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The Limits of Fun: Propriety
“Dansez et vous vous sentirez mieux.”
[Dance and you’ll feel better]
—A French Proverb
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Treccia enthusiastically bounced around in her chair, addressing the major. “Lord Tremaine, tell me about these different Waltz styles.” Letty cringed inwardly at her sister’s unseemly ardor and shot her a hard look. Not in this ballroom, not with this society.
“Of course.” He had her stand facing him. “The German waltz has the partners only touching one hand. He held up his right and placed his left behind him, nodding for her to place her left hand in his upraised hand, her right taking her skirt. “My hand directs all the movement.” Like all things Teutonic, it is rather understated.”
While Treccia stood in that fashion, he then had her place her right hand on his shoulder, his left hand to her waist. “This is the Latin stance, seen in Italy and the Peninsula.”
“This one I know.”
“Ah, then be prepared for twirls and a chassé or two.” Treccia frowned but nodded. “If you are very daring, you can place your hand on my waist instead of my shoulder.” He gave her a devilish look. She shook her head with a shy smile.
Letty looked on, wishing she could try those waltz styles. Seeing the major glance at her, she feared Lord Tremain knew she harbored that desire.
He continued. “Yes, I understand the Waltz came to England via our involvement on the Continent years ago.”
“What is the French fashion.”
“We place both hands on each other’s waists.” He playfully made to demonstrate, but Treccia stepped back, demurely batting his hands away, self-consciously looking about. She sat, giving Tremaine a mock censorious look, then smiled. “We will not be attempting the French Waltz, sir.”
The major nodded sagely. “Very wise. Under the circumstances, a French waltz during our victory celebrations would appear unpatriotic. Bad form.” He seemed unaware of the scene he was making.
“And the Viennese?”
“That is the Spanish Waltz danced four times as fast, partners spinning like tops.”
“No. Four times?”
The major smiled. “Of course, we will avoid it. It makes everyone dizzy. Even observers find their heads swim alarmingly.”
Treccia grinned. “So, what is this Bristol style waltz?”
“Ah, yes.” He took her hand, having her stand again. By her side, he placed one hand on his middle and the left behind, in the small of his back. He had her do the same. Letty saw several other men and women watching this exchange. Their group of ladies were paying close attention.
“Now what?”
“Now, you skip-hop around the dance floor singing ‘Yo-ho, Yo-ho, a sailor’s life for me” in Bristol fashion.”
He gave a comical demonstration, which had many of the onlookers chuckling.
Treccia fell into her chair again, laughing, a bright light in her eyes. “You, sir, are a rapscallion. You have ruined the last vestiges of my solemnity.”
Lord Tremaine bowed. “I am glad to be of service. I am simply out to enjoy myself, and find you are a worthy partner.” He gave her a roguish raise of an eyebrow and glanced at Letty.
She realized she was grinning, and embarrassed, immediately calmed her expression. Treccia could not become attached to the major, a man with no prospects and such a wild reputation.
The master of ceremonies made his call for the Waltz. The major offered his hand to her sister and the two, with smiles of anticipation, joined the couples on the dance floor. Letty watched them around the floor, twirling, the major promenading Treccia at intervals and turning her under his arm. She stumbled a few times, but the major’s calm smile and a witty aside had her laughing. They both looked like they were having a far better time dancing than most of the surrounding couples.
Letty sighed and observed that Mr. Whitebread remained talking with Ovolina after their dance set. Mr. Everhard hovered, watching Treccia Waltz. He would be a far better match for her sister. The Waltz ended, Treccia and Lord Tremaine returning. Mr. Everhard immediately asked Treccia for the next Waltz, which was being announced.
Lord Major Tremaine didn’t miss a step, but turned to Miss Peeny. “I hope I have passed muster, Miss Peeny. Waltz?” The lady in question nodded, reluctant to admit approval, but she appeared at least mildly interested in the coming dance.
