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Too Many Parties, Too Much Fun
Si vