Daphne faced the next morning with a greater sense of purpose than she’d felt since watching her father turn Monsieur Henre away. For the first time since that day, the thought pulled a smile across her face.
She leapt up, stripped to just her muslin underdress, and reveled in the freedom of movement. Without a second thought, her body moved gracefully through the first steps. Daphne thought she’d remembered everything and even kept her form, but couldn’t be sure without the mirrors her father had installed in the small ballroom for her.
Light streamed in her windows, showing it to be early in the morning. The servants would be awake, but her mother and father tended to sleep a bit later. Daphne splashed her face in the water bowl, dried it quickly, and pulled on a simple shift. She didn’t want to waste any time.
On the way to the door, she hesitated before going back for her book. Somehow, it seemed right to keep the book with her until she made her dreams into reality. She’d never have conceived of the idea without reading the dancer’s life. She had a much easier path in comparison. Though her father would probably disown her if he ever found out, she could be careful. At least she already knew a dance troupe where the manager wanted her. Thanks to the dismissal notice she’d stolen, she even had the address of his theater.
Daphne slipped through the empty halls, stopping to twirl in her delight. The servants’ stair took her closer to the ballroom, though it carried some risk of discovery. She could always say she’d come looking for early breakfast snacks what with missing dinner the night before.
The excuse almost became true as she passed the entrance to the kitchen. Fresh baked rolls sent their delicious smells winding out to the corridor, and Daphne could hear breakfast meat sizzling. She hesitated, her grumbling stomach declaring its choice.
Her arm slipped just then, and the book jabbed into her side, feeling almost like a cramp from hunger. Daphne remembered what the dancer, who never said her name, had suffered. She’d gone days without food, until the hunger stopped even calling on her. Daphne could suffer an extra hour or two in favor of completing her practice before her parents woke up.
Steeling herself, she marched past the kitchen and right into Willem.
“Now, you should be watching where you’re walking, my lady,” he said, his eyes twinkling with the humor that never seemed far from his face.
Daphne put a hand over her heart, feeling it flutter against her fingers. “You startled me,” she accused.
He smiled, reaching out as if to touch her face before his hand dropped away. “I’m thinking it’s the other way round. What are you doing down in these passages?”
She blushed, staring up into his handsome face and wondering if he’d still do whatever she asked of him. He had only a few years on her, but those years had made him wiser. And yet, she’d never make this work without someone’s help.
“If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone, not even Grace.”
His happy expression fell away for a heartbeat before he smiled. “So you have a sweetheart as well,” he whispered, his fingers twisting against the leather of his belt. It wasn’t a question, but Daphne couldn’t bear the thought so spoke out anyway.
“Of course not. Why would I? And if I did, I’d no more bring him through the back door than I would bring in a dog.” She stamped her foot at him, angry that he could think so little of her.
He swept into a low bow that hid his face for a moment. “Then if not some lucky fellow, what brings you down here past the kitchen?”
“Dance.” Even as she whispered the word, she expected it to sound frivolous, but it didn’t. The single syllable held within it her hopes, her dreams, and her determination to make it happen.
Stepping aside, he put a hand to his forehead in salute. “I knew the master’s command wouldn’t keep you from it. I should have guessed where you were headed myself.” He grinned at her and waited for her to pass him as if watching a parade.
Daphne startled something odd in his eyes as she moved past, but she dismissed it, her thoughts turned forward to her practice.
The room seemed empty somehow with only her in it, but Daphne concentrated on doing the stretch patterns Monsieur Henre had taught her before going through the easiest step of her last routine. She felt untutored, her movements clumsy and uncoordinated.
She stopped, staring into the mirror as if it would find the answer to her problems. Instead, she only saw her sweat-slicked face and the doubt in her own eyes. Could she do this? Had her tutor meant what he said? Did she have the strength of the dancer in her book?
No confidence flickered in her eyes. Her mouth turned down and she looked away, unwilling to face the disappointment and failure there. Without dance, she had nothing. It and it alone made her special, unique. Otherwise, she was just another girl with noble blood, pretty, but not beautiful, destined to marry a frivolous, uncaring dandy.
