Page 49 of The Twelve Days of Christmas

STAVE XI.

C?

E LEVEN L ADIES D ANCING

It was a custom upheld every year, that on the day preceding the Twelfth Night Ball, Merrywake’s dancing master, Mr Thorpe, would teach the guests of Wakely Hall a new country dance.

This year he had decided upon ‘The Midnight Ramble’ – an old but lively piece to be performed at midnight – which Maria Pépin thought an excellent idea, for she did so enjoy a spirited set at the peak hour of a ball.

Maria enjoyed any and all dances, whether they be a country, a cotillion or a reel, and endeavoured to participate in every single one of them, no matter how much her feet might hurt by the end of the night.

Indeed, she never tired of the London season and its many balls, nor the summers she spent in Bath where she attended each assembly listed on that city’s social calendar, and could be depended upon to make a jolly time of it.

Unfortunately, as had so often been the case, Maria had perhaps been a little too jolly on such occasions, and would frequently be required to leave early in the carriage, which meant that as a consequence her feet never hurt quite as much as she hoped they would.

Thankfully, no carriage would be called upon tomorrow evening for Maria would already be home, and so she was determined to have as much fun as possible, no matter what her mother might say, with blissfully aching feet to match!

Of course, such gaieties were somewhat diminished when the likes of Miss Cordelia Sharpe were in the vicinity.

Maria glared at the said Miss Sharpe from across the ballroom, where she was speaking with Sir Robert by the garlanded fireplace commandeering all that gentleman’s time (though the duke did not appear to mind one bit).

How dare her mother invite Cordelia Sharpe to stay at Wakely, especially after Maria told her what the little witch had done to Louisa at Lady Warwick’s Midsummer Soirée.

And Cordelia was a witch, Maria thought – vain, conceited, unapologetically mean – and a fortune hunter to boot.

The Sharpes were, after all, the poorer relations of Charles Heysten by way of his maternal grandmother, Georgiana Soppe, whose sister had scandalously married a man by the surname of Sharpe who came from new money rather than old.

(Maria found their whole family tree ridiculously complicated, made even more so by the arrival of the child, Faith, who – imagine!

– was none other than Charles Heysten’s illegitimate half-sister by a maid, if you please.) Cordelia was clearly intent on finding some way of gaining at least a portion of her cousin’s wealth ever since the old Lord Heysten died.

Certainly, that awful witch wasted no time prevaricating about the matter – only a few hours after the Sharpes arrived late yesterday afternoon, Cordelia had asked his lordship in a wounded manner as she won a trick at Whist why he had ignored her letters regarding an allowance.

That Cordelia should say such a thing so publicly was clearly a ploy to force Lord Heysten’s hand, and Maria had been gleeful when the ruse backfired – his lordship had sternly informed his cousin she had already benefited from a handsome settlement in a shew of goodwill, and if she were to continue in her harassments he would withdraw it forthwith.

This greatly esteemed him in Maria’s eyes.

When she told her sisters and mother of the exchange (for she had been one fourth of the Whist party, the other being the Earl of Starling, who had been staring at Cordelia all night in an embarrassingly besotted fashion), Louisa had been prevailed upon to confess that Lord Charles Heysten was not quite so boorish after all, to which even Charlotte agreed, much to the delighted shock of the viscountess.

Maria tweaked the puffed sleeves of her gown as she waited for Mr Thorpe to finish ruminating with the piper, the lately returned son of Wakely Hall’s cook, Mrs Denby.

It seemed to her the Sharpe brothers were cut from a different cloth than their sister.

They were deeply embarrassed to hear the exchange (for they had been in earshot at the next table) and apologised to their cousin profusely.

Maria glanced at Bertram Sharpe where he stood conversing with his two brothers, and her two younger sisters.

The viscountess had placed Mr Sharpe next to her at dinner that night (a ruse which Maria saw straight through, for it had been abundantly clear what her mother was about from the hopeful expression on her face), and the gentleman revealed in tones most sincere that he, Tarquin and Humphrey merely wished to strengthen the Sharpe–Heysten familial connections now that the barrier of old Lord Heysten and his objections had been removed, nothing more.