Letty closed her eyes, letting the beautiful music wash over her. That way, she couldn’t see the swirling couples creating a kaleidoscope of colors on the polished floor. She didn’t consider herself a melancholy person, but in this moment a loneliness, hollow and dark, drained her energy, her will. It had been wicked fun at the beginning, trapping all the coxcombs and panderers as well as the few decent men into dancing. While she wanted the best for her sisters and friends, she wasn’t sure she could endure the coming months of what Lord Tremaine called her “campaign.”
The music ended and Letty opened her eyes to see everyone returning. Miss Peeny appeared happy. The group chatted enthusiastically about the dance as Letty looked on. The musicians played a dramatic measure announcing the next fireworks display. Everyone rose and headed out the French Windows into the garden.
The major came and stood next to Letty, arm extended. “Will you be going out to see the Fireworks?”
Letty shook her head. “There have been displays every two hours. I saw the first one. That is enough for me.” The major gazed down at her in his martial attire, seeming larger than life, apart from her understanding, an odd mixture of quick parts, sanguine temper, humor, and caprice. She looked up at him when he didn’t respond. His continued attention made her look away. “Truly Lord Tremaine. I prefer staying here.” She raised her head, meeting his eyes. They were a deep blue.
“Very well. May I bring you some refreshments before I go?” Again, she shook her head. He frowned, but gave a curt bow and left. She watched him step into the garden, arms wide to all the ladies and her sisters watching, gesturing expansively at the wonders of the fireworks.
Letty rose carefully, making her way slowly to the refreshment table, pouring herself a large glass of ratafia. Sometime later, everyone returned, filling the ballroom with chatting clusters of men and women. After a few more dances, the major made his leave of everyone, claiming family obligations were pulling him away. His two compatriots were obviously staying, Captain Whitebread with Ovolina, Captain McTodd with Miss Sackrider, all continuing to discuss books while Mr. Everhard remained in deep conversation with Treccia. Compared to the last month of their scheme, very singular. These successes left Letty to rethink some of their traps and their previous results.
As the major’s blue-uniformed figure strolled away, disappearing among the crowd of guests, Treccia leaned over to Letty and said, “I’m sorry to see him go.” Letty nodded, but pursed her lips, struggling with her contrary impressions of the man.
~.~.~
Jack worked to gather his energy as he wandered the Cosingwell mansion, searching for his aunt and uncle. Finally, he found a servant who knew their location in his relatives’ massive pile and could give him directions. He found his aunt standing in the gardens, surrounded by friends playing a game with cards. Each person only had one, and they were passing them to each other and laughing. When she saw Jack approaching, she handed her playing card to someone watching, pulling them into the game.
“Jack, are you leaving so soon?
“Not just yet, but it has been a long day. We caught the late tide from Antwerp yesterday and then traveled here from Dover today.”
“My goodness, I can imagine. Well, let’s go find your uncle.”
They discovered Percy Gaywood, Earl of Cosingwell in conversation with several prominent gentlemen over cigars and cognac in the library. When he saw his wife enter with Jack, he immediately excused himself and met them at the door.
“Jack, my boy, it is good to see you whole and healthy after so many years of campaigning.” His uncle shook hands with him, studying him. “You’ve grown. “Yes, by god, I can see you’ve grown in more ways than one.”
When Jack smiled, meeting his gaze, but said nothing, his aunt suggested they retire to a nearby parlor.
Once settled in chairs facing one another, Jack’s uncle rang for tea and champagne.
Gaywood, sitting back in the largest wingback chair in the room, in typical style, ignored the pleasantries and like a trained pointer, gave his full attention to what he deemed important. “You’ve gone from coronet to the rank of major in just eight years. Well done.” He glanced at his wife. “We feared your madcap ways would see you killed eventually.”
Aunt Bea hissed a low chastising, “Percy.”
