Rubbing his ribs, he gave me a smile. His smile was quite charming, particularly with that perky little spot of beard at the bottom of his strong face, which made him look like a trickster out of some old northern legend.
‘For you, I shall do my best to be serious, Miss Linton. Though I can’t promise anything.’
‘Very well.’ Content, I turned to the crowd again and pointed with my fan. ‘What about her?’
~~*~~*
‘Flip! There you are, my dear fellow!’
At the sound of Captain Carter’s voice, Sir Philip turned around. ‘Carter!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve been looking for you, to…’
His voice trailed off, as he saw who was standing beside Captain Carter.
The Captain nodded to the rather confused-looking blonde lady who was standing beside him. ‘Philip, may I introduce you to Lady Katharine Rowntree? Lady Katharine? This is the man I said you simply had to meet, Sir Philip Wilkins.’
‘But you said you wanted to show me a painting from Lady Metcalf’s collec-’ the young lady began.
‘Anyway,’ Captain Carter said hurriedly, and loudly. ‘Now we’re all introduced. Isn’t that wonderful?’
‘Wonderful is hardly the word for it,’ Sir Philip breathed. He had an expression on his face I had seen only once before - when he had first beheld Ella at Lady Metcalf’s last ball. ‘Perfect would be more appropriate. Lady Katherine, would you do me the honour of the next dance?’
‘Oh… why, certainly, Sir Philip,’ she said, blinking in astonishment. ‘But… don't you already have a partner? Your companion…’ her eyes wandered to the place where Ella was standing. Ella opened her mouth reflexively.
I was beside her in a flash, grasping her arm in iron grip.
‘She doesn't mind at all. I think she’s a bit tired.’
‘Oh. Well, if that’s the case…’
Sir Philip’s eyes hadn’t left Lady Katherine. He extended his arm, and she took it.
Ella watched as the two of them departed.
‘W-what was that?’ she asked.
‘Can’t you tell? A miracle, of course.’ Across the ballroom I could see Edmund. He was staring gloomily out of the window again. ‘And,’ I added, ‘We might just have time for another, tonight. Look over there.’
~~*~~*
‘Ella.’ Edmund’s voice was hoarse. I could tell, because I was hiding behind a potted plant nearby. I was curious, all right? I had worried myself to death over this affair of Ella's. The least I wanted in exchange was to see the happy end!
The young piano tuner’s son looked around the ballroom. ‘I don't see Sir Philip anywhere.’
Ella took a step forward. Her eyes were glued to the young man opposite her.
‘No.’
‘So is it done, then?’ he asked bitterly. ‘Are you his now? He has proposed?’
Another step forward.
‘No.’
Edmund’s eyes flew open. Then his jaw muscles twitched. ‘But he will.’
Another step. They were standing in front of each other now. I thanked God that they were in a quiet corner of the room, with nobody paying attention to them. The way they were looking at each other made things all too clear for anyone who cared to look.
‘No,’ Ella whispered.
‘What do you mean, no?’ His voice was just a whisper, too - desperation, pain, with a tinge of hope.
‘It appears Sir Philip has lost interest in me. I… I cannot rightly understand it, but he was introduced to another young lady, and from one moment to the next seemed to forget I exist.’
The spark of hope in Edmund exploded into a fiery blaze. I could see it shining in his eyes.
‘He is a fool,’ he said in a quiet voice.
It was he who took the next step forward. They were standing almost close enough to kiss now.
But they wouldn’t, here in the ballroom, would they?
Would they?
To keep myself from screaming a warning to the two lovelorn fools, I bit down on the sleeve of my dress.
‘So, Miss Linton, it appears that you are still free.’ Edmund’s voice was casual, but his eyes weren’t leaving hers for a moment.
‘It appears so, Mr Conway.’ Her eyes seemed fixed on his by the same unbreakable force.
‘And will remain so? Or will Sir Philip appear at your door tomorrow morning, begging forgiveness?’
‘Do not ask me how… but I know in my heart that he is gone. He will trouble me no more.’
Edmund took a deep breath.
‘And don't you regret his leaving? Haven’t all the flowers that he sent you conquered your heart?’
‘If he were to send me a million red roses it would not gain him my love.’
I nodded approvingly. My sister might have very strange ideas about love, life and honour, but at least she wasn’t mercenary. Never that.
‘And his noble titles, his lands?’ Edmund enquired. ‘Are you not sorry to lose such grand prospects?’
‘Were he the King of England and offered me all the riches of the Empire, I would not be swayed.’
Quite right! Oh, that’s female rectitude for you!
‘So you are truly still free,’ Edmund breathed.
‘I am,’ she said, then, lowering her voice so only he - and I, behind the nearby potted plant - could hear: ‘But my heart is not. It was given to another long ago.’
Love, adoration, yearning, relief: A symphony of emotions played on Edmund’s face - or maybe it was a sonata, considering he was a piano tuner’s son.
‘Then,’ he said, his voice trembling in vibrato, full of feeling, ‘since you are still free, may I request the honour of your hand for the next dance, Miss Linton?’
She dipped her head in the chastest curtsy I had ever seen. ‘You may, Mr Conway. I shall await you on the dance floor.’
And with that, she glided away.
May I say that, up to this moment, I had never looked forward to a dance as I did to this one? Which says something about my attitude to dancing, considering I wasn’t even going to be involved in the actual exercise.
When, finally, one song ended and the musicians struck up the tune of the next dance, I stuck a bit more of my dress into my mouth, just to be sure I wouldn’t make any noise and alert them to my secret hiding place.
There he was! Edmund was approaching Ella while in the background, the notes of a slow waltz sounded. The most romantic of all couple dances - I couldn’t have planned it better myself.
He stopped in front of her and bowed.
‘Miss Ella?’
She curtsied.
‘Mr Conway.’
He extended his arm. She took it, her face composed, but her eyes shining with an inner light. I didn’t fail to notice that instead of placing her hand against his so his fingers touched the back of her hand, as was custom for reasons of propriety, she slid her hand into his so that his fingers could surround all of her little hand and touch her palm. When her hand was in his, I could see a small shiver going through her body. It was as if she had finally come home.
He led her onto the dance floor to a place between the other couples. Most of them stood there, awkward, fidgeting, not knowing where to look. Edmund and Ella knew exactly where to look, and it wasn’t at their feet. They stared at each other’s faces as if beholding an angel from heaven. I had slight worries that they might trip during the first turn, considering how they couldn’t take their eyes off each other - but somehow, they managed not to.
As the music began in earnest, they seemed to sink into each other’s arms. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, fluid, and graceful. I stared in awe. This I had not expected. All right, Ella was not as bad a dancer as I - she was far too timid to step on any gentleman’s feet. But I doubted the piano tuner’s son had had much experience with waltzing, and there they were, waltzing away as if they wanted to win a dancing competition.
It couldn’t just be their infatuation, could it?
Suddenly, I remembered that when dancing with Mr Ambrose, I hadn’t stepped on his feet either, though I had been sorely tempted to. Why did I remember this now? I couldn’t imagine that I was…
‘They make quite a couple, don't they?’