Page 21

21. Dancing Ghosts

The ladies were allowed to sleep in late the next day and had a leisurely breakfast.

Once they were in the drawing room, Mrs Black said, “Today we shall have calling hours. To be fair, I should warn you that most of your callers are actors of a sort—not the type that will appear on stage, but men and women under my employ who will attempt to teach you something. Some will be kind and welcoming. Some will be gossiping harridans. Some will be snakes in the grass. We shall learn to deal with them.”

Everybody grumbled a bit which Mrs Black allowed to continue for a few minutes before she intervened.

“Oh, my goodness, I almost forgot! This is an elective day. We were supposed to have a vote on the day’s activities, but I completely forgot. I suppose better late than never?”

“It would be only right,” Miss Red said, though as she looked at the hope in the other students’ eyes for something more interesting, she thought there was another joke afoot.

“Let us have a show of hands for everyone who prefers to return to the barn for more practice smashing boxes and breaking holds from my ogres.”

The groans that met that pronouncement made the vote rather superfluous, so accepting callers was to be the tedious order of the day. It would be several hours before most of them worked out that many of their days were spent just like that, and they had never been overly bothered before.

The lessons in deportment, etiquette, and studying what people said and did not say went well, and three hours later they were somewhat tired when over luncheon, Mrs Black debriefed them on what they had heard, learnt, and said. She had several suggestions, but on the whole, the students had done well enough.

Miss Darcy would obviously need more training before tackling London society, but she had acquired just barely enough sense to listen to what Mrs Annesley had to say. The Weatherby sisters and Maria Lucas were still a bit timid for Mrs Black’s taste, but she judged they would be fine. The Bennet sisters would return to Meryton, or possibly Gracechurch Street, with sufficient skills to handle the society much better than what they had previously learnt. At the very least, she no longer worried any of them would ruin the family.

She suspected Mrs Bennet was in for a rude awakening, and was about half-sorry she would miss it (well, quarter-sorry at least).

~~~~~

After luncheon, the ladies returned to the drawing room, and it seemed a refresher on deportment might be in order based on the squeals they let out when they discovered the new ball gowns were hanging on portable display racks, along with a few seamstresses for final fitting.

Mrs Black let them enjoy the moment and rejoice over the gowns for a while, then finally got down to business.

“As you all no doubt remember, as part of the course you will attend two London events. Miss Burgundy, given the lessons of the modiste, what would you suppose that means?”

Jasmine Weatherby did not especially like being called upon, but she was better at answering than she had been a week earlier when she found herself with Maria Lucas in the too terrified to speak club. Brutality day had beat much of her reticence out, so she gave the question a serious think.

“The lesson of the day was: Words matter , so I imagine you will tell us that ‘attend’ does not mean exactly what we assume it will.”

Mrs Black rather uncharacteristically laughed. “Very good, young lady. I have to tell you that only about half of the first ladies I call upon at this stage of the class come up with the answer.”

Most of the ladies were buoyed by this more amiable seeming Mrs Black, but then they wondered what trick she was likely to have up her sleeve—for one seemed nearly inevitable.

“Miss Violet, might you speculate?”

Maria did not like being called on any more than Jasmine did. “I suppose we shall attend a ball or the theatre, but not as the usual participants?” she guessed timidly.

“Correct. We all think of attending a ball as enjoying dancing, a bit of flirting, perhaps even love in the air. That said, keep in mind that chaperones, fathers, uncles, and servants attend balls.”

“So, you tricked us?” Miss Green sneered petulantly.

“Not necessarily. On our last night we shall attend a play at the theatre, in a box , and I shall not speak a word unless spoken to, unless of course one of you misbehaves. Think of it as a bit of a final exam. For tonight, though, we will attend a ball and take lessons.”

Everyone looked either crestfallen, sullen, or both; but Mrs Black continued. “Think about it. Out of eight ladies, only three are even old enough to be out in London society. Most of you are out in your local communities, but that is an entirely different kettle of fish, and some of you probably should not have even been out there. In addition, imagine how much consternation you would experience if eight unwed ladies were abruptly added to a ball. This will give you a chance to examine the shark-infested waters of the ton without getting eaten.”

“Will we at least get to wear our new gowns?” Miss Green asked.

“Of course! I am not an ogre. Think about how much fun you will have. You can see all the fashions of the first circles and report back home. You can learn a few more things that might save your bacon one day. You can observe the vast difference in the quality of the music and the average skill of the dancers. I believe you will find the evening enchanting, if you allow yourselves to enjoy it.”

They all agreed with various levels of enthusiasm or grumbling. They at least understood that there was little point in arguing with Mrs Black.

