Page 50 of The Twelve Days of Christmas

‘You shall each,’ intoned he, ‘as is typical for a country dance, be allocated Ones and Twos. Mrs Thorpe and I shall in this instance be Ones and, ah, your grace,’ bowed Mr Thorpe, ‘would you permit yourself and your lovely partner to act as our first Twos?’

Cordelia Sharpe fair simpered in her gown of burgundy bombazine as Sir Robert consented, and Maria barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Next to her, Rosalie sucked in her breath.

‘Ah, very good, very good. See then,’ continued Mr Thorpe, ‘there shall first be two notes from our piper, and we begin on the third. Ones clap –’ here the dancing master and his wife clapped – ‘we cross go below –’ here the couple demonstrated – ‘and Twos lead up. Your grace, if you would?’

Here the duke took Miss Sharpe’s hand and did as instructed, and watching the couple Maria narrowed her eyes.

Did not Miss Sharpe gaze at her partner in a manner far too intimate and did Sir Robert not then, in turn, surreptitiously wink at her?

She glanced at Rosalie to see if her sister had chanced to see the display, and by the expression writ upon her features it was clear she had.

Rosalie then looked questioningly down the line at their mother, who was watching the handsome couple, but with an aspect of such deep contemplation that Maria wondered at it.

The other couples were not paying the slightest bit of attention, however, for Mr Thorpe was already announcing his next instructions.

‘Ones perform a two-hand turn once and a half, then Twos clap, and cross go below as Ones lead up. Miss Falshaw, Mr Busgrove, if you will join the line so we might …?’

There was much kerfuffle then, for Nigel Busgrove was profuse in his agreements and so bumbled to the front, dragging poor Lucy inelegantly with him, who gave Louisa such a look of pained chagrin that Maria was put upon not to snort, and Bertram Sharpe – catching her eye – seemed ready to do the same.

‘That’s it, that’s it!’ cried Mr Thorpe. ‘Now we have our Twos two-hand turn one and a half, then Ones cross … Come, Sir Victor, Lady Marshchild, won’t you oblige? Excellent! Then go below as Twos lead up—’

It was clear that as each instruction was imparted a new couple should join the line, and this they did until all eleven pairs were joined in the dance.

In such a vast ballroom, the footsteps of two-and-twenty people created an echoing din, and Maria longed for Mr Denby to play so that the whole business did not seem quite so inelegant.

‘And to finish,’ said Mr Thorpe, looking pleased with the progress, ‘ones half figure eight up, then all face partners and perform four changes of rights and lefts.’

The entire party of twenty-two obliged (though some better than others), and satisfied, Mr Thorpe announced that it was time – at last – for the music to be introduced. ‘And remember,’ he said with a smile, ‘two notes from the tin whistle first, and our Ones clap on the third.’

Oh, did those first two notes bring such a thrill to Maria’s heart!

It had been, after all, some time since she had danced.

Indeed, Maria could not recall dancing after returning from Bath in the summer – the last opportunity she had had was at Lady Warwick’s soirée – and so (being assigned the number of One) Maria gave a hearty clap, and proceeded to cross below with Mr Sharpe.

The notes of Mr Denby’s tin whistle trilled light and clear, resulting in a charming melody.

How much easier it was to dance, with music to give one’s feet flight!

And while such intricate steps and turns might have seemed complicated to a novice dancer – certainly, Mr and Mrs Busgrove (being no less blundering than their son) appeared to take to it with some difficulty, though Sir Gregory Warwick and his wife (being such stalwarts of London society) accomplished the movements with ease – Maria found them no problem at all, and was pleasantly surprised to find Bertram Sharpe, too, a natural at the amusement, and she smiled at him widely.

‘You are an accomplished dancer, Mr Sharpe.’

‘I am happy you think so, Miss Maria – I do so love to dance.’

‘Then why is it,’ remarked she, ‘we did not see you at the assemblies in Bath, as your sister was this summer past?’

Mr Bertram Sharpe inclined his head. ‘Cordelia accompanied my elderly aunt there to take the waters, whilst my brothers and I were otherwise engaged at home. If I had known you were there, however, I might have been prevailed upon to make the journey.’

Maria smiled at the compliment as Lady Falshaw and the Earl of Starling crossed below.

‘And where is home, sir? Lord Heysten mentioned something about the north?’

