Page 38 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

Mr. Holly had turned slightly, too, his eyebrows raised as he glanced from his mother to Emily. One corner of his mouth turned up slightly before he redirected his gaze out the window. For a moment, that small smile made her think of another gentleman altogether.

Some corner of her mind wondered, for the space of a heartbeat, whether Mr. Lyness Eastwood would be among the crowds today. She dismissed the thought at once and turned to Mrs. Elgin with a small, conspiratorial smile.

“Now,” Emily said quietly, “while your mother assists with my education, perhaps you could tell me more about the Panorama. You said you have been to one before?”

“Yes. I have. In London.” Mrs. Elgin glanced at her mother, and when no interruption came, she went on speaking. “My late husband, Henry, took me to view one that showed the Battle of Waterloo. There were many soldiers present at the display, and they said it was most accurate of their experiences. Some had to leave when the cannon fire was performed by the orchestra. It was rather loud. My husband had to take hold of my hand, I jumped so when the cymbals crashed together.” A smile, tentative and likely drenched in memory, appeared on her face, making her appear nearer Emily’s age. Mrs. Elgin could not be above thirty years old. “But the whole of the spectacle was quite clever. They used flashes of light for gunfire, billowing gauze as smoke, and the master of ceremonies gave a most stirring account of the battle. He quoted the Duke of Wellington many times.”

It sounded as though this spectacle would be just as loud, given that a battle was also its subject. Emily did not let that deter her from encouraging her new friend. “It sounds quite thrilling. I am glad you thought to invite me today. And I now understand why my brother was reluctant to attend, as he served in the army himself.”

The man beside her turned again, his gaze finding hers with a flicker of interest. “I had heard Mr. Sterling’s past included time in the army. I can understand wanting to keep personal memories of such things tucked away. But for those of us who did not have the honor of serving, or do so by necessity, may, I hope, learn of those sacrifices through mediums such as the panorama.”

“I had not thought of that,” Mrs. Elgin admitted with a thoughtful tilt of her head. “I do hope you will stay close to us, Christopher.” Her gaze cut quickly to Emily and then back to her brother. “You know more than I do of battles and the military. Your explanations could make the experience more meaningful.”

The invitation to accompany Mrs. Elgin and her family suddenly made more sense to Emily. She did not doubt that Mrs. Elgin wished to be her friend, but a secondary motive was at play. The woman wanted to see if her brother and Emily would show any interest in one another.

Emily could not be upset with her friend, nor blame her for a sisterly action that Emily had taken part in on her own brother’s behalf. Only a few short months ago, she had subtly encouraged Jack to pay court to Juniper. She knew now, of course, he had wanted to all along. But she liked to fancy her approval may have made things happen with greater speed.

Now, though, she looked at Mr. Holly and said, politely, “Will any of your friends be present, Mr. Holly? I imagine you would rather keep company with them than with us, and I am certain the guidebook will do a fair job of explaining anything the master of ceremonies does not.”

There. Though it was not her most graceful comment, it did give him an opportunity and excuse to spend the time with others. An amused spark in his eyes suggested he was well aware of his sister’s setup and Emily’s careful redirection.

“Perhaps I can persuade any of my friends in attendance to join us. As it is an attraction without seating, and people move about freely, we need not worry overmuch about who keeps next to whom.”

Emily’s thoughts drifted elsewhere again to a quiet gentleman with a quick smile and thoughtful eyes. She hoped, absurdly, to see him again before long.

Mrs. Elgin moved the conversation along to the ball, occurring the next evening, and what she had heard of who would be attending. Emily turned to this discussion with delight, having received her dress from the seamstress earlier that morning. They discussed whether they preferred dressing their hair with flowers, feathers, or ribbons, and how relieved they were that the weather had remained mild in the evenings.

“With the ball beginning at ten, one hopes any heat from the day will have filtered out through the windows,” Mrs. Holly muttered, still working on a page in the notebook. The third page, it looked like.

“At least you ladies are not wearing coats and cravats,” Mr. Holly said, eyebrows raised. “The gentlemen present have more weighted cloth upon them than anyone ought to in the summer.”

“Not this ridiculous debate again,” his sister said with a slight toss of her head. “Christopher, you will never convince me that gentlemen dress more uncomfortably than ladies. Why, the number of undergarments one must wear⁠—”

Mrs. Holly cleared her throat. “We do not discuss undergarments in mixed company, Matilda.”

Mrs. Elgin pressed her lips together, but her eyes still sparkled with amusement. Despite whatever attempts the woman might make at matchmaking, Emily liked her on instinct. When she was not allowing her mother to overtake the conversation, Mrs. Elgin was quite pleasant in conversation and manner.

They passed the remainder of the ride speaking of the races, though none of the ladies intended to go to the Knavesmire again that week. They arrived outside the largest of York’s Assembly Rooms, on Blake Street. With half an hour remaining before the seven o’clock exhibition began, there was time to buy their guidebooks and enter the large assembly room before it grew too crowded.

The moment Emily stepped into the assembly room, the movement of bodies and the warm hum of voices closed around her. The large hall was already filling, people drifting in loose currents between the tall windows and the raised platform where the panorama would soon be unveiled. Heat gathered beneath the high ceiling, carrying the scents of starch and perfume through the air. The military band, promised in the newspaper article, were warming up in the orchestra balcony above the platform.

Emily paused to take it in, steadying herself, then caught sight of Lady Hartwell.

The older woman sat along the far wall in one of the few chairs provided for those unable to stand through the whole exhibition, her elegant posture unchanged despite the crowd shifting around her. Lady Hartwell was studying one of the beautiful floral arrangements displayed on a small table beside her.

Emily’s breath stalled. If Lady Hartwell was here, then Lord Hartwell must be somewhere nearby. And if Lord Hartwell was attending…

Her heart gave an unhelpfully hopeful little lift.

Lyness Eastwood could be present as well.

Before she realized she had moved, she had taken several steps deeper into the room, her gaze skimming the faces of the gentlemen present. She searched for the familiar figure of broad shoulders, quiet manner, and the composed elegance that made Mr. Eastwood stand out to her even when he seemed determined to blend into corners and shadows. She spotted a dozen dark coats with dark hair above them, none quite matching the picture in her mind.

“Oh, Lady Emily, the flowers,” Mrs. Elgin crooned from beside her, stepping forward as well. “I heard the arrangements were lovely, and look how clever the laurel is woven in frames on the wall.”

Emily straightened, recalling herself to her role as guest, and smoothed her gloves against her skirts. It was rather silly to feel so flustered. She was not here to look for him. She was certainly not here to be looked at by him, either. Even so, her pulse fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and nerves.

If he was here, she hoped she would not disgrace herself with some ill-timed blush or awkward greeting. They were supposed to be friends. And friends did not make each other blush. And if he was not present⁠—