~~~~~

The preparations for the ball turned out to be all they could possibly hope for. Mrs Black once again split them up, so no sisters were paired, and suggested they all do each other’s hair, which was a novel experience for some. She had two maids, so they were not entirely on their own, but they mostly fended for themselves. Some, like Miss Blue, and to some people’s surprise, Miss Yellow, turned out to be highly skilled and in high demand. Mrs Black even got into the spirit of it a bit by fixing up Miss Blue’s hair, much to everyone’s surprise.

They arrived at the home of the Earl of Wrexham in good time and quite enjoyed the experience of simply waiting in line and seeing all the attendees. They mostly decided that Mrs Black was not quite such an ogre, especially when she made a few quite impertinent whispered comments about some of the feathers and similar accoutrements of the more ridiculous attendees. Some apparently had more money than taste.

They were allowed to go through the receiving line, and even met the earl and countess, which was a bit of a thrill all on its own. Most wondered just how many important people Mrs Black knew, and how she knew them. They all eventually concluded that their daughters had probably survived the school mostly intact.

Instructing them to be discreet, she led them through the ballroom, and into a door that was mostly hidden along a back wall. They found what appeared to be servants’ stairs which led up to a balcony above the ballroom. The edge was covered with a gauzy curtain that allowed them to see clearly, but since there was no lighting in the balcony itself, they were not visible from the ballroom. It was quite a clever arrangement.

The musicians started warming up, and Mrs Black continued what she had begun so many days earlier watching soldiers on the street.

“These are the cream of London society, but in essence they are little different from you. They have the money and status to think very well of themselves, but on average, they are no cleverer, or kinder, or more intelligent than you are. They are mostly better educated, but that is because they are wealthy, not because they are inherently superior.”

She omitted the fact that one of the students was vastly wealthy, and that her history suggested she was very-well educated, but still no more sensible than Lydia. She hoped the poor girl had turned the corner though. Miss Darcy’s experience in Ramsgate had put her in a mental box of her own making, and as far as Mrs Black was concerned, nothing beat being thrown around like a rag doll by an ogre to shake someone out of their doldrums.

“Here you will see the same thing you will see at any marriage mart—and there is very little point in pretending this is anything other than a market. Most of the unwed people here want to find a partner to spend their lives with. They all have some idea in their heads of what they want that partner to be. Some prefer pretty over clever, or the converse. Some need money, some are so rich they do not care, and some are so rich they need even more money because anything less would be an insult to their pride.”

They all nodded, though most of their attention was on the attendees.

Mrs Black said, “Here is another little rule of thumb for you. The typical man is quite average. ”

“Is that not a tautology?” Miss Red asked (naturally).

“What does that mean?” Miss Green asked, showing perhaps the first spark of curiosity Mary could remember.

“Circular reasoning. You say the same thing twice in different words. It is a logical fallacy, though sometimes useful for making a point or making something easy to remember, which is I presume, Mrs Black’s purpose.”

“Very good, Miss Red, and good for you in expanding your curiosity, Miss Green. You should remember that you were almost certainly born just as clever as any of your sisters, and if you are less educated than they are, it is something you can correct.”

Lydia was less impressed by that statement but at least nodded in acknowledgment.

“What I mean, is that if you take any group of men, perhaps a tenth of them are the best of men, and a tenth are the worst. The bottom tenth can ruin your life in minutes, which is why we have been studying them so intently this fortnight. The best of men are rare by definition and probably out of reach or actually undesirable for most of us.”

She glanced to ensure everyone’s rapt attention.