Water gathered in her eyes, self-pity overwhelming her. “It has to work.” Her voice held all the determination and command she could muster. That other life wasn’t right for her.
“You’d do better with a beat to follow.”
Daphne jerked toward the door, her heart beating furiously, sure her father had discovered her.
Willem slipped the rest of the way through the entrance and bowed to her, a smile on his face. “Your old master used the pianoforte. I’m no talented musician like he was, but I thought I’d offer my services.”
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Daphne sent Willem a dubious look, unsure whether to chastise him for watching her or take him up on the offer. “And how will you help?” she asked, a touch of arrogance in her tone. “Plunking one key would do little but make my head ache.”
He shook his head back and forth, reproving her for her condescension. “I have but a servant’s instrument, but a bit of a talent for it.” He drew out a simple wooden flute, the like of which she’d seen old men whittling in the fields of their country home.
“You think you can keep a tune with that?” she asked, stepping closer as curiosity pulled her.
Willem grinned, raising the flute to his lips. “I’ve been told I play many a pretty tune, but you’ll have to judge for yourself.”
She nodded, giving him permission then sending a nervous glance to the door.
Willem had closed it behind him. The music wouldn’t attract attention she couldn’t afford.
The first note hung on the air, its solemn, almost mournful sound picking up on her emotion. Then he sent a trill of quick, high notes after, twisting around the first until she heard recovery, whether just wishful thinking or Willem’s intent, she couldn’t tell.
He played and played, pausing only to draw in deep breaths between tunes. At first, Daphne only listened, drawn by the sometimes sorry, sometimes joyful music. Then she started to feel the pattern lying under them and her foot began to move.
She closed her eyes, listening with her senses, allowing the music to draw her in and capture again that place where dance held all of her. The first step came almost as a surprise, but she moved swiftly to the next and the next, completing her basic forms with none of the hesitation that had caused her earlier doubt.
Soon, eyes open though only partially aware, Daphne danced across the hall, her body and soul tied into the movements. Deep in her heart, she felt the confidence and satisfaction sprout and grow until it spread throughout her.
Silence surprised her when it fell, leaving only the sounds of her indrawn breath and the scrape of her slippers against the hardwood floor. Daphne finished the motion, allowing her body to collapse against the floor, arms stretched forward and legs curled within the protection of her skirts.
She lay there until her heartbeat settled and her breathing eased.
“Lady Daphne?” Willem’s soft voice barely broke the silence.
Daphne rolled to her feet, graceful even with exhaustion threatening to make her limbs tremble. “Thank you for that, Willem. You play beautifully.” She smiled up at him and surprised a flush coloring his cheeks.
He touched his forehead, hiding his features. “At your service, Lady Daphne,” he murmured. “Whenever you need me.”
Deep inside the house, the longcase clock struck the hour of eleven, much later than she could have imagined. “Oh,” she said, worry coloring her tone. “We’ve been here three hours.”
A smile pulled up one side of Willem’s face. “I told the upstairs maid you didn’t want to be disturbed. No one will come looking for you for some time yet.”
“But Father…”
“Has eaten and gone, I imagine. You’ve not been about much in these past days. Your absence won’t be noted.”
Daphne turned to the chair where she’d placed her proper shoes, unsure whether to be grateful or upset. Did she have so little a place in this household that she could vanish and none would question? And if she still wanted to carry out her plan, she’d have to continue as if devastated so no one would have expectations of her.
“My duties are light in the morning hours, Lady Daphne.”
She turned to look at Willem, shocked. “I didn’t think. Should you have taken my father to the House of Lords? Have I made you neglect your duties?” Suddenly, she imagined their house without Willem and hated the picture. She’d taken him for granted but always knew he’d be there when she needed an ally.
He laughed, waving a hand to dismiss her concern. “I’m coachman it’s true, but the earl goes with another in the morning so they can talk freely on the way. Lord Michaels’ coachman takes this leg while I go to get them at the end of the day.”
