Chapter 2 (no.1)

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Iphigenia's convictions about the degree of comfort to be expected at Wynleigh were not easily to be overborne. She had suffered many slights and veiled insults whilst on the 'Marriage Mart' in London, but she had never felt so acutely uncomfortable before as she did during the course of that first evening at the home of her ancestors.

As she descended the gleaming white staircase after being dressed for dinner by Sukey, Iphigenia was almost in a mood of contentment. She felt greatly refreshed by changing out of her travelling habit, and after she had lain down upon the spacious and comfortable bed, looking out at the park for half an hour, had washed and had her hair tidied, she felt so much more the thing that she was able to resolve to think no further of what had passed between Sukey and Lord Wynleigh outside her door. After all, if she interested herself in the welfare of every servant, she would have no time for anything else; and why could the explanation not be that her uncle had justifiably and briefly reprimanded Sukey for some earlier trespass? Iphigenia saw all the force of her own argument, but was unconvinced.

However, despite not considering herself to be a vain creature, Iphigenia found that it was very difficult to be in a bad mood when she was dressed beautifully and in good health. She was very well satisfied with how well she looked in a light blue evening gown of sprigged muslin, with the slightest of demi-trains, and a string of pearls around her neck. Sukey, too, had beem full of praise - although, given the nature of Sukey's previous employment, Iphigenia was not sure how much emphasis to place on these effusions. At any rate, I look more breathtaking than a dressed leg of mutton! Cheerful reflections, indeed.

She was being most careful of her footing as she descended the final few steps of the great polished staircase, as she did not wish to suffer the pain and indignity of a fall. At least it could not make the slightest difference to any favourable impression that I might have made here. Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, Commander Aldace walked past.

It would have been excessively rude of him not to have stopped to make his bow, although it was plain from the fleeting look of resignation that crossed his face that he would much have preferred to continue alone. However, good manners overcame inclination, and the Commander made his bow, sweeping off his chapeau-bras, and taking Miss Ffouldes' hand as she set foot on the cool tiles of the hall floor. The Commander was also in good looks, attired as he was in his dress uniform. Not all men were able to wear knee breeches becomingly, but Aldace was one of them, Iphigenia observed.

With a look of either abstraction or boredom, The Commander asked, 'Are you now on your way to the dining room, Miss Ffouldes?"

Amused as much as she was piqued by seeming so tiresome to Aldace, she replied brightly, 'Why yes, I am.'

In the same resigned tone, he further inquired, 'Will you allow me the honour, then, of conducting you the remainder of the way?'

She was unsure what answer to make. Would it be more painful for him to have to continue being pleasant to me all the way to the drawing room, or for him to be snubbed and sent about his business? A mischievous smile curled her lips. Well, there can be no comparison, can there? Besides, I don't know the way.

'Thank you so much, Commander Aldace. I confess that after traveling so far I am greatly fatigued, and will be glad of your support.' She slowed her pace, and deliberately added some weight to her arm.

Aldace merely contented himself with a smile that extended no further than the corners of his mouth. His eyes showed no amusement at all.

Iphigenia's did - they positively glittered. As she dawdled, she wondered which topic of conversation would be the dullest to introduce. 'You will be interested to note, Commander, that the state of the roads as we traveled was truly excellent.'

'Indeed, ma'am?' he answered woodenly.

'Oh yes,' she enthused. 'Quite dry, which is a remarkable circumstance at this time of year, and yet not so dry as to become uncomfortably dusty. I can think of nothing worse than a dusty road, sir, can you?'

'I regret to inform you that I can,' he replied. Is the gallant Commander indulging in irony?

'Oh?' she asked, inviting elaboration.

'On the sea, Miss Ffouldes, we find ourselves so accustomed to being wet that the experience of being coated in dust would, at least, have that of novelty,' he said, brusquely.

They travelled in silence for a moment down the white and spotless passageway whose sparseness was relieved only by the occasional landscape painting hanging in it. The pause in conversation was just long enough to put Aldace at his ease, thinking that Iphigenia had given up. She had not.

'I had forgotten that in your naval career the weather assumes an importance greater even than that it does for those of us who use the public highways. How fortunate that I hit upon a topic so well designed to please you,' she congratulated herself, with neither sincerity nor shame.

Blandly, he replied, 'I can assure you, ma'am, that I am quite able to converse on the topic of the weather. If it would amuse you, or edify you, I can detail even the tiniest distinctions between wind speeds and directions, discuss the implications of various weather systems for navigational purposes, and, without references to charts, describe the intriguing differences in tidal patterns in almost any port in Europe, the Indies, or as far as the Cape.' He paused, smiling at Iphigenia without warmth.

So. You are increasing the price of play, are you? Very well.

