until her twelfth birthday came, and Jonathan had given her a riding horse of her own, and the rosewood box that was as familiar as her own name.

Sarah clasped them around her neck and rose. “Wish me luck, Annie,” she urged.

“I’ll wish you luck, miss, but you’ll not need it,” Annie said confidently. “You have the duke at your side, the Haverly name, and your own good sense. That’s all you need, my dear.”

“I hope you’re right,” Sarah said softly. She went down to the drawing room, arriving at nearly the same moment as Jonathan.

“You look lovely, Sarah,” Jonathan said warmly.

Sarah smiled. “Between Isabel’s dress sense and Annie’s talent with hair, I have been well taken care of,” she said. “Jonathan, I believe this is the most beautiful gown I have ever owned.”

“It’s no more than you deserve,” Jonathan said. For a long moment, he searched her face. “Nervous?” he asked lightly.

“Frightened half to death,” Sarah said, only half joking.

Jonathan nodded. “No wonder,” he said, “but you’ll come through it in fine style. And now you even have a friend to do it with you.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Sarah said. “Isabel is so dear. She would make a wonderful sister, you know,” she added slyly.

“Stop meddling,” Jonathan said calmly, nodding to the coachman who had only just entered the room. He shrugged into his cloak and held Sarah’s for her. “It’s time to go to the ball.”

Sarah shivered. “I’m so glad we’re getting the Andersons on the way. I don’t want to do this alone!” she said.

Jonathan smiled. “Thankfully,” he said, “you don’t have to.”

And with no further ado, they followed the coachman outside.

Jonathan handed Sarah up into the coach, and they fell silent as the horses pulled away from the house and over the cobblestones.

Each was lost in very different thoughts.

Sarah was pulled between anticipation of her first ball, joy at the coming meeting with her dear friend, and fear least something should go wrong.

Jonathan found himself vacillating between a strange excitement at seeing Sophie, and perturbance that it should mean so much.

She is a good ally, a good friend, Jonathan told himself, nothing more. She need be nothing more to me.

The thought must have been important to him, for he repeated it several times before the coach pulled up at the Anderson’s rented townhouse.

No sooner had the coachman called for the Andersons than he was returning with them.

They had been ready and waiting, no doubt driven equally by politeness and anticipation to the most perfect punctuality.

“Oh, Sarah!” Isabel burst out the instant she entered the coach, with rather more loving good humour than politeness. “You look wonderful! The pearls go so beautifully with your dress!”

“You look very fine as well,” Sarah said. “And doesn’t it feel fitting, somehow, that we would both wear pearls?”

Isabel looked stunned for a moment, and then giggle. “I had not thought of it before, but Sarah, look at us – we match!”

It was a fact. As if to set off Sarah’s white dress and pink pearls, Isabel was wearing a gown in a soft, blushing pink that bought out the porcelain fairness of her skin and the roses of her cheeks, paired with a simple necklace of tiny white pearls.

“Oh! How funny!” Sarah said. “We couldn’t have planned better if we tried.”

“Indeed, I am only surprised that you did not,” Mrs Anderson said jestingly, and the whole party broke up into laughter.