—The (London) Times, 1816
Chapter 12
The next afternoon Barlow insisted Alec leave the office early, since he had arrived that morning at the regular hour, even after his late return the night before. Alec was tired, but before he went home to take his rest, he would take exercise with Walter Allen.
Alec gathered up his things and walked into the adjoining churchyard to wait for his fencing opponent. As usual, he peeled off his snug frock coat, noting the act didn’t pain his side as it had only a few days before. Since he found himself there earlier than expected, he would use the time to stretch and limber up until Walter joined him.
“Here I am, Mr. Valcourt.”
Alec looked up, surprised to see Miss Midwinter standing in the church doorway, arms crossed. Had she been waiting for him?
She walked toward him. “I’ve come for another private dancing lesson, since I was not invited to join in at Medlands.”
So she had heard about the lessons. And wasn’t pleased to be left out.
He said, “I don’t think James Allen would approve of private dance lessons. Do you?”
Her eyes flashed. “Touché. But I don’t answer to Mr. Allen. We are not engaged.”
Alec was glad to hear it, yet still he resisted. “I will speak to the Allen family,” he said. “I am certain they will be happy to include you in their next lesson.”
“When is it?”
“Tuesday.”
Her lower lip protruded in a pout. “I confess I have never been good at waiting, Mr. Valcourt. I haven’t the patience Patience has. May I have just a brief lesson now? And not etiquette again.” She locked her beguiling blue gaze on his, drawing him in. “Please?”
Thunder and turf, this woman was desirable. And she knew it.
He swallowed. “Had you a particular dance in mind?”
She nodded, and her voice lowered in register. “I have been hearing a great deal about the waltz. A dance that raised even Lord Byron’s eyebrows cannot fail to intrigue a sheltered country girl like me.”
“That is not how one thinks of you, Miss Midwinter.”
“No? How does one think of me?”
Too often, Alec thought but did not say so.
Instead he said, “The waltz is considered quite scandalous by some, it’s true. . . .”
“Why do you think I wish to learn it?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.
Alec went on quickly, “But I teach a style of German waltz my grandfather learned on the continent. Personally, I find it graceful and exhilarating. And not, as the naysayers claim, indecent.”
She feigned a theatrical sigh. “Too bad.” Boldly, Julia stretched out her hands toward him. “What’s the first step?”
The first step, he thought. The first step down a slippery slope? He realized he had already taken that first step, as far as Miss Midwinter was concerned—at least in his heart. Now his feet were eager to follow.
He sighed, giving in. “First I shall demonstrate the basic step.” Ignoring her outstretched hands, he turned his back to her. Anything to give himself a moment to gather his wits and resolve. “Step forward with your left, extending your heel. Then with your right. Now pivot.”
He pivoted to face her, his left foot now forward, then drew it back over his right, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Now you try it.”
She stepped forward.
“Your other left, Miss Midwinter.”
“Oh, right. I mean . . . left.” She stepped forward with the correct foot, then the other, then pivoted, which was no easy feat on the rough stone path. But then again, this was the woman who balanced atop church parapets. She wobbled as she crossed her left foot over her right, extending her arms to steady herself. She craned her neck to look back at him. “Now what?”
“Repeat, until you do it correctly.”
She repeated the step several more times, Alec offering crisp instructions as she did so. “Again . . . Concentrate.” He was determined to remain impersonal and professional.
Then he showed her the simpler second half of the step. “From the crossed position, step backward with your right foot. Then turn in place, bringing both feet together.”
She watched intently as he demonstrated. He was relieved to see her concentrating, taking him seriously, and leaving off with the flirtation.
When performed together, the two parts of the basic step turned the partners around and around each other. One partner moved forward, propelling the pair into the whirling spins, while the other partner served as pivot. Then their roles were reversed.
“Now for the primary body position,” Alec began. “The only potentially scandalous aspect of the dance as I teach it is this—the lower halves of our bodies must remain fairly close together, while our upper bodies lean back, creating the effect of a child’s spinning top.”