“Most of you will need to marry to live well, and most of you probably want to. There is nothing wrong with that. Since most of us are fairly average, we will find our husbands among the average. Some will be bold, some shy, some will be leaders, some followers. Tonight, I will try to teach you some of the subtle ways you can guess about a man’s character based on his deportment and demeanour, but I caution you not to read too much into it. For example, I know one of you has a guardian who gives offense as a first impression, but I suspect he is more shy than arrogant and is probably a good enough man underneath. Do not let your first impressions lead you astray. While you will end up with an average sort of man, it is better to have one on the high side of average than low.”

They all gave that advice some thought for a minute, and Mrs Black added, “Just to be certain, while rough manners do not mark someone as bad, neither do happy manners mark a man as good. The worst snakes practice amiability, manners, and flirtation to a fine degree. They use them as bait, so be careful you do not fall into their trap. Often, the most amiable seeming men are among the worst, but do not tar genuinely amiable men with the same brush.”

“How do we avoid it?” Miss Blue asked, and Elizabeth suspected she was remembering saying, "He is just what a young man ought to be—sensible, good-humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners! So much ease, with such perfect good breeding!"

Elizabeth did not really have an opinion on Mr Bingley, and would not for another week or two, but she was happy to see her elder sister at least trying to escape their mother’s shadow and circumstances.

“Time and observation. You can learn a lot about a man with how he acts over time. Pay more attention to how he treats others than how he treats you. A man who is cruel to servants or animals cannot be a good man. I would also be sceptical about anyone who allows bad things to happen around him that he could dissuade. Talk to him.”

“That seems sensible,” Jane said pensively, belatedly realising that Mr Bingley utterly failed that last test.

“In the end,” Mrs Black sighed resignedly, “you may need to fall back on another rule: Maybe means no . For myself, I would rather pass up the chance for a good man to avoid a bad one. There is always another good man in your future if you look hard enough, but once you are trapped with a bad one, it is all over. I know that sounds pessimistic and cynical, so take it with a grain of salt.”

The ladies were slightly downcast by that, so Mrs Black brightened and said, “Good lord, is that woman colourblind?”

~~~~~

The next hour went by pleasantly with Mrs Black pointing out ladies and gentlemen, describing how she interpreted their actions, and suggesting things she might do if she met them. She pointed out just how difficult it was for a shy man to ask a lady he was interested in to dance, then suggested several specific ways a woman might detect his interest if she were paying attention and subtly encourage him without being a flirt.

Conversely, she gave a few tricks for evading dancing with men they wanted to avoid without having to sit out the rest of the evening. There were a number of excuses one should keep handy, but she said that, in the end, if a truly disagreeable man asked, and they even suspected ill intent, to just stand firm and refuse. Better to miss a night of dancing than to encourage a rake.

Mrs Black’s ogres rather uncharacteristically brought in some tea and sat with the ladies for a half-hour making entirely pleasant and witty conversation. One was an expert on Shakespeare and challenged Mary’s understanding to the limit, while the other loved horses and spoke animatedly with half the ladies the whole time. It was obviously another lesson .

~~~~~

After tea, they resumed their observations at the railing, and Mrs Black was considering taking Jane and Mary down for the space of a dance, when she suddenly stood up straight and demonstrated the breadth of her language.

“Blood and thunder, what the infernal blazes is that blighted scoundrel doing here?” she snapped in the first sign of clear agitation, or in fact, anything short of complete serenity, that any of the ladies had ever seen. Even had her tone not been alarming, nobody had ever heard a lady say so many curse words in a row before.

She stared a moment, and finally said, “Zounds… He is planning to compromise her!”

With that, she turned and moved across to the door with astonishing speed, even for her, speaking over her shoulder. “You are in charge, Miss Blue. Do not leave this balcony for anything short of a fire.”

With that, she was gone and the door closed, so the ladies turned excitedly around to try to work out who the scoundrel was. They stared intently at the groups for some time, but nobody could quite make out who was trying to compromise whom.

In such a short time that she must have run breakneck down the stairs, they found Mrs Black entering the ballroom. She was dressed in a ballgown that matched the elegance of the settings, and her raven-black hair was tied up in an Apollo knot with ringlets that everyone (even Jane) envied more than a little.

