"Oh Fanny, our plan is working a treat!" Antoinette grabbed the hand of her sister, who had been walking thoughtfully down the passage on the way to finding her husband, who was, she supposed, in the billiards room with Quamby.
"Really Antoinette, the world doesn't answer to your beck and call,” responded Fanny. “If you have something to say, then do me the courtesy of not accosting me like an errant servant.”
"Or accosting you like I would if you were that Adonis of a dancing master. " Antoinette giggled as she matched her footsteps to Fanny’s.
Signor Boticelli had taken two dancing classes and Fanny had observed, with interest and curiosity, her sister’s increasing agitation as Antoinette had invented various excuses as to why she needed to look in on progress. Orchestrating the budding romance between Sebastian and Arabella was not her chief motivation, she’d come to realize.
"Why, if I wasn’t so selfless, and fearful of upsetting the delicate direction this marvelous plan of mine is taking, I'd be in the ballroom with them right at this moment,” Antoinette went on. She sounded almost breathless, and Fanny wondered at the reason for her agitation as her sister added, eyes shining, “For you know what is happening as we speak?"
"You have divine powers now, do you, Antoinette?" Fanny put her head on one side. "You can see through doorways?"
"I’ve seen enough. Did you know that, right now, Arabella Reeves is clasped in Sebastian Wells’s embrace while Senor Boticelli demonstrates how to conduct the waltz with charm and grace? He chose Venetia—that is her name, isn't it?—as the excuse for him to show the world, or the local neighborhood, his abilities as a teacher. Of course, I've put the word about that the girl has two left feet and is the despair of Lady Indigo who has, out of the goodness of her heart, tried to instill in her graces that might afford her some chance of matrimony once the old lady has quit this mortal coil. For Lady Indigo expects to meet her maker daily, don’t you know? And if you don’t, then I can’t forgive you for not having to suffer her daily account of it. However, it’s been little different for the past dozen years, I believe. Anyway, Sebastian is quite smitten with Arabella—one only had to glance once at his expression as he stared into her eyes—and I predict a marriage proposal will occur before the house party is over.”
“By midnight of the Christmas Ball, in fact.”
Antoinette looked surprised. “How did you know?”
“You told me. But I still have not seen evidence that they are madly in love.”
“He's already had two clandestine meetings with her in the shrubbery."
The sisters threw open the door to the billiards room, causing their respective husbands to look up, Quamby asking, “And what were you doing in the shrubbery that you observed this, dearest wife? Or were you spying from the yellow drawing room? One never can tell with you." He removed his strawberry-red wig to give his bald scalp a judicious scratch while waiting for a response.
Naturally, Antoinette wasn't embarrassed in the slightest. "Not the yellow drawing room, for one can only see the drive and the comings and goings of our guests. However, I saw it from the blue drawing room on the western side, of course, which affords a marvelous view of the woods as well as the folly. Well, of the path leading to the folly. Unfortunately, one cannot quite see through the windows to the bed in there that we exchanged for the chaise longue."
"At your insistence, my dear. I'm sure you've enjoyed many lazy afternoon rests after the exertion of the fifty-yard walk from the lake."
"It can be tiring," Antoinette agreed. "And the quiet darkness amidst such charming surroundings is the perfect antidote to an afternoon's boredom."
Fanny exchanged an amused look with her husband. Antoinette and Quamby rubbed along quite well together and seemed to enjoy alluding to their extramarital dalliances in code in front of others. Fanny suspected it was a trait that was ingrained in her sister, always the extrovert. Briefly, she wondered if Antoinette had ever been in love. She seemed to live for brief, passionate flings, her heart never broken for more than twenty-four tragic hours following the demise of each love affair.
For Antoinette, it was clearly the thrill of the chase—or setting up the amours of some other worthy pair—that sustained her.
"And so the notorious matchmakers are in fact doing a public good at last," Fenton observed, beckoning Fanny to his side and handing her the billiard cue.
"Our instincts are acute," Antoinette said as Fanny lined up the shot before drawing back the cue and striking the ball with a neat and decisive thwack. With beautiful precision, the red knocked the side of the table, changed direction, and rolled neatly and obediently into the pocket to the sound of admiring applause of the others.
"As acute as Fanny's abilities to make things happen just as we direct," Antoinette said, pressing her lips together at h
er sister’s sharp look.
A sharp look which did not miss the fact that Antoinette was clearly concocting more than she was prepared to reveal.
So, when the gentlemen were once again absorbed in their game and having ensured there were no eavesdropping guests in their vicinity, Fanny drew her sister to the curtained alcove and demanded that Antoinette reveal her cards.
“Really Fanny, you take these things far too seriously.” Antoinette sounded cross as she gazed out over the sloping lawn to the lake at the bottom of the garden.
"And when you’re looking so very pleased with yourself, I can’t help but think you are not taking things seriously enough," Fanny replied. "Out with it! What ingenious plan have you been concocting?"
Antoinette didn’t need much persuading. She was always very amenable to telling her sister and husband how acute her perceptions were, and as a result, how clever she was at orchestrating the most wonderful of outcomes.
"First of all, I think I know just how to make Sebastian and Arabella’s dreams come true. And, secondly, I'm thinking how handsome Signor Boticelli is and that he and I ought to have a little additional dancing practise so we can demonstrate to our guests during the Christmas Ball how the waltz really should performed.”
“Weren’t you going to give Venetia a little nudge in his direction?” Fanny asked. “I thought you were going to take pity on the mousey little companion.”
“Clearly she is not interested in men, otherwise she’d not bury herself beneath that dreadful cap and look the other way anytime someone glanced at her.” Antoinette patted her décolletage. "I’m going to suggest this plan today to our very handsome dancing tutor. I trust he’ll have time to give me a few private dancing lessons."
“You can’t possibly include him on the guest list, Antoinette. And what about Venetia? What is to become of her?" Fanny felt a mixture of amusement and faint alarm. Antoinette could be so single-minded in her attempts at seduction, but what if Signor Boticelli had his sights set on someone else?