When The Spirit Moves You

by Thomas DePrima

  "Yes, I noticed earlier."

  "It seemed like it would never stop."

  "It always stops, eventually."

  "I hope that Gerald makes it through," Amelia remarked, turning towards Anne.

  "I prefer that he remain wherever he is until it's safe to travel. We've already seen the fury that this storm is capable of wielding against unwary travelers. It's only a party, after all. We can always reschedule the formal announcement, if necessary."

  "I suppose."

  "How are you feeling tonight? Are you quite recovered?"

  "Yes, I believe so. I still feel a bit dizzy at times, but Doctor Rogers says that it should clear up over the next few days."

  "Perhaps you and the others should avoid dancing tonight?"

  "Perhaps. I'll see how I feel once we're in the ballroom."

  "At least avoid any dances that require precise, coordinated movements, like the Quadrille. Stay with the waltzes, where you'll have someone to hold onto, should you become unsteady."

  "That's probably what I'll do," Amelia said, relieved that she now had an excuse. She had been dreading the evening's festivities because, although she knew a few names of the period dances, she had no knowledge of the specific movements. "Are you happy, Anne?"

  "Happy?"

  "About your betrothal and pending marriage?"

  Anne smiled and said, "Deliriously. Gerald is a wonderful man. It's funny; when I first met him I thought he was a bit too cold and arrogant to suit me, but then I discovered that it was simply a sham. Gerald hides his true feelings of love and compassion behind a showy misrepresentation created only to impress his father and business associates. You'll see what I mean when you meet him. You've always been so good at seeing through the shells that people erect around themselves. I know that you'll love him every bit as much as I do. Jeremy and I have been fortunate to have a father that required no such phony pretenses. We can be who we are at all times."

  "I've already noticed that your brother is quite candid."

  Anne smiled and said, "Around people that he likes— and trusts."

  The clock on the mantle had just begun to signal eight o'clock when the men appeared at the parlor entrance to escort the women to the ballroom. They had heard the musicians tuning up, and that had been their cue to get ready. Just as for supper, everyone paired up to enter the ballroom in procession. Jeremy extended his elbow for Amelia, and once again she smiled and put her arm through his so he could escort her to a position in line behind his father and Anne. Since the number of dance participants was so limited this evening, no dance cards were given to the ladies or gentlemen. It was generally expected, although not required, that ladies would dance their first dance with their escort, and thereafter were free to accept offers from whoever made them, as long as they had been properly introduced.

  As they entered the ballroom, the entire procession promenaded quickly around the room in 2/4 time, in what was known as the Grand March, then separated into small social groups around the dance floor's periphery. The Quadrille, a dignified and stately dance that was the forerunner of square dancing, was almost always the first dance at any ball, and the married couples immediately assembled to weave their way around the dance floor with practiced ease. Amelia, watching from the sidelines, was relieved that no one had invited her to participate in this opening ritual. Although it looked vaguely familiar, she didn't think that she could have kept up with the other dancers.

  The first selection of music to be played following the Quadrille was a slow waltz, and after Amelia watched the first couples begin to dance, she decided that no special steps were being used. When Jeremy approached her and requested her first dance, she knew that she couldn't refuse her escort without good reason, so she smiled, swallowed, and took his arm so that he could lead her to the floor.

  Jeremy was such an excellent dancer that she was quickly made at ease as he led her around the dance floor. She was pleasantly surprised that she found it so easy to keep up with him. Of course she had been dancing since elementary school, but only a small percentage of the dances that she'd had with male partners had been slow dances, and the slow dances of the early 21st century, where the males basically just shuffled their feet while holding their partner tightly against them on an overcrowded dance floor, were nothing like the ballroom waltzes of the late 19th century.

  When the song ended, Jeremy complimented her by telling her that she was extremely light on her feet and a delight to dance with. She responded by telling him that she had enjoyed the dance and that he was a wonderful dancer. Perhaps that was a bit too forward, because rather than escorting her back to her group, he remained on the dance floor to talk with her. When the band began the next song, he again put up his arms for her, and they danced once more. At the end of that song, he still seemed reluctant to escort her back, but his friend, Donald Blaisdell, interrupted them.

