He gazed at her across the table. She was seated next to that young curate, Mr. Hollingson. The Reverend had only good things to say of the young man and yet, Connie could not help but be jealous of his proximity to Miss Wentworth and, as Connie observed further, his apparent intimacy with the lady. They were leaning close to each other, engaged in a private conversation. Whatever the young man had said brought a smile to her face. Connie tried to stop the wave of possessiveness and jealousy that overtook him at the sight. He had made his decision yesterday. He was not going to kiss her. Now he must abide by it. He must allow Miss Wentworth her happiness, even if it did not include him.
Connie had almost stilled his jealousy when he caught Miss Wentworth's name spoken in hushed tones on the lips of the lady next to him. His mother and the widow Hancock had their heads together and were smiling thoughtfully in the direction Connie himself had been looking: at Miss Wentworth and Mr. Hollingson.
“... Wentworth, she could do much worse than that young man,” Mrs. Hancock was saying to Mrs. Croft. “He has great prospects, you know. And he's made himself quite beloved in that little hamlet.”
Mrs. Croft nodded along. “Indeed, the Reverend is grooming him to take over the rectory here one day. If he ever decides to retire.”
“I am sure he will not do so for a few years, at least, Mrs. Croft. We do love our rector so.”
“And he loves you all. Besides, I could never bear to have him on my hands all the time. He must have some employment!” The two women laughed together.
“The doctor has said nothing about a proposal, so we may be a bit premature in our matchmaking,” Mrs. Hancock cautioned.
“But they do seem partial to each other,” Mrs. Croft looked again in the direction of the young couple. Connie looked too and his jealousy rose again.
“Oh, I do hope there will soon be a wedding in Milverton!”
Connie felt suddenly bereft. It seemed a settled thing that Sophy would marry the curate. The man had good prospects and a stable home. Even the Crofts – his own parents – loved Mr. Hollingson as another son. And Miss Wentworth. He could not deny the reaction he himself had witnessed in her private conversation with the man. Connie also could not deny his own reaction. Jealousy. It was going to be a long evening.
Chapter XV
“A dance!” Mrs. Hancock exclaimed. “What a brilliant idea, Margaret.” Sophy had to pinch her lips together to keep from laughing aloud. If Margaret Hancock had proposed the idea of an impromptu dance, Sophy would eat her bonnet. But from the blush of pleasure that arose on the girl's face, Sophy saw that she would not protest too loudly at her mother's suggestion.
Indeed, the entire company entered enthusiastically into the idea. They had finished dinner almost an hour ago and had since been sitting in the parlor talking together. Sophy had felt the party winding down like a clock. But Mrs. Hancock's suggestion had energized them all.
“An excellent idea, Mrs. Hancock!” Mrs. Croft rose excitedly from her seat. The two ladies began to direct the young men in the removal of furniture and carpets to create an adequate space for dancing.
“But mother,” Captain Croft asked as he carried a chair to the side of the room, “who shall provide our music?”
Mrs. Hancock spoke from her supervisory position by the door, “But of course, I shall, Captain Croft. I am too old for dancing.”
“Nonsense!” The captain protested. “You shall be my first partner!”
“No, no, sir,” the widow answered, laughing. “I shall play the piano. You must dance with one of the younger ladies. One of them shall make you a much better match than I.”
Sophy had to bite her lips again to keep from laughing aloud. Mrs. Hancock was not being very subtle with her hints. Clearly, she had come to dinner this evening prepared to propose a dance. And to put her daughters forward as much as possible. Sophy could not fault her for taking advantage of a party replete with no less than two eligible gentlemen who might be willing to carry off one or both of her daughters. She was not sure how the men would react to the widow's plan.
As she moved to help Edward roll up the carpet, Sophy looked at the two gentlemen in question. She could not imagine either one of them with the shy Hancock sisters. How would Vanessa or Margaret ever survive on board a ship with Captain Croft? Neither seemed the sort of woman to enjoy a calm cruise, much less a year or more at sea in all conditions. Nor yet did either girl seem like the sort to make a rector's wife. Sophy wondered how much they could know about the practical side of caring for people.