She fit right in as if she were born to the first circles—aside from the fact that she was moving through the crowd like a horse at full gallop. How she avoided knocking anyone over was a mystery to everyone. It became clear she was headed for the far side of the ballroom, where they could barely see the dancers, let alone ascertain their intents.

They all gasped when she paused briefly beside a tall gentleman standing by the side, spoke what could not have been more than a half-dozen words to him, and dragged him into the dance with about as much subtlety as she used to toss her charges around the barn on Brutality Day.

Miss White and Miss Blue both gasped in shock, “Good Lord, that is—” but they both paused politely without finishing the sentence. They both realized they were about to break one of Mrs Black’s rules, so they shrugged and turned back to the railing.

A couple minutes later, they startled again as another dancer fell to the floor rather hard and lay on the ground gasping like a beached fish.

They could not hear anything when Mrs Black knelt down beside the man in apparent sympathy, looking more like a very concerned nurse than anything else. After she spoke to the poor fellow a bit, she stood abruptly, spoke to the man she had dragged into the melee less than three minutes earlier, and then disappeared entirely, leaving the tall man staring daggers at the man on the floor.

It was all quite mysterious, but when Mrs Black pulled a young lady from the dance and marched her over to an older man who seemed likely to be her guardian, they suspected they had seen the whole story.

The injured man was still moaning with what little breath he could muster and clutching his chest.

Miss Red said, “I would bet a month’s allowance that we just saw a practical demonstration of a palm on the solar plexus.”

“His foot does not look all that good either,” Miss Blue added.

