The Weird Of The Wentworths Volume I Part 5

"Oh, how provoking this is, papa!" exclaimed the disappointed girl. "May I not send _once_ more?"

"No, love, you had better not; it will only annoy Madame, and you will get it none the sooner."

Ellen knew this was only reasonable, and tried to be as patient as she could under these trying circ.u.mstances; but when seven o'clock came, and still no appearance of her dress, her case was truly piteous. Johnny volunteered to drive to town and bring it back with him, if his sister would get everything else ready; and with a heavy heart Ellen went upstairs to dress. At last Johnny returned, and Ellen rushed to meet him--but no! Madame had sent it an hour ago--it should have arrived by this time.

"This is maddening!" cried the frantic beauty; "it is, it is; where can it be? They must have taken it to a wrong house!" And no longer able to control herself, she burst into a paroxysm of grief, and cried as if her heart would break. Her father tried every expedient to quiet her; he told her she would spoil her looks if she cried in this silly manner, and proposed she should put on her last ball-dress, which was very pretty; but it was in vain, Ellen had set her heart on appearing in her own beautiful choice; and, sooner than put on another, she would stay at home! Just then a bell rang. "My dress!" But no,--it was the carriage to take them to Dalkeith, and she not ready! Surely the stars fought against her. However, all grief must have its end, and at last Ellen's had too. A little after nine the missing robe arrived,--the messenger had only been detained at another house, that was all. How Ellen hated those people! She ran upstairs now as joyful as she had been miserable five minutes before. A long time was spent ere she was fitted to her taste; at last she appeared arrayed in all her magnificence, and more than an hour later than they had intended they set off for Dalkeith.

But Ellen's misfortunes were not yet ended. Before they had proceeded a mile on their road the carriage suddenly came to a dead halt.

"What is wrong now?" said Mr. Ravensworth, in his turn beginning to fear they were doomed to mishaps.

"Nothing, sir, nothing, only a trace broken. I will ride one of the horses to the village in ten minutes and get another, sir."

Twenty minutes, however, elapsed ere the coachman again made his appearance; during which time, left on the road in the most forlorn condition, they were exposed to the taunts of every coachman and flunky who pa.s.sed in their gay turn-outs to the ball, and called out, "Shall we tell the Duke you are coming?" and the like. After all their troubles, they were, however, safely landed at the Palace, arriving there exactly as the church clock struck eleven.

Ellen's only consolation was that they were at any rate fas.h.i.+onably late. How she wondered if the Wentworths had been there long! After being duly presented to the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess, who stood at the door in no very enviable position bowing, or saying a word to each guest as he or she pa.s.sed, Mr. Ravensworth and his daughter began to make a tour of the splendid suite of apartments, brilliantly lighted up for the occasion. Endless dancers, in glittering array, pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed them. All were smiling, all seemed happy,--all seemed to have friends but them; they knew n.o.body,--n.o.body seemed to know, or care about them.

Had it not been for Ellen's great beauty, which attracted the attention and admiration of all the officers present, they would have been unnoticed too. Ellen cared only for one face, and whilst she saw it not she was miserable. It was not till she and her father had thrice made the round of the suite that Ellen began to feel persuaded _he_ was not there. She refused every offer to dance, and they were by no means few, with a cold smile; and many a gay young spark who was introduced to her, and anxiously sought the pleasure of dancing the next set, went away sad and downcast when the disdainful Beauty refused him. At last she met a lady acquaintance, and seated herself by her friend, whilst Mr.

Ravensworth went in quest of a partner; he by no means intending to follow Ellen's example. Lost in a dreamy reverie, even while she talked her mind followed not her words, till a name was announced that made her give such a start, her friend asked her if she felt quite well.

After dinner at the Towers Lord Wentworth and Frank adjourned to the billiard-room till it was time to dress. Lord Arranmore and the Captain had dined at Piers.h.i.+ll, where several troops of the 7th were quartered, and were to start from thence. Ten had struck some time ere the game was finished, and then Lord Wentworth said--

"We had better go and dress now, I suppose; remember Ellen Ravensworth is to be there. I wonder if she went at _nine_."

"No doubt of it," said Frank; and with these words they left for their several rooms. It was eleven ere they again appeared, Frank in full uniform, and the Earl simply in evening dress, with the broad blue ribbon of the Garter across his breast.

"What! neither of the girls down yet?" said Frank; "one would have thought they had had time to dress."

At that moment the sisters appeared: Lady Edith in black moire antique trimmed with Venice point lace,--a scarf of the same expensive fabric was thrown over her shoulders with charming neglige; excepting her earrings and bracelets, which were of rubies, she wore no ornament, but a diamond star of five points on her brow. Florence was arrayed in Brussels lace over white glace silk; a string of the finest pearls was twisted through her golden hair; she wore pendants of emerald, and bracelets of the same precious gem clasped her snowy arms.

"Ah, you both look very nice; let me help you on with your opera cloaks," said Lord Wentworth. It was the announcement of "The Ladies Edith and Florence de Vere, the Honourable Francis de Vere," that made Ellen start so.

"Then he is not coming," thought she, "and my hopes are vain."

"Who are those lovely creatures?" said her friend.

"Lord Wentworth's sisters," mechanically answered Ellen, as the Earl, who had stayed a minute behind to give directions about the carriage, was announced.