Daphne tied her laces slowly, thinking about what he’d said. “Then you’re free in the mornings?” she asked, a plan just starting to form.
“As long as you or Lady Grace has no need of me. The Lady Scarborough is unlikely to travel before noon.” Willem gave her an intent look, as if waiting for her to say something, as if he expected her next words.
She’d thought to make a command of them, but her words, when she spoke, came out soft and gentle. “Would you meet me here then? At eight each morning? I’d like your flute to practice to.”
He swept into a low bow, his grin visible from the side. “Of course, my lady. As you desire.”
Her stomach rumbled before she could answer, making them both laugh.
“Morning will come again soon enough,” he said, his tone filled with understanding. “You should go eat now, before the breakfast offering has all gone cold, fit only for dogs.”
She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. With his help, she had a chance. She could really make this happen.
LADY SCARBOROUGH GREETED DAPHNE WITH a nod, no longer showing any surprise at her daughter rising so late. Daphne slid into her chair and accepted the bowl of steaming porridge a maid put in front of her, the butter on top just starting to melt.
“I was thinking to go to my dresser’s today, Daphne. Would you like to join me?”
Looking up, Daphne sighed inwardly at the hesitation in her mother’s tone. She smiled, keeping back the intense joy she felt from her practice in favor of a subtler expression. “If it pleases you,” she murmured, knowing she’d have to relent sometime.
Mother looked shocked for just a heartbeat before her face changed to show her delight. “It would. It would indeed. With the late morning hours you’re keeping now, you’d think you already spent the night out at gala after gala. I think it’s fine time to outfit you for a few small events.”
Daphne nodded, hiding her grimace behind a spoon of the cereal. She’d be hard pressed to keep with her rigorous training schedule if she stayed up into the wee hours of the morning pretending interest in the gawking boys who were after her father’s title. Even the dancing there held little of the passion and grace of true dance, not that she’d be allowed on the floor anyway.
Her mother continued speaking, planning which event would be best to make a quiet debut. Not a full coming out, but just an introduction, so she said. Daphne soon stopped listening, knowing well enough she need make no suggestions and that the plans would progress well enough without her support and even fine if she chose to express any objections.
She let her mother carry on, but Daphne had her own plans. The memory of her latest training drew a smile across her face, Willem’s flute and her graceful form creating a powerful combination.
“Now I hadn’t thought you cared much for Penelope. She’d be the perfect companion as you embark on this next step. Her parents are planning her coming out next spring. You could launch officially together.”
Daphne stared dumbly at her mother for a long moment before she realized Lady Scarborough must have connected the smile to whatever she’d been saying at that time. “Penelope seems a nice enough girl,” she managed, again filling her mouth to prevent an error.
Mother shook her head, waving to the maid to take Daphne’s bowl. “You’ve had enough of that. For someone who will make her full debut in spring, you have to start being conscious of these things. Bring her some fruits and cheese, won’t you, Mary?”
Smothering her protests, Daphne let the maid take her half-eaten porridge away in favor of a small platter of fruits and cheese. Her stomach grumbled at the substitution, but she had no choice. She had to get what energy she could from what she had. Dancing took more than her mother ever imagined, and Daphne couldn’t even explain why she needed the extra sustenance.
“I know,” her mother said, with a big smile. “Penelope’s mother will be at the arts discussion Marilyn Fowler’s holding. I’ll arrange for you to call on her tomorrow if you’d like. The two of you must have so much to talk about. It’ll be good for you to spend time with someone your own age.”
Daphne stared at her mother, horrified. How had a simple smile led to this? “Oh Mother, I couldn’t,” she whispered, her mind filled with an endless stream of things taking her away from her only love.
“Oh posh, my dear. No need to be shy. You’re just as good as any of them for all I let your father keep you a bit sheltered. I should have done away with that dancing years ago, but he thought it made you so happy.” She shook her head at Daphne. “And now look where you are. I tell you it will be fun. You’ll see quick enough there’s no need to mope in your room.” Leaning across, her mother patted Daphne’s hand firmly. “You have a lot going for you if you’d only take a moment to look around.”