By the time the carpet was rolled up and against the wall, Mrs. Hancock was playing runs of notes up and down the piano, whether to warm up her fingers or to impress her audience, Sophy could not tell. After a pause, the lady started into a sprightly dance tune.
The men quickly chose partners. Captain Croft could hardly help but choose one of her daughters after Mrs. Hancock had thrown them in his way. He paired off with the younger daughter, Vanessa, and took up his position to wait for the other couples. Edward asked the older Miss Hancock and seemed pleased to escort the comely young lady to the floor. It struck Sophy quite forcefully that Edward was almost a man. He would soon be thinking seriously of courting. Freddy, however, could not be serious if his life depended on it. He strode across the floor to Mrs. Croft and bowed elaborately. With some small protest about her age – a protest soundly refuted by the entire company – Mrs. Croft and Freddy proceeded to the floor.
Sophy expected Mr. Hollingson to ask her at any moment. And yet bar after bar of music passed and he did not move from his position along the wall. When it was clear that Sophy and Mr. Hollingson would not be joining them, the couples finally began dancing.
Sophy noticed the older people were looking anxiously around at Mr. Hollingson, clearly wondering what was happening. Sophy wondered the same thing. A blush rose to her cheeks as she felt everyone's eyes upon her. Why was Mr. Hollingson hanging back at the wall like that? Everyone expected that he would dance with her. It was embarrassing to be left all alone in such a small party. Sophy, usually so resourceful, did not know what she could do. And so she waited, her blush growing ever deeper as the couples twirled around in front of her.
After long, agonizing minutes, the music finally stopped. The couples separated, laughing with the exhilaration of movement. And yet, Sophy could feel their sideways looks at her.
Reverend Croft called out to Mr. Hollingson, “Joshua, why did you not ask Sophy to dance?”
Sophy looked expectantly at the curate, waiting for an answer. He looked entirely uncomfortable at being called out like this in front of everyone.
“Pardon me, sir, but I do not dance.”
Didn't dance? Sophy thought. But why had he not said something before they had started dancing? Why had he not said something to her while the rest were dancing? Sophy did not understand what Mr. Hollingson was thinking.
Reverend Croft guffawed. “Nonsense, my boy! Of course you dance!” The rest of the company laughed, too. Mr. Hollingson colored deeply and seemed to shrink into the wall.
“No, sir,” the curate replied. “I do not dance.”
Here was a puzzle the Reverend must now solve. “Do you mean you will not dance on principle?”
“No, sir.” All eyes were on Mr. Hollingson.
“Well, what then? What could keep you from enjoying a dance with this fine young woman?”
Mr. Hollingson looked like he wanted to run out the door. Sophy was sympathetic to his plight, but she also wanted answers as to why the man who had said he loved her would not dance with her. She waited.
“Well... well,” Mr. Hollingson stuttered. “I... I do not dance...because... because I cannot.” The last came out in a whisper. Sophy hardly caught his words. Had he said that he could not dance? She was ready to laugh with relief.
“Cannot dance?” Mrs. Croft said in disbelief. “Well, that explains it all!” The whole company laughed.
Reverend Croft stepped toward the you
ng man and clapped him on the back, laughing all the time. “My boy! That is no problem at all. Why, I am sure we may teach you tonight. What do you say, Miss Wentworth? Would you be willing to help this poor young man?”
Sophy smiled at them. She felt light now that she knew Mr. Hollingson had not rejected her. No, it was only that he did not know how to dance. She looked at him now. He smiled at her shyly. “Yes, I would be happy to help teach Mr. Hollingson how to dance.”
“Then it is settled!” The Reverend declared. “Mrs. Hancock, some music please.”
Over the next half hour, they taught the young curate the steps for many different dances. They were a merry party, each one taking an interest in Mr. Hollingson's education. Even the shy young girls seemed to enjoy their part in helping.
In time, the curate was spinning and leaping as if he had been dancing all his life. Sophy was pleased to see him smiling and so evidently enjoying himself. When he had learned the steps, Mr. Hollingson made an elaborate show of asking her to dance.