"There is Wentworth's flame," whispered Lady Florence to Edith; "how flushed she looks; but she is really very pretty."

After saying a few words to his hosts, Lord Wentworth hastened after his party, only casting one glance at Ellen as he pa.s.sed, and again her hopes fell, and she sighed deeply. The admired of all admirers, the two young men, each with one of his sisters on his arm, pa.s.sed down the rooms, smiling, or bowing, or speaking to every one. Frank was soon relieved of Florence's company, who was whirled off in the new dance, the then novel waltz, by Sir Richard Musgrave, a lieutenant in the Captain's troop. Lord Wentworth's charge was less easy to dispose of; and, like Ellen, she saddened many a heart, till Lord Dalkeith succeeded in obtaining her hand for a quadrille. Just then the Earl caught a glimpse of Mr. Ravensworth hurrying past, and immediately followed him.

"Where are you racing to, Mr. Ravensworth?"

"Oh! I beg your pardon for not seeing you, my Lord, but I am just now in pursuit of my daughter, who seems lost in this gay throng."

"I can, then, be of the greatest a.s.sistance, and will guide you to the missing beauty. Here, this way,--gently! Ah! there she is like a blooming Eastern bride! And now, Mr. Ravensworth, as I have guided you so well, will you reward me by an introduction to your fair daughter?"

"With the greatest pleasure; but you honour her too much,--'The Earl of Wentworth--my daughter, Miss Ravensworth.'"

Ellen felt almost too happy to speak. Here actually stood the Earl before her! he had pushed a point to know her,--she felt proud of her power.

"Well, Miss Ravensworth, we at length know each other. Your brother Johnny is such a favourite with us all, and he has spoken so much of you, that I feel as if I was speaking to an old friend."

"Oh, you are too good to say so, my Lord," was all that Ellen could answer, her heart quite fluttering all the while.

Lord Wentworth, perceiving her hesitation, with the ease of a man of the world, soon put her at her ease too. A few minutes afterwards he led her forth as his partner in the next waltz. Those few minutes, with her idol's arm round her waist, and his head leaning over her shoulder, as they whirled through the elegant mazes of the dance, were a heaven upon earth to poor Ellen:--

"Merrily, merrily, cheerily, cheerily, merrily goes the ball,"

and our heroine was in turn introduced to all the members of the De Vere family, and what was more, was taken down to supper by the Earl, to the undisguised wrath and mortification of anxious mothers and jealous daughters, who "really could not see what there was to admire so very much in her." Whilst all went merry indoors, a very different scene was taking place out,--a hurricane of wind bent the trees, and blew out the festive lights, and like arrows on the blast came the white snowflakes, beating on the steps and covering over the carpets, which were no sooner laid down than they were whitened. Such was the scene as Lord Wentworth handed Ellen to her carriage, and this made a capital excuse for his offering his magnificent sable cloak, fastened with glittering diamonds, to protect the fair child of beauty's neck and shoulders from the wind and snow; and for insisting on her accepting it as a defence from the cold on her way home. He would take no refusal; so, after seeing her safely ensconced in her carriage, with his mantle wrapped round her, he more than pressed her hand, shook hands warmly with her father, and left her in an ecstacy of delight. Returning to the Palace, he collected his party as soon as he could. Florence had danced with every one; Edith with no one, excepting the Duke, Lord Dalkeith, a Russian Grand Duke, and of course her fiance, Arranmore, who, leaving Frank to drive home with the Captain, took his place by Edith in the Earl's carriage. They then all went home, pleased and delighted with the evening,--the Earl perhaps more than any one. On the following morning they found more than two feet of snow had fallen during the night, the sky had cleared, and a sharp frost crisped the surface.

"How did you like the ball, John?" said Lady Florence, entering the breakfast room, rubbing her hands with the cold.

"I thought it a d--d humbug; I know I liked our supper at the barracks ten times better--you didn't hear me come home this morning did you, Floss, at seven o'clock, by Musgrave's sledge?"

"No, but you must be tired then."

"Not a whit--Musgrave's affair is the most confoundedly clumsy contrivance I ever saw though: I promised to show him Wentworth's Russian sledge some day. Ha! ha! old fellow," continued the Captain as Lord Wentworth entered, "you went and did it, by Jove, though."

"I, how? what do you mean?"

"What do I mean? oh, I like that--why, Wentworth, you have turned that poor girl's head, I'll stake high; all our fellows were talking of it."

"I did nothing, merely danced with a pretty girl--flirted perhaps a little, no more."

"And never took her down to supper? nor spread your cloak over her fair shoulders? nor pressed her to take it home?"

"Bets are ten to one she dies a countess," said Frank, who had meanwhile entered.

"Oh! Frank, what stuff you talk!"

"Well, Floss," said John, "how many fellows did you dance with?"

"I am sure I don't know--how you do tease."

"No wonder! Egad! I believe you danced with every one," said her tormentor.

"I have ordered the two sledges," said the Earl, glad to change the conversation.

"Oh! hurrah! are you coming with me, girls?"

"No, thank you, John! we have more respect for our lives."

"You will, Arranmore; I told Wilton," (the master of the horse,) "to put in the two unbroken Irish beggars in my one--tandem fas.h.i.+on."

"No, Arthur, don't go," said Edith.

"Pshaw! don't frighten him, Edith. I shall think you are a coward if you won't come."