  "Excuse me old man, but you can't monopolize the prettiest girl here by isolating her out here on the dance floor," Donald said, fixing his intense brown eyes upon Amelia's face. "The rest of us would like an opportunity to dance with Miss Turner as well."

  Surprised to hear herself described that way, Amelia blushed and looked down at the floor. In recent years she had become accustomed to seeing the boys compete mainly for a chance to be with Renee, now Roberta, before settling for Megan, herself, or Erin, in that order.

  "Miss Turner," Donald said, "may I have the pleasure of the next dance?"

  "Yes, Mr. Blaisdell. I would be delighted," Amelia heard herself say.

  Donald beamed, ignoring the look of irritation on Jeremy's face as he raised his left arm in preparation for the dance. As the song began to play, Amelia gave Jeremy a 'sorry it's not you' look that Donald couldn't see as he began to lead her around the floor. Harry Millar reached her before Jeremy when the song was over, so she danced next with him, but Jeremy beat Donald to her following that one. When the fourth dance had ended, she was winded and said that she needed to rest, refusing both Donald and Harry's requests. Jeremy escorted her back to her group and then left to rejoin his friends.

  "Amelia, you looked so wonderful out there," Roberta said. "I haven't had the courage to try it. Charles has asked me twice already but I told him that I was still digesting my meal."

  "Oh Roberta, it's so easy. You just have to follow where the boys lead. They're just using the old familiar three-step— 'Big Step, Little Step, Step in Place.' Give it a try, it's fun. Besides, I can't dance every dance with the boys, I need some help."

  While they talked, Charles Parker approached. Although Amelia knew Roberta was dying to try it, she again hesitated when Charles asked her to dance. Amelia took matters into her own hands by pushing Roberta in the small of her back, causing her to stumble forward a couple of steps until her upraised hands came into contact with Charles' chest.

  "Why Mr. Parker, she'd love to dance with you," Amelia said.

  Smiling widely, Charles extended his elbow, and Roberta slipped her arm into his; but as he led her out onto the floor, she gave Amelia an annoyed look that Charles couldn't see. While there may have been a misstep or two on her part as they first paired, in no time she was dancing like she was born to it. Once Martha and Elizabeth saw Roberta dancing, they couldn't wait to try it themselves. Tad came over and asked Martha for the pleasure of her company on the dance floor, while Donald approached Elizabeth. Both accepted and proceeded onto the floor with their partners.

  Anne's cousins and other friends received a share of the dance invitations, but Amelia and her friends seemed to be the recipients of considerably more attention, with Amelia spending most of the evening dancing with Jeremy. Once, when his father cut in, she had an opportunity for another close examination of the future spectre, but as the dance ended, Jeremy was there to quickly reclaim her for the next dance.

  By the end of the evening, Amelia was exhausted. It seemed as though she hadn't stopped dancing for a moment. When the musicians played their eightee
nth and last song of the evening, she was both glad that it was over, and sorry to see it end.

  Amelia's feet were aching as the girls climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, and it felt so good when Bitsy removed her shoes and clothes. She wanted to relax in just her nightgown and sleeping stays, but she was restless and walked around the bedroom for quite some time after Bitsy left. She knew they had to find a way to return to their own time, but conflicts welling up from within were causing great agitation. Jeremy had stirred something deep within her, and her desire to remain here was now at odds with her need to leave. When she felt that she could no longer stand up, she slipped beneath the covers and was almost instantly asleep.

  In slumber, Amelia dreamed of dancing with Jeremy in an empty ballroom, while musical instruments played themselves. As the last dance ended, he pulled her close with his strong arms and kissed her fervently. She relinquished all the false inhibitions that she had adopted for the 1880's, and returned his kiss. Then he bent, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her to his bedroom.

  As Jeremy's bedroom door closed, Amelia awoke with a start. It was morning and the sun was peeking through the narrow gap where the curtains met. She rubbed her eyes to clear the sleep, then rose to open the curtains fully.