Knowing that firm voice meant her mother’s mind was made up, Daphne smothered an unhappy sigh. “In the afternoon then,” she offered.
Mother smiled approvingly. “Of course. In the afternoon. We want you at your best.” She looked at the dress Daphne wore and shook her head. “A pity we don’t have time to get you into something more appealing, but that will come. No need to style you as anything more than the young girl you still are.”
Daphne pushed back from the table, acutely aware of the way her gown stretched against her chest and revealed a full inch of ankle. She’d pulled it from the cupboard after practice without even looking, hunger gnawing at her stomach so much she almost went to breakfast in the wrinkled, sweat-stained dress she’d danced in. Only the knowledge that her secret would be out drove her back to her room to change. She hadn’t taken the time to choose one that didn’t show how her body had matured.
“I’m done,” she said as she stood up. “I’ll be in my room.” Though she knew she fled, sometimes retreat was the better part of valor. She didn’t think her mother would concoct any more grand plans with her absent.
Her mother nodded, “Probably wise. Stuffing yourself before being measured would be foolish. I’ll send for you when I’m ready to leave.”
Daphne barely paused at the door to acknowledge her mother’s words. She’d forgotten about the gowns. Rest and quiet had been denied to her.
TUGGING THE SIDES OF HER new dress, Daphne struggled to recapture the joy of her morning practice. A yawn split her face as she fidgeted with the colorful ribbons lacing the front of the bodice, all dressed up for an outing when she needed a quiet rest with her books.
“Oh stop playing with them,” her mother said, irritation coloring her voice. “It’s the latest style, Hellenic, and you heard the seamstress. She couldn’t have dreamed of getting you a new dress in one day if not for the lacing that allowed her to readjust the size without extensive stitching.
Daphne dropped her hands to her lap, twining the fingers to keep them still. “I didn’t need a new dress,” she murmured, trying to keep the petulance from her tone.
Mother laughed. “You say that now, dearest, but just wait until you’re in a room with all your rivals and they have the most beautiful gowns. Then you’ll be happy for this.” Her mother tapped Daphne’s knee where the thick layers of pleated cloth lay heavy against her. “Just remember, no matter how much you might like them, each and every one is after the same man that you desire. Watch carefully. Learn both how to act and how to make yourself stand out.”
She glanced toward the mantle and her husband’s portrait. “How else do you think I could have snared your father? He might think the marriage arranged, but I didn’t dance attendance on his crippled aunt for nothing.”
Daphne stared at her mother, seeing a side she’d never really known before.
Lady Scarborough laughed. “Don’t look so shocked, my dear. It’s not as simple as you might think. You could leave the decision up to your father and end up second or third wife to one of his cronies. Far better to take a hand in it yourself no matter what it takes. Listen well today and you’ll see that I’m right.” She shook her head. “We really should not have sheltered you so much. Made all this too much of a surprise. You have a lot of catching up to do if you want your coming out to be a success. I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to put yourself out. Penelope may not be the cream, but she’s far from the chaff. You do well to learn from that young lady. Why, I’d guess she has her husband already picked out for all she’s not officially available.”
A cough drew their attention to the parlor doorway and relief flooded Daphne as the conversation came to a sudden halt.
Daphne leapt up, bending down to press a kiss against her mother’s dry cheek before striding to where Willem waited to escort her to the carriage.
“Now Daphne, no need to seem so eager. Don’t let the girl know how dependent you are. You’d think all that time spent with that dance tutor wasted.” A small gasp escaped her mother’s lips as Lady Scarborough pressed fingers against her mouth as if to call back the words.
“I’ll remember,” Daphne said softly, her mind racing back to her practice in the morning where she achieved a step Monsieur Henre had shown her the visit before his dismissal. Remembering her triumph brought heat to her cheeks and grace back to her motions as she followed Willem to the carriage. No matter what she had to suffer, she’d have the morning to look forward to.
Another yawn stretched her mouth as the hard exercise took its toll especially after Lady Scarborough dragged her about the previous afternoon. She’d have the morning to look forward to only if she could stay awake through the night.