“Miss Wentworth,” he bowed low before her, “may I have this dance?”
Sophy could not stifle her unladylike grin. She curtseyed back to him. “Mr. Hollingson, I am glad to accept.”
Their conversation was limited while they danced, as the curate still needed to concentrate on his steps. Sophy was impressed with his quickness of learning and the ease with which he moved around the floor.
“Mr. Hollingson, I must say that you have learned the steps faster than anyone I know. It is quite impressive.” Her eyes flashed with humor.
“Why thank you, Miss Wentworth. I had a particular interest in doing so.” He looked at her intently. Sophy's heart raced as they moved away from each other, following the steps of the dance. She could feel her cheeks heating up. She had not seen Mr. Hollingson in many days and had forgotten what it was like to be in the presence of a man she knew loved her. As they danced, the memory of their embrace that afternoon in his cottage was recalled to her mind. She felt shy of him and yet ready to speak of more significant things.
As the dance brought them back together, Mr. Hollingson spoke to her again. “Miss Wentworth, I hope that you will forgive my earlier neglect. I did not mean it as a reflection on you. Or on how I feel about you.” The last was almost whispered. His words shivered up her spine. She could find no words to answer, only a look that she hoped spoke of her desire that he should know he was forgiven. His answering gaze held her rapt, even as the dance finished and they parted.
* * *
Connie could feel the blood pounding in his veins. It kept him from relaxing into his chair as his mother beside him was doing in hers. Instead, he leaned forward, clenching his hands together until his knuckles turned white. His leg moved up and down with extra energy. Calm yourself, Conrad, he thought. He must get his anger under control.
But each time he looked at Miss Wentworth dancing with the curate, it all bubbled up again. Dinner had been bad enough, watching the two lean together and share intimacies he knew nothing of. When the curate had refused to dance, Connie had thought maybe he had a chance of dominating her time this evening. But no, the man had to go and admit that he could not dance at all! He had made himself a project. And Connie knew that ladies could not resist a project.
Oh, he knew the curate's actions were not deliberate. But the man had the damnedest way of doing everything right. Connie had only ever wished for that kind of luck. And he wished most heartily for it now. For ever since the man had declared that he could not dance, all the attention had been on teaching him how.
What a spoiled child I am, Connie thought, laughing angrily at himself. Do I fall to pieces when the attention is no longer on me? Only yesterday I longed for an escape and now here I am, feeling neglected because the women are paying more attention to Mr. Hollingson. If Connie was truthful with himself, it was only one woman from whom he desired attention.
And at the moment that woman was gazing into the eyes of that damned young man. Connie clenched his teeth as he watched them. They moved together quite naturally. Mr. Hollingson had learned the steps well in such a short time. But that didn't make Connie any more comfortable with the idea that the man was touching Miss Wentworth and he was not.
Just as he was about to burst, the music ended and the dancers bowed to each other. Connie sat, waiting for another agonizing set in which he would watch another man enjoy conversation and dancing with the most brilliant woman in the room.
“I feel ready to dance again,” Mrs. Croft declared. She had sat out the last dance and had left Connie without a partner. “Let us switch partners, my dears,” Mrs. Croft suggested. “I should like to try our dear Mr. Hollingson, if I may be allowed?” The curate bowed to her with alacrity and they took their places on the floor.
Connie sent up a blessing for his dear mama as he swooped in to claim Miss Wentworth.
“Miss Wentworth,” he bowed. When he looked up, she appeared startled. “Have I done something to startle you?”
“It is only that you appeared before me like a whirlwind, captain. I hardly knew what had happened.” They smiled at each other.
“Will you honor me with this dance? I have watched you this long time with Mr. Hollingson and I wonder if you might teach me to dance as well as that.” Connie saw that he had made her blush. She smiled prettily.
“You do me too much credit, captain. And anyway, I have observed your dancing and I believe you to be quite the most elegant man in the room. There is nothing I should be able to teach you.”