They watched in wonder, their mind full of questions.

~~~~~

Fitzwilliam Darcy was rather uncharacteristically enjoying an evening at a ball, though whether it was for his own advancement or to please Mr Gardiner was not entirely certain.

He had spent most of his adult life feeling like a hunted animal, and he tried to avoid balls when he could, and hide out on the walls when he could not. Gardiner had turned that on his head, by suggesting any hunted animal would be better off finding a safe den to hide in than running from the hounds.

With that change in his perceptions, he had started a new tactic. He despised the term ‘wallflower’ since he had effectively been one most of his life, and they did not make a special derogatory word for him (though many probably did have lots of other words to say). He preferred to think of them as overlooked ladies . There were always a dozen or two who were overlooked for one reason or another (or no reason at all), so he just danced with them. None of them took it as a sign of anything other than politeness, and he found that, on average, they were better conversationalists than the husband-hunters.

He had just finished his third dance of the evening with Miss Alexandra Whitting, a cousin of one of his friends from Cambridge, and was sitting out one set, giving due consideration to whether he should supplement the evening with some of the earl’s famously lethal punch.

His ruminations were interrupted when a striking woman with raven-black hair, gorgeous olive skin, dark eyes, and a Spanish accent stopped and said a few words.

“Sir, I need your help, and I need it now ! Follow my lead!”

He was just about to give her a good chastisement, and probably would have, had she left him full control of his options. Unfortunately, she gave him the option to either go along or measure his length on the floor, because she took his arm and dragged him into the dance. He briefly worried it was an elaborate compromise attempt, but he somehow doubted it, since it would be a suicidal attempt at best.

For the next minute, he found himself being led through the dance, which was slightly unnerving, but also somewhat thrilling. The lady seemed more intent on other dancers than him, so he had the chance to examine her closely, and he liked what he saw very much.

She seemed tall, though careful examination showed her to be of average height, so he assumed there was something complicated about her gown that fooled the eye into thinking she was taller. He was not bothered by that, since men did the same sort of thing routinely (or worse). She had raven-black hair and olive skin. Since she spoke with what sounded like a Spanish or Italian accent (which was very attractive in its own right), he supposed she was of Mediterranean descent.

He was just admiring her face and figure, along with the way she danced, when a nearby man tripped over his own feet and went down like a falling tree. It was all quite confusing since his mystery lady was close to the bumbling fool and just barely managed to jump out of his way. It reminded him of the Bennet’s idiotic cousin at the Netherfield ball, although to be fair, at least the parson managed to stay on his feet.

The man who had fallen seemed to be even clumsier than he at first appeared because he was curled up in a ball, apparently unable to breathe properly. His mystery woman leaned down and spoke soothingly to the clumsy fool for a moment or two, then abruptly stood, returned, and spoke emphatically.

“Mr Darcy,” she began, which left him wondering how she knew him. “I happen to know that man on the floor is a Navy deserter named George Wickham. Desertion in time of war is a hanging offense. Can I trust you to see he gets returned to active service in a more… ah… reliable regiment… or faces the appropriate punishment. He is a vile man, and he should not be allowed back into society… ever!”

He stood stunned, and stared at his arch-nemesis, whom he had believe gone from his life forever.

“You may count on me, Miss…?” he asked.

She gave him what felt very much like a measuring look, as if deciding if he was up to the task. It seemed clear from the way Wickham was writhing around on the floor that she had hurt him somehow. He was impressed.

“Thank you,” she said, apparently ignoring his perhaps too- subtle request for her name.

“He has been the bane of my existence for some years. I have a cousin who is a colonel. He will do his duty to king and country.”

“I believe you. I must away,” she said emphatically.

“Might I beg an introduction, or at least your name, Miss? You know mine, and fair is fair.”

She hesitated a moment, then said, “Mrs Duff,” then moved away with unnerving though subtle speed to speak momentarily to a young debutant in a light pink ballgown.

After speaking for perhaps half a minute, the young lady excused herself from her partner, who was more fascinated with Wickham’s plight than his dance partner anyway. The pair then walked quickly but discreetly over to a man who looked old enough to be an uncle or grandfather.

Darcy surmised he was probably her guardian or chaperone, and not quite up to protecting her from the Wickhams of the world.

His cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared, so he was briefly distracted by telling him of Wickham’s presence and his promise to take care of the rogue. Fitzwilliam got an evil grin on his face, and since he had been somewhat disappointed by Mr Gardiner’s quick action, he grabbed a couple of junior officers. Once they had their orders, the men dragged the still struggling Wickham, who had cast up his accounts on the floor, and Fitzwilliam returned to his cousin.

“Say, Darcy, who was that virago? That was some smooth work. Palm in the solar plexus if I am not mistaken. Wickham is lucky she did not kill him.”

“I just met her and exchanged a few words.”

“Did any of those words include a name… a Miss?”

“Unfortunately for you, it is Mrs,” Darcy began, but then burst out laughing as a stray thought struck him.

“What is so funny? It is not as if I want to marry her. I do not think I could sleep at night after an argument with a woman like that. I take my life in my own hands often enough with the army.”

Darcy laughed a bit more, which annoyed the colonel no end—which just increased Darcy’s mirth.

“She did introduce herself eventually, and I would have some words with her so I must away.”

“What is so blasted funny?”

“Her name is Mrs Duff.”

The colonel scratched his head. “And that is funny how?”

“Unless I am mistaken, it is the anglicised version of the Gaelic Dubh?”

“I still fail to understand.”

“It means Black,” Darcy replied in booming laughter, then left his cousin laughing along with him as he went over to speak to the young lady and her guardian.

Darcy approached Wickham’s intended victim, quickly introduced himself, and got down to business.

“Is that card she handed you for the Cheapside Runners?”

“It is,” he said uncertainly. “What of it?”

“I just wish to assure you in the strongest possible terms that contacting them would be in your best interest. They have done me a very good turn.”

He handed the man his card. “Call on me or send round a note and we can speak in some detail. I must away.”

He had just seen the elusive Mrs Duff, who he assumed was the redoubtable Mrs Black, enter a servant’s door at the back of the ballroom, and he headed along to join her.

~~~~~

When the action seemed mostly over, with a couple of officers dragging away the man they assumed was Mrs Black’s miscreant, and her dance partner going over to speak to the lady who seemed likely to be the intended victim, they stepped back from the edge.

Jane said, “I believe we came within an inch of breaking Mrs Black’s anonymity taboo.”

Georgiana said, “I apologise for that.”

Mary said, “I doubt very much we are intended to keep it forever anyway. I strongly suspect Mrs Black will relax the restriction, at least among us, before long.”