Jack smiled at this old refrain, his adventures leading to a short life. “It seems, uncle, the Army found my ‘madcap’ ways useful in the Peninsula.”
“Yes, yes. Seems so, seems so.” His uncle settled himself in the chair, like a cat wiggling its tail getting ready to pounce. Jack sighed inwardly. Little had changed in the family’s touch after eight years.
Aunt Bea shot a telling squint at her husband to delay the attack. Just then, the cavalry arrived, the tea tray and refreshments. With the pleasantries one expects while doling out the rations, they served the tea tray and refreshments. When done, Aunt Bea continued. “You know we have always considered you like a son, a brother to Emily, ever since your parents died. We were concerned about you. The whole family cares, you know. Everyone insisted we share all your letters.” She gave a little giggle, so like Aunt Bea. “They were vastly entertaining.”
With a warm smile, Jack nodded. “I’m gratified my letters afforded some enjoyment. I have perceived your love and concern with unerring felicity. It remained an aid in every main, carrying me through the war.”
“Yes, yes, my boy,” said Uncle Percy in softer tone. “We shall have you dine with us this week. Emily and her family will be down soon for the Celebrations. At the moment, little John has a fever.”
“Little John?” Jack swallowed a lump in his throat at the thought of Emily naming her son after him.
Aunt Bea laughed. “Yes, he is three years old. Emily named him John after he tried to crawl out of her lap within hours of being born.” She gave him a significant look.
“It will be wonderful seeing her again and to meet her family.”
Uncle Percy harrumphed. “Will you be visiting your brother?”
Jack frowned at this. His brother’s attitude towards him was one of satirical hauteur. Being the first born, Robert felt a need to be proper, particularly concerning his wayward younger brother. “I am not sure I will make it to Derbyshire. I have written to him, but I have duties here in London, mostly ceremonial, escorting all the heads of state and such for the next month or two. A squadron of my regiment is scheduled to escort the Russian Emperor, King Frederick, and the Regent to Oxford tomorrow. Similar duties are planned while the Allied leaders are in England. Then my squadron has a part to play in the August 1st Grand Jubilee.
“Oh, my,” sighed Aunt Bea. “I didn’t realize you were in London on official duty.”
“I will have time for visits while I am here, never fear. I will see Aunt Catherine in the next few days” Of all his family, Aunt Cathy and Emily were his favorites. “How is she?”
Both his aunt and uncle grew somber. Aunt Bea gave him a worried turn of her mouth and said, “Yes, see her as soon as possible. She is not doing well.”
“What? She mentioned no infirmities in her letters.
“Yes, she hasn’t been sick until recently. I know she didn’t want to worry you.”
“Is it life-threatening?”
Both his relatives nodded, sadness haunting their expressions.
Jack didn’t know what to say other than, “I will see her as soon as possible.”
“Of course. We will see her later this week.” His uncle examined Jack for a moment, then performed the long-postponed pounce. “After the celebrations, Jack, what are your plans now that the war is over.”
“There has been talk of the regiment being stationed in Ireland or India. With the war still raging against the United States, the army may even send us off to fight our former colonies.
“You plan to stay in the army?” His uncle appeared perplexed by this possibility, his generous eyebrows doing a little flutter, like a bird preparing to fly.
“Why not? As a cavalry major, I have a comfortable living. I can see myself moving up the ranks. Having a General Tremaine in the family wouldn’t cause you any embarrassment, would it?
“Jack, we aren’t embarrassed to have a major in the family,” Aunt Bea interjected. Your reputation is all that is good.”
“Thank you, Aunt Bea.” Jack nodded to her solemnly. “That reputation has been a hard fight and fairly won—and I don’t mean just against the French.”
“We are immensely proud of you, boy. eh wot?” Gaywood said glancing at his wife. “But with this new reputation,” he added as though it was unexpected, “have you thought of politics? With your winning ways, you could go far. I and my friends could stand for you.”