She hesitated, perhaps imagining standing so close to him. “I see,” she murmured—for the first time looking mildly self-conscious.
“We don’t have to proceed, Miss Midwinter. We may stop the lesson any time you like.”
“No, thank you. Pray continue.”
“So we stand facing one another.” He stepped closer, his shoes nearing hers. “You put your hands here on my upper arms. Lightly. Not a vise grip, please.”
He frowned at her splayed fingers on his right bicep and pressed them together, imitating his grandfather’s prim admonitions. “No claws, Miss Midwinter. Fingers together.”
She nodded her understanding and placed a carefully cupped hand on each of his upper arms.
“Better. Now, I place my hands . . .” He swallowed. “Here.” He felt her give a little start as his hands pressed beneath her shoulder blades.
“Now, stand a little closer . . .” He drew her nearer. “Our feet toe to toe.”
“Oh!” she breathed.
A becoming blush heightened her color. He found he liked it, liked being the one to disconcert her for once, when it was usually the other way around. “Keep your shoulders back. . . . Excellent.”
“Now, we will try the basic step. You will step backward with your right, while I step forward with my left.” Alec pivoted, turning her with him, and crossed at the ankles. “See how I propel us around? Now it’s your turn. Step forward with your left, heel leading. Now pivot . . .”
She wobbled, and he steadied her in his arms, finding he liked the sensation a bit too much for comfort. Or safety.
“It will actually be easier when we dance at full tempo, Miss Midwinter, as you will see.”
“I hope so,” she murmured.
They walked through the steps again. When it was her turn to move forward, she stepped on his toe. “Sorry!”
“Nothing to apologize for. My fault. I didn’t extend my toe out of reach.”
She looked unconvinced. “Are you certain I didn’t hurt you?”
“Not at all. Now, let’s try it faster.” He began humming a Joseph Lanner waltzer in three-quarter time, a tune his grandfather had loved to play.
“One, two, three. One, two, three . . . Now you step, now I step. . . .” Soon they were spinning down the churchyard path.
“Wonderful!” she cried, giving herself over to the thrill of the whirling dance. “I am flying!”
Alec smiled. This was why he loved to teach. This was what made all the jeers and taunts of “caper merchant” and “macaroni” worthwhile.
Applause interrupted them. Startled, Alec drew his partner to a lurching halt, afraid they had been discovered by Lady Amelia or the Wilcox brothers.
“Bravo!” Walter Allen stood in the churchyard gate, sword under his arm, watching them with a boyish grin. “Doesn’t look like any fencing I’ve ever seen, but good show all the same.”
Alec released Julia and took a step back. A long step. He cleared his throat. “Perhaps, Miss Midwinter, we should continue our lesson another time—”
He looked at Walter. “Would your family mind, do you think, if Miss Midwinter joined our next da
nce lesson?”
“Not at all. Julia knows she’s always welcome at Medlands.”
Julia looked from him to Walter and back again, brushing aside a curl that had fallen from its pins. “Very well. Thank you.” She curtsied and added sweetly, “I should enjoy it above all things.”
Two weeks had passed with no reply to Lady Amelia’s letter. Alec began to hope that her London acquaintance had somehow not heard about the Valcourt scandal.
On Tuesday, Alec and Aurora walked together to Medlands for the Allens’ third dancing lesson. Alec was looking forward to it, and to the prospect of Julia Midwinter joining them. Though he knew if he were wise, he would avoid her like the plague.
They met again in the Medlands music room—Alec and his sister, Patience, James, and a reluctant Walter.
Alec announced, “We shall begin with a fairly simple country dance called Knole Park—a longways dance for two couples.”
He walked the four through the steps—James partnering Aurora, and Walter with Patience. Alec was surprised Miss Midwinter had not yet arrived when she had seemed so eager to do so, but made no comment.
He began, “Circle four hands once around. Then first corners change places.”