Indeed, said Mr Sharpe, he should be gratified Maria did not tar him with the same metaphorical brush as his shameful sister, and hoped some gentleman would take Cordelia off their hands as soon as possible.

At the memory Maria frowned. She glanced once again at Cordelia, standing close to Sir Robert in a manner a little too familiar.

It was clear to anybody who looked at them that Miss Sharpe had set her designs upon Sir Robert.

Five days ago Maria might have felt deeply resentful at such a prospect, but since the duke had maintained a coolly civil demeanour whenever they had by chance been thrown together of an evening, Maria did not now mind so very much.

Rudeness, after all, can serve to dampen one’s ardour.

There was a littleness to the man she had not seen before then, and though she herself once had designs on him, Maria had been thinking only of the prudence of the match.

Yes, she had been flattered by his (then) flirtatious manners and imagined herself to feel some glimmerings of affection for him, but after a few days of his shunning her Maria could safely say that while the Duke of Morley had imposed upon her, she was not injured.

Not like poor Rosalie, who had taken his spurning to heart.

Maria soon came to the conclusion he was just the sort of lout and cove Charlotte always said she despised, and if that were the case then Miss Sharpe and the duke appeared a perfectly suited match.

‘Come,’ the dancing master called, clapping his hands together. ‘Come, ladies and gentlemen – chuse your partners, and form your lines, if you please!’

There was much chatter and creaking of the floorboards as those gathered in the ballroom did as Mr Thorpe bade.

Eleven ladies there were including herself, together with eleven gentlemen which meant no man or woman should be without a partner.

Maria was glad of the fact, for it was always so awkward when a person should be forced to observe from the periphery of the dance floor like a wallflower, as Charlotte often did.

How frustrating it was, to always see her sister standing on the sidelines, though ’twas true it was of her own doing.

At least she could not do the same now – Charlotte had chosen to accompany Lord Heysten, Miss Faith Heysten, Nicolas, Juliette and their father to Wakely Church, where at that precise moment a rehearsal ceremony between Miss Partridge and Reverend Soppe was being performed, which Charlotte declared was a much better use of her time than spending the afternoon getting her feet stepped upon.

Maria on the other hand never thought dancing a waste of time, nor was she ever (as one can easily suppose) in want of a partner to dance with, and Bertram Sharpe made no hesitation in approaching her now.

With a smile and bow he asked if she might take to the floor, for his brothers had already partnered her sisters, a request Maria graciously accepted.

As they formed their lines, Maria looked at Humphrey Sharpe and Louisa, and Tarquin Sharpe and Rosalie.

These gentlemen, too, she thought, suited her sisters admirably well.

Louisa had already been impressed by her dancing partner’s enthusiasm for last night’s goose dinner, even going so far as to challenge the gentlemen to a competition to see how many mince pies one could consume in the space of a minute (the answer was ten, and Humphrey Sharpe the victor), and Rosalie – though still in somewhat mournful spirits – did not object when Mr Tarquin read aloud from his own dog-eared copy of the Romance of the Forest (she was, by the end of Chapter 3 , looking rather moved).

And while not one of the Sharpe brothers could be deemed particularly handsome (Cordelia alone, it seemed, had taken all the Sharpe good looks for herself), all three were blessed with good manners, breeding, sense and principles, which – quite frankly – there was a lot to be said for.

Adequate money, too (though not near as much as the Duke of Morley, which was a shame).

If the Sharpe brothers were willing to offer for their hands and overlook each of their faults so bemoaned by their mother, then Maria supposed she and her sisters could not do better.

She sidled a glance at the viscountess on the arm of Monsieur Beno?t.

Perhaps their Maman had not been completely erroneous in her well-meaning machinations …

not that Maria would allow her to know it.

One must maintain at least a modicum of pride.

‘Now then,’ announced Mr Thorpe, interrupting her musings.

‘“The Midnight Ramble” is a Duple Minor dance – the minor set lasts thirty-two bars and is played in the key of D major. The dance contains the following movements: hand turn, lead, half figure eight, rights and lefts, cross go below. Mrs Thorpe and I shall demonstrate the first steps.’

Mrs Cecily Thorpe, the Pépin sisters’ former governess, took her husband’s proffered hand.