“Why do you think that?” Miss Amber asked curiously.

“Because this particular group is different. Whatever she normally does, I think some of the rules will be relaxed for us.”

“Are you suggesting we introduce ourselves?” Miss White asked.

“Not really, but I doubt it would be—”

“Miss Red is correct,” Mrs Black said emphatically, having slipped in the door without anybody noticing.

“In what way?” Miss Amber asked.

“Several ways, actually. First off, I almost always relax the restriction among the students on the last few days, though my prohibition against telling outsiders without permission remains. By then, I know if you can be trusted or not, and the anonymity has already served its purpose. Everything I do is for a reason, including that.”

“That seems sensible,” Miss Blue replied. “I suppose that is like moving us from the dungeons to proper bed chambers?”

“Yes, among other things.”

Jane continued, “Making someone fail with the targets as well?”

“Everything.”

Miss White asked the operative question. “What other reason applies to this particular group?”

“Because this group is unique, and never to be repeated. Most of you already know what is unique about it, so let us just get on with it. I presume I need not make any of you swear on the Bible again?”

There were a lot of head shakes, and Miss White asked, “What is unique about it?”

“The biggest thing is that everyone else already knows each other, Miss White. They are all from the same town, and in fact, half of the class are sisters.”

To the surprised look of the young heiress, she continued. “Allow me to introduce Miss Darcy, formerly Miss White. Miss Darcy, starting on our left allow me to introduce the Misses Alicia and Jasmine Weatherby, Maria Lucas, then the Bennet sisters, Jane, Mary, Lydia, and Kitty.”

“What about Miss Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked. “I am thrilled to meet all of you, but I am particularly keen to meet her.”

Mary asked, “What do you know about her?”

“My brother wrote about all of you from Netherfield, but we spoke more about her than anyone else.”

Mary looked a bit suspiciously at Mrs Black, but she remained unflinching as she answered Georgiana.

“She spends most of her time in town, so she took the course years ago, Miss Darcy. You will meet her later tonight.”

Mary had been looking at Georgiana, and snapped her head back to Elizabeth, to find her not paying the slightest attention.

A knock on the door interrupted, and Mrs Black took a card from one of the ogres.

She whispered with him for a few minutes, and asked, “Miss Darcy. Is your brother absolutely trustworthy?”

“Yes! The best man I know! More trustworthy than me,” she replied somewhat morosely.

“None of that, young lady. You will have a clean slate after this course. I would hope that past mistakes can be relegated to the past, and any of you who were untrustworthy before will emerge with a more honourable bent after this fortnight.”

Mary smirked that she said that without looking at Lydia or Kitty.

Mrs Black said, “Tonight’s excitement has really put a spoke in the wheel of this class. That and the unusual relationship between most of you leads me to think I should reveal somewhat more than I ordinarily do. Need I be concerned about anyone spreading tales out of turn?”

Everyone emphatically assured her of their trustworthy nature.

Lydia even added, “If you spoke with Lizzy, I doubt you have a good opinion of mine or Kitty’s trustworthiness, but I promise on my life, we will respect your privacy.”

Mrs Black looked around at her charges for a few minutes, and then said, “Very well. I suppose rules are to be broken occasionally. We will want Miss Elizabeth in the discussion, and since I dragged Mr Darcy into this imbroglio, I suppose he may as well know. He is standing on the other side of this door, and I suspect his curiosity might lead him to do something typical for a man.”

“Is ‘typical for a man’ your synonym for ‘foolish’?” Mary asked impertinently, which earned her a laugh and shaken finger from Mrs Black.

She just turned to the ogre and whispered some instructions, then turned back to her charges.

“We will need Mr Darcy and Miss Elizabeth for this, and I have other business to attend first. Miss Bennet, can you get this rabble back to the house and fed? I will fetch the other parties and meet you back in the drawing room at precisely ten.”

“Of course, Mrs Black,” Jane replied.

They returned to the entrance, where they found the two carriages they’d arrived in, and a very smart looking chaise with room only for one. While Jane ushered the ladies into the other two, Mrs Black took the chaise and left without looking back.