'But I leave it to yourself to determine how interesting you would find such conversation,' he added.

It appears that I must find a topic even less engaging ... now there's a thought. What could be more obnoxious than to think that I had set my cap at him? Odious as he finds me.

Iphigenia stared adoringly at him, and replied breathlessly, 'Oh sir! You are truly a man of information and sense - and your condescension in deferring to my own humble wishes quite, quite overwhelms me!' She hastily flipped open her fan, hanging from her wrist beside her reticule, waving it with vigour in an effort to cool her pretended ardour.

Aldace was stunned, and stared directly ahead, refusing to make further comment. Fortunately for him they had reached the drawing room where the family assembled before dinner. Iphigenia was quite delighted with her success at needling Aldace. She had been worried for a few moments, but felt that she was ultimately entitled to claim a victory.

Unhanding Iphigenia and bowing, Aldace gestured her to the doorway. 'We have arrived, Miss Ffouldes,' he said.

Iphigenia felt obliged to show mercy to a vanquished foe. She smiled most winsomely and said, 'Thank you for your escort,' before entering the room.

Her self-satisfaction did not last long. The rest of the party was assembled there, her mother decked out in a sober gown of grey satin, and darkly flashing with imitation jet jewels around her throat, on her ears and in the grey and white turban she wore. 'Ah, Iphigenia, there you are! Come and meet your ...' She stopped as she saw Aldace enter the room immediately behind her daughter. Lady Adeline smiled, showing a predator's excessive amount of tooth, and said in what she took to be a subtle tone, 'How pleasant to see Young People amusing each other so well. I am sorry to deprive you of my daughter's company, Commander Aldace, but I must present her to her aunt, Lady Wynleigh.'

Aldace's face was almost unreadable. He bowed curtly, and stalked over to the pianoforte to peruse the music sheets in solitude.

Iphigenia felt that the lustre of her victory was tarnishing, however she determined to banish any feelings of resentment towards her parent for spoiling what had previously been a shining moment in her life. After all, in what way am I surprised by her behaviour? Summoning a smile from the nether recesses of her soul, she moved across the room to where her mother had indicated her aunt was to be found.

A smile was a seldom-used weapon in Lady Adeline's repertoire; the one she attempted then had all the sincerity and warmth of a snarling tiger, which greatly unnerved Iphigenia: to see her without an insulating layer of duplicity was the same as seeing her naked.

Lady Adeline began, in her most affable tone, 'My dear sister, Lady Wynleigh, here is my only daughter, Miss Iphigenia Ffouldes,' And as Iphigenia curtsied politely, she continued, 'How charming it is to see you, my dear Iphigenia, making your bow to the wife of my dearest brother, in this, our ancestral home! How I have longed to make my cherished offspring known to all who are fotunate enough to make their lives in these, the very Halls of my Fondest Recollections!' Iphigenia was torn between revulsion at the melodrama, and a desire to know from whence these affecting utterances sprung.

Her parent, evidently well pleased by her own performance, patted the limp hand of Lady Wynleigh and said archly, 'I shall entrust Iphigenia to your care, my dear. An aunt's protection and affections can be second only to a mother's, so you see I have no qualms to afflict me in my absence! Lady Adeline unfurled her fan and moved away to do what she might to bring Kit, who was happily seated by fire reading a newspaper, more to the notice of his uncle who was equally contentedly stuffing a pipe with tobacco in the chair opposite him.

Iphigenia reflected that, although her mother might not be afflicted by qualms, she herself was. Lady Wynleigh, no doubt, wished every Ffouldes in the county at the bottom of the nearest convenient well; and, far from regarding Iphigenia as a dear niece, must consider her a leech, or some worse blood-sucking creature. And now to make myself agreeable!

She looked Lady Wynleigh over carefully, for the first time. She was a woman of short stature, greying light brown hair, and equine features. Her gown was of the finest satin brocade, gold designs intertwined with burgundy ones on her overdress and her very large puffed sleeves. Two little slippers of gold peeped out from beneath the under-dress of the same colour. They matched a solitary and forlorn feather that rose out of a garnet-encrusted hairpin, rather like a flag on a ship that was ready to surrender. It was clinging precariously to the thin strands of her carefully dressed hair. Although no fault could be found with the ensemble itself, somehow when one included Lady Wynleigh herself, the whole managed to look incongruous. Iphigenia noticed how Lady Wynleigh's shoulders sloped unbecomingly, and how the gown appeared somehow too large for her, even though it proclaimed itself as having been carefully tailored, and how she made one think inexorably of a miserable child having been caught dressing up in her mother's good clothes. Lady Wynleigh was obviously agitated. Her brow was furrowed and she waved her fan fitfully, her reflexes bringing it up to hide the distress on her face, her upbringing forcing her to lower it again.