Jack laughed. “Me?” When his uncle’s face constricted around his eyes, Jack shook his head ruefully. “I appreciate the offer, uncle. However, I have been on the receiving end of our vaulted ministers’ decisions and Parliament votes concerning the Army and our war for many years, so it wouldn’t be prudent.”
His uncle sat up. “Wot? Why wouldn’t be prudent?”
“I have read just today about the sudden disbanding of entire battalions, stupidly dumping the soldiers on the streets of London. I am certain I would draw the corks of my fellow politicians within a day of taking my seat in Parliament. Challenges and more bloodletting would follow, no doubt. It appears to be the fashion in politics. Lord Castlereagh alone collects duels by the bushel, and less than two years ago, wasn’t Perceval, the Prime Minister, shot on the floor of the House of Commons? No thank you, uncle. Give me predictable war.”
Uncle Percy sputtered, throwing out, “You know nothing about government and financing a war.”
“All the more reason to avoid subjecting the government to my help.”
Uncle Percy harrumphed again, signaling an escalation. Aunt Bea placed a hand on his sleeve. One more harrumph and Uncle Percy would declare war and issue orders as the head of the family. “‘Well, consider it, my boy, consider it. The empire is growing, and it needs guidance.”
“Uncle Percy, I have an all-embracing faith in you and your Tory compatriots to steer the ship of state successfully —or at least, keep it out of the shoals. We did win the war.”
Jack took a deep breath. He had navigated the necessary, oft repeated family conversation as best he could. They had delivered his marching orders concerning Aunt Cathy and Emily. Time to leave. He stood, saying, “I must collect my friends and prepare for tomorrow, chalk my cording and fluff the fur,” waving his fingers through the fur lining of his pelisse. Jack bowed and said his goodbyes. “And Aunt Bea,” he concluded with a grin, “we will leave by the front door.”
“Yes, see that you do. We will have a supper when Emily and her family arrive. Let us know when you are free from your duties.”
He snapped to attention with a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
As Jack turned to go, she said, “And Jack, leave the Lindsey sisters alone.”
“Say again?” She raised an eyebrow at his feigned innocence. In the past, she was always telling him to leave something or someone alone. “Why is that?”
“Their father has left them nearly destitute, and Letty is trying to see her sisters wed this Season.”
Jack smiled. “Letty, is it?”
His aunt pursed her mouth. “We heard about your antics in the ballroom.”
“Antics? Aunt Bea, her sisters obtained several dances with our help. What could be at issue with that?” He gave his aunt an assessing look. “You know the game she and those wallflowers are playing.”
Bea cleared her throat at the word ‘wallflowers,’ but said firmly, “We do, and approve of it, as do many of the ladies of the ton. Just tonight, she rid our celebration of any number coxcombs and wastrels who we must invite, but attend only to drink all our liquor and, when foxed, embarrass everyone.”
Astounded, Jack stared at his aunt. “This is a wide-ranging plot, then?” When his aunt fluttered her hands, as though attempting to fan the question away, he smiled and shook his head. “My estimation of Lady Mimolette is growing by flying bounds. So, how am I a threat to Lady Mimolette’s efforts?”
His aunt gazed at Jack for a long moment, and sighed, as though she didn’t expect him to understand. “Just be careful, and don’t go using your charms on Lady Mimolette. Leave her be.”
Jack held back a reply he would regret, pushed down the familiar ache, buried the disappointment, and deep resentment ignited by those few words, spoken by a beloved aunt. They didn’t trust him and didn’t expect him to be proper company He was never quite up to snuff.
“Aunt Bea, whatever I may or may not do regarding Lady Mimolette or her sisters, I have no intention of throwing a spanner in her campaign or harming any of them.” Some of his anger must have leaked out because Aunt Bea and Uncle Percy displayed concerned and yes, skeptical expressions as he left them —as had been the case so many times over the years, including his decision to enter the army. One would think he was still ten instead a man of thirty.