  It was such a marvelous change from the previous dreary day. The sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky, its rays highlighting the pristine white softness of the snow-clad landscape. She felt wonderful, and didn't wait for Bitsy to come turn up the gas in the bathroom to heat the water for her bath. While the water heated she performed her toilet, sucking in her breath sharply as she sat down on an ice-cold seat. She heard Bitsy come in, and when she returned to the bedroom, the fireplace was glowing with the warmth of a new fire. Standing in front of the roaring blaze, she raised her nightgown to her waist to warm her frozen posterior.

  When it felt like she was going to toast to a golden brown if she stood there much longer, she dropped her nightgown back into place and walked to her dressing table. After examining her face in the mirror, she plucked a few stray hairs from her too-wide eyebrows as she idly wondered when women had first started to sculpt their eyebrows or draw them as narrow slits.

  She allowed sufficient time for the water heater to perform its task, then returned to the bathroom and filled the tub. Steam, rising from the warm water, again fogged the mirror and coated everything else in the room with a light mist of water vapor. With a bit of difficulty, she managed to remove her sleeping corset. As it had yesterday, the ice-cold cast iron of the tub immediately absorbed the heat of the water to a point where she could enter almost immediately. Climbing into the tub she relaxed and thought how there's nothing quite like a nice hot bath on a cold morning. She was able to temporarily forget all her cares.

  After first relaxing for a while to simply enjoy the soak, she washed her body, examining herself for any imperfections as she worked. She already knew that her legs had never been shaved, but she discovered a couple of moles that she hadn't been aware of. Other than that, it was an attractive body. She decided, farcically, that if your consciousness had to be unceremoniously ripped from your body, dragged a century back through time, and shoved into the body of a deceased girl, then it was at least partial compensation to be bonded with one that was so attractive.

  Amelia made the decision to get out rather than refreshing the bath with additional hot water when it began to chill. Patting herself dry with one of the coarse towels, she returned to her bedroom and stepped into clean underwear before pulling the sash cord. As she waited for one of the servants to arrive, she stood in front of the fireplace to bask in its wonderful warmth and think about the day ahead.

  Bitsy arrived shortly and laced her into her corset, lacing her down extra tightly to avoid a repeat of yesterday. As Bitsy applied the numerous petticoats, Amelia continued to think about the day ahead. She knew that she should only be thinking about finding a way home, but discovered that most of her immediate thoughts centered on whether Jeremy would be at breakfast today. Retrieving Amelia's selected gown from the chifforobe, Bitsy lowered it over her upraised arms. It was a marvelous creation of dark brown jacquard silk, contrasted with plain, stiff, heavy brown silk. The underskirt of both fabrics was fully gathered and pleated, and an apron overskirt of jacquard silk dipped across the front, ending in a large bustle in the back. The bodice was tailored with plain brown silk at the bust; and the upper sleeves had been fashionably designed with a sweet 'pouf.'

  Bitsy immediately hurried off to help another of the girls as soon as she had finished, while Amelia sat down to brush out her hair. She didn't spend a lot of time trying to fix it, since it would be easier for one of the others to do it. Before she was finished, she heard a knock at her door and a query from Martha. Taking the brush from Amelia's hand after being invited in, Martha began to work on Amelia's hair, talking as she worked.

  "Amelia, wasn't last night wonderful? Tad asked me to dance eight times. He practically ignored everyone else. It was wonderful. He's so strong and handsome. I blushed every time he looked at me."

  "Yes. I saw the way that he was looking at you, especially when you weren't watching. But don't let him think that you're easy. Make him work at it a bit."

  "Oh, you're one to talk. You practically tripped over yourself getting to Jeremy all night."

  "I'm sure that I don't know what you mean," Amelia said, very self-righteously. "I behaved like a lady at all times."

  "Amelia Turner, you know very well what I mean. And Jeremy Westfield knows what you mean. He looks at you like it's dinner time for a starving man, and you're the main course."

  "I can't help how he looks at me—" Amelia said virtuously. Then added unashamedly, "but I do have to admit that it excites me."