“A high compliment, indeed.” Connie's eyes flashed with fun. It was so easy to be with her. He had already forgotten the anger that had been coiling within him only moments ago.
“I would not have offered the compliment had it not been well-deserved.” The dance took them away from each other for a moment, but she was still laughing when they came together again. Connie could not help but smile.
The heat of Miss Wentworth's hand as she placed it in his own suddenly recalled the nearness of yesterday. Connie's expression changed instantly. He squeezed Miss Wentworth's hand hard enough that she looked quickly up into his face. Connie wondered what she saw there. Dare he hope that she remembered what had passed yesterday? Dare he hope that she could see it had not been a mistake? A thousand questions flew through his mind until, as he had also done yesterday, Connie was recalled to the fact that this could not happen. As much as he wanted to know Miss Wentworth more, to declare himself infatuated with her, as much as he wanted that, he could not have it. He was leaving soon and, besides, now he knew that she had a stable prospect in Mr. Hollingson. He could not upset that on a silly whim, a desire he did not know if she returned.
As quickly as it had come, Connie forced his expression to disappear. In its place, he put a smile, one that he hoped conveyed friendship and not something more of the turmoil he felt roiling inside of him. He did not want to hurt this wonderful woman.
Connie looked down at Miss Wentworth and smiled. “You look lovely this evening, Miss Wentworth. Blue perfectly becomes you.”
“Thank you, captain.” Miss Wentworth was blushing furiously. Connie realized that she was not used to being noticed in that way, but he was glad he had told her. She did look lovely. He could not remember a woman he thought looked more beautiful than Miss Wentworth did tonight.
Each time the dance brought them together again, Connie tried to imprint her image on his mind. The grace of her movements as she performed the steps of the dance. The way her dress swirled around her legs. How the strands of hair that had escaped her coiffure moved lightly on the air as she spun. The feel of her warm hand in his. And her smile. That sweet and trusting smile that would have been enough for him by itself. Even if he would not be able to tell her how he felt about her, Connie wanted to remember these moments, to keep them in his mind for some of those long days at sea that stretched out ahead of him.
* * *
Sophy fell exhausted into her bed that night. She had danced and d
anced, first with one partner and then with another. But it was more than that which caused her to feel worn out by the time she reached her bed. She had spent most of her energy this evening in trying to control the turbulent emotions that had poured over her in waves. There had been joy and longing and rejection and joy again. First with Mr. Hollingson as he had spoken sweet words to her and all but said again that he loved her. Then with Captain Croft, who showed himself the truest of friends. Before she had entered the rectory, she had been unsure how he would react, even unsure of her reaction to him. But he had been the picture of a gentleman. Only once had she thought she glimpsed a look like what had passed between them yesterday. But it had been gone when she'd looked back at him. Otherwise, they had passed a comfortable evening together. Captain Croft made it easy to smile.
Sophy fell asleep thinking about what a wonderful time she had passed this evening and hoping that the others felt the same.
Chapter XVI
Even the fact that they had spent the entire previous evening together did not stop the Crofts and the Wentworths from spending most of their Friday afternoon in company with each other. Knowing their time with the captain was running short, the boys spent the afternoon asking him as many questions as possible and begging him to tell them stories, even ones they had heard before.
The boys were ever eager for stories of Captain Croft's time at sea. Sophy watched Freddy especially. He had been running away to sea, after all, when she had first met the captain. Maybe she should speak to father about getting Freddy into a naval career, however they might do that. Edward, on the other hand, seemed remarkably suited for a studious life. She had no doubt that he would take orders. Sophy knew that Mr. Hollingson had talked to him about it a month ago and they had prepared a strict course of study to ready him for Oxford. Papa had seemed pleased with Edward's decision, though Sophy suspected that he still harbored dreams of one of his sons following in his footsteps and becoming a doctor. Sophy believed that Papa was coming to realize that his dream might not be such a realistic one for his sons. Freddy certainly showed no inclination toward that course of study – to any course of study, actually. Yet Sophy saw that he hung on every word Captain Croft said.
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