James and Patience did so.
“Second corners change places.”
With a nudge and a whispered word from Aurora, she and Walter followed suit.
“Now, first couple leads down the center, then back, then cast down one place. Well done, James. Walter, step forward with Patience. Good.”
Alec continued his instructions, then he picked up his grandfather’s walking stick to tap out the time while he called the steps. “Let’s walk through it again.”
Walter struggled, but Patience gestured and prodded her brother through the steps.
Even smooth James faltered once or twice, but graceful, experienced Aurora gave him whispered reminders and gentle leads as well. Again, Alec thought he saw admiration in James Allen’s eyes, but he hoped he was mistaken. He feared no good could come of it. Especially considering what his uncle had told him about James Allen and Miss Midwinter. Julia had said they were not engaged. Yet would they be, eventually?
Alec set aside the walking stick. “Now, let’s try it to music.”
“But I shan’t remember what to do,” Walter groaned.
“Aurora will call out the steps the first time. All right?”
Walter grinned at her. “Thanks, Miss V.”
Alec positioned his fiddle and lifted the bow. It felt good to play, though no doubt imperfectly. He began the introduction, and Aurora called out the first steps. Fortunately for him, the couples were too busy concentrating on the dance to pay his lack of precision any mind. Soon the dancers relaxed and smiles appeared as they mastered the simple sequence and began to enjoy themselves.
The door opened and Julia Midwinter walked in.
Alec’s pulse accelerated. He finished the final measures and ended the tune with a squeak instead of the flourish he’d intended.
“Miss Midwinter,” he said. “Nice of you to join us.”
The others turned to warmly greet the newcomer. James, however, stepped quickly away from Aurora, and walked over to welcome Julia personally.
At that moment, Sir Herbert and Lady Allen came in “only to watch,” but their children insisted they dance as well.
So Alec moved on to the Ramsgate Assembly, another longways dance, but this one written for three couples. He walked them through the similar steps, with him and Aurora demonstrating as needed. “First and second couple set . . . Lead down the middle and up again. Now turn opposite corners. . . .”
Sir Herbert and Lady Allen mastered the dance quickly, with grace and obvious pleasure. Walter less quickly and with less grace, but with good humor.
They walked through it twice without music, then Alec picked up his instrument once more and Aurora sat down to accompany him on the pianoforte.
With three couples dancing and the lilting harmony of the two instruments, the mood became nearly as festive as a real ball.
Finally, Lady Allen threw up her hands in breathless girlish delight and declared she’d had quite enough. She insisted on playing in Aurora’s stead. Her husband patted his chest and said he would turn the music for her while he caught his breath.
He smiled at Alec. “Surely you have earned a chance to dance with the other young people, Mr. Valcourt.”
“But as the dancing master—”
“Come on, Valcourt,” Walter urged. “Show us how it’s done.”
“Yes, do dance with us, Mr. Valcourt,” Patience added with a sweet smile.
Only Julia said nothing either way, which somewhat surprised him, yet at the same time, made him feel more at ease in accepting their invitation to dance.
James once again claimed Aurora, and Walter asked Julia, leaving Patience without a partner.
“Very well. I would enjoy that,” Alec replied. “Miss Allen, would you do me the honor?”
She curtsied. “I would be delighted, Mr. Valcourt.”
Lady Allen played what should have been an easy tune with more enthusiasm than precision, her eyes often straying from the sheet music to admire the dancers.
Alec’s feet followed the steps of long familiarity, and he felt no discomfort in looking into Patience Allen’s face and letting himself enjoy the dance and his partner.
When the tune ended, Sir Herbert applauded. “Now why not change partners and try again?”
But at that moment, the music room door opened, and a housemaid entered with a tray of tea things and a footman followed, carrying a large silver teapot. The Allens insisted the Valcourts take refreshment with them, and they all paused to rest and quench their thirsts.
Lady Allen gestured toward the tray. “Not as grand as a midnight supper at a London ball, I’m afraid. But I hope it will do.”