  Both girls started giggling, but a knock at the door interrupted their silliness.

  "Come in," Amelia said as they adopted staid facial expressions.

  Elizabeth entered the room at the invitation, but stopped when she saw how closely the two girls seemed to be watching her. "What?" she said.

  "We were just wondering where you've hidden Donald," Amelia remarked. "Is that just your bustle back there?"

  Elizabeth's mouth dropped and her face took on a look of complete indignation. Martha and Amelia both started giggling anew.

  "That's a fine way to greet me in the morning," Elizabeth said. "I should leave and go to Roberta's room where I might get a little more respect."

  "Better knock first to make sure that Charles isn't in there," Martha said.

  All three started laughing with that, and were still giggling when Roberta came in.

  "What's going on in here?" Roberta asked. "I heard you laughing from all the way down the hall."

  Walking over to her, Elizabeth slapped lightly against the empty area beneath her bustle. "Nope, Charles isn't here. I guess it's safe to talk."

  Roberta just stood with her mouth agape. "Is that what you think? That I slept with Charles last night?"

  "No, dear," Amelia said. "We're just teasing each other. We're just having a little bit of fun after enjoying a wonderful evening."

  "Well, I think that you should all be ashamed of yourselves. Imagine, thinking that Charles would be under my bustle. I'm no bigger back there than any of you. Besides," she said grinning, "he's much too tall to fit under there." She smiled, and they all started giggling.

  The girls spent the next half-hour brushing, combing, straightening, and primping. And when they'd enhanced their appearance as much as possible, they left Amelia's bedroom to walk to the dining room for breakfast. At the bottom of the majestic stairway, they were mildly surprised when the boys suddenly emerged from the front parlor. They had apparently been waiting there. The girls smiled, took the proffered arms, and allowed the boys to escort them to the dining room. Amelia supposed that the boys had waited for them to come down to ensure that the girls didn't sit together as a group, which would have made it difficult for the boys to intersperse themselves in th
eir company, but she couldn't help wondering how long they had been waiting for them to appear. After pairing up, they had one too many boys, so both Tad and Harry escorted Martha.

  When Anne and her cousins entered the dining room, they saw the four girls surrounded by the five boys. Anne looked decidedly amused, but Amelia thought that her cousins appeared to be a bit miffed. She wondered what would have happened if the others had come down first. Would any of the boys still have been waiting for them?

  After eating a hardy breakfast, the boys excused themselves and left to make their preparations for working outside. They were going to try to dig the household out of its snowbound condition today. The women watched from the music room, as they had done yesterday, giggling and sometimes laughing when the boys slipped or tripped in their battle with almost four feet of snow. Occasionally, the boys would stop for a few minutes and trade snowballs, until Mr. Westfield scolded them. He didn't want them using up their energy uselessly. Once the work was done, they would be free to play as hard and long as they desired. The work parties concentrated first on clearing a path just wide enough for a horse, down the center of the driveway.

  It took all morning for the boys, working in conjunction with the stable hands, to clear a two foot wide path down to the front gate. When they came in at noon to have lunch, they were overheated from their exertions, but faces and extremities needed warming up. Hot cocoa had been brought out to them twice during their morning's work, and lots of soup and hot beverages had been prepared by the kitchen staff for lunch. In spite of being a little tired, the boys were in obvious good spirits.

  After their meal, the boys and estate employees all returned to their task. A horse drawn snowplow, fashioned mostly from wood, was used to widen the path they had made. The snow was too deep to push back in one pass, so the plow was adjusted to only push back the top quarter, and was lowered on successive trips. It took a number of passes to clear the driveway down to the gravel base, but the horse was doing most of the work now. After the first horse had widened the path to about six feet, a fresh, tandem pair was employed. Within an hour, the driveway was completely cleared to its full width, and perhaps a little more. The boys had meanwhile started to clear a path on the road in front of the estate. By nightfall the road was open wide enough for two carriages to pass anywhere between both side boundaries of the Westfield property. It was anybody's guess when the rest of the local road system might be cleared.