‘Just so,’ came the jovial reply. ‘The Humber. My grandfather built up his fortune in land ownership across the region, and it has required careful supervision to sustain the profits. Though I enjoy society, as the eldest brother it is up to me to ensure our investments are managed wisely. And often that means forfeiting visits to Bath.’

‘It sounds awfully boring,’ Maria remarked, to which Mr Sharpe shouted out a laugh, and Maria thought then what a nice smile he had. Lovely straight teeth.

‘So it is, so it is! Which was why I was so gratified to be extended an invitation to your parents’ Twelfth Night Ball.’

‘And I am in turn gratified by your gratification! But what of your aunt? I hope you did not leave her all alone for Twelfth Night?’

‘Ah,’ said Mr Sharpe, his features dropping with a sorry sigh. ‘I’m afraid our dear aunt passed away the week after Michaelmas. Alas, the waters did nothing for her.’

‘Oh, Mr Sharpe. I am sorry.’

‘Please, do not concern yourself. She was happy to go, I dare say, being so very unwell. Most fed up with it all she was. ’Tis only a pity that Cordelia has been left without engagement.’

‘Sir?’

‘Well, Cordelia was our aunt’s companion.

My brothers and I – being men of business and so rarely from home – were unable to offer our sister a London season, or any of the fashionable entertainments that befitted her station.

It was our aunt, you see, who provided all that.

Indeed, Cordelia has been wholly spoilt. ’

‘What of your parents?’

‘Died some years ago. A carriage accident.’ Mr Sharpe waved Maria’s commiserations away.

‘But now our aunt has gone too and, well, Cordelia is quite determined to leave what she calls “the dreary north” and marry someone who can provide her with every luxury to which she has become accustomed. You see, I suppose, who she has her eye on?’

Maria glanced at Cordelia and Sir Robert. ‘I suspect your sister might be disappointed.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well, considering the duke has been flirting outrageously with me and my sisters, especially poor Rosalie –’ who was still mulishly looking at Miss Sharpe and Sir Robert, to the obvious confusion of her dancing partner – ‘I should warn her to be on her guard.’

Mr Sharpe looked surprised.

‘Is that so? Cordelia said that she and Morley had been thrown together quite a bit in Bath. In fact, she gave me the impression that her affections were reciprocated.’

At that moment Maria’s mother crossed below, and upon catching Bertram Sharpe’s words sucked in her breath.

‘ Maman? ’ asked Maria as the viscountess slipped into line beside her. ‘Is anything the matter?’

Viscountess Pépin took a moment to reply, before saying on a clap, ‘No, dearest. I have just realised something, that is all.’

‘Oh?’

But her mother was already passing by. Mr Sharpe cleared his throat.

‘Miss Maria, might I ask what, exactly, you meant by the term “flirting”?’

Maria coloured. She could not deny that Sir Robert had been perhaps too revealing of his time in Europe, his many escapades during the Grand Tour, and being a girl disinclined to be offended by anything Maria had greedily absorbed the duke’s wild stories.

Italian opera singers, Dutch models, French concubines!

Mayhap it had been inappropriate of her to listen to Sir Robert, to beg him to continue when he appeared to linger over details he professed were not for her delicate ears …

But that was truly the extent of it, and as Mr Sharpe led her upon a half figure eight up, Maria assured him as much.

Still, her dancing partner looked displeased.

‘And what of Miss Louisa? Miss Rosalie? Did the duke treat your sisters as he treated you?’

Mr Sharpe had lowered his voice, leant across the space of the line in a clear bid to keep the particulars unheard by the other dancers, and while one might consider such a frank conversation unwise when there were so many who might overhear them, Maria had never held any qualms about such things.

Since she and her sisters had been so misused by the duke, Maria found no reason to protect him, and so she replied without altering the tenor of her voice:

‘Louisa and I have discussed the matter, and come to the conclusion that Sir Robert treated us in much the same way. As for Rosalie … well, she will not speak to us about it at all, being so very upset by his shunning her these past few days.’

‘He shunned her?’

‘Indeed, he has shunned us all. He was amiable the one day, then cold the next. Neither one of us could understand it. But, returning to Rosalie,’ added Maria with a reassuring smile, ‘she is a romantic, that is all, and easily hurt. I do not believe anything more occurred between them than occurred between the duke and ourselves, and I do believe the matter will soon be entirely forgotten. Especially if your brother keeps reciting the Gothick melancholy of Mrs Radcliffe!’