They all assured her it would do very well. Patience began pouring tea for everyone, while they helped themselves to a variety of small dainties.
As Julia accepted a cup from Patience, she said plaintively, “Oh, to experience a London season as you have.”
“We took our children only the one time,” Sir Herbert said. “What was that—two or three years ago now?”
“Three,” Patience replied.
Finished pouring, she joined the other ladies seated in chairs pushed to the room’s perimeter, while the men stood about, teacups and saucers in hands.
“We attended a ball whilst we were there,” Lady Allen commented. “Patience was a bit young, but James danced once or twice, I recall.”
Alec asked James, “Is this the ball you mentioned during which Walter stood and held up the wall?”
James nodded. “For the entire evening.”
Walter quipped, “And quite successfully, I might add.”
“At all events,” Lady Allen said, “all of us soon longed for home. We left London after only a fortnight away and have never returned. There is no place we’d rather be than Medlands.”
Around her, the other Allens solemnly nodded.
Julia, Alec noticed, turned her head to discreetly roll her eyes. But a strange ache lanced Alec. “How blessed you are. How fortunate.”
“Yes, we are,” Sir Herbert agreed. “And are you similarly blessed, now that you’ve come to live with family?”
Alec looked down into his teacup, then inhaled. “My uncle is very kind. And I have my mother and sister with me, which is a great comfort.” He sent a smile to Aurora. “But it isn’t home. And likely never shall be.”
“You lost your home?” James asked.
“Yes. When we lost my father.”
Aurora, he noticed, ducked her head.
James looked at her in sympathy. “I am very sorry.”
“As am I,” Patience said. “I cannot imagine what we would do if we ever lost Papa.”
Alec gave her a sad smile. “Hopefully you shall not need to worry about that for a long, long time.”
Sh
e brightened. “If ever!”
Alec felt his brow furrow at that, but Sir Herbert chuckled and reached down to give his daughter’s arm an affectionate pat. “I cannot promise immortality, my pet. But I shall do my utmost to live as long as I can.”
He looked at his wife warmly. “We really ought to host a ball here at Medlands, my dear.”
“Indeed we should, my love. I shall think on it.”
Refreshment taken, the dancers returned to their positions in the center of the room. Lady Allen sat once more at the pianoforte and launched into another vigorous round of Ramsgate Assembly.
This time Walter claimed Aurora, and James Patience, leaving Alec to dance with Julia. As he’d hoped for. Though with some trepidation.
“Miss Midwinter, may I have this dance?”
“Indeed you may. It is why I have come, after all.”
She smiled at him, and he allowed himself to smile back. From the corner of his eye, he caught James Allen observing this exchange with a slight frown.
As they danced, Alec was amused by Miss Midwinter’s playful swish of her skirt as she set to him, side to side. He enjoyed taking her hand in his to lead her down the center and back. A few steps later, he took her right hand again, balancing forward, then back, before changing places with her. She really was graceful. However, when she looked at him, he suddenly felt as though he had two left feet. It was both relief and deprivation to release her to turn Aurora. Then again to turn Patience, before returning to Julia once more.
Finally, the tune ended and Sir Herbert clapped his hands. “Well done, one and all.” He glanced at the mantel clock. “Good heavens, we have kept Mr. Valcourt far longer than the agreed-to time. He shall be doubling his fee, and with good reason!” He smiled good-naturedly.
“Not at all, sir,” Alec assured him. “We were only enjoying ourselves for the last bit.”
“And enjoyable it was. Well done, Mr. Valcourt, Miss Valcourt. And thank you for joining us, Julia. I take it your mother does not know what we are about over here today?”
Miss Midwinter gave Sir Herbert a sheepish little smile. “No, sir.”
“Perhaps that is for the best. Well.” He rubbed his hands together. “It is nearly time to dress for dinner. Will our guests stay to dine with us?”
The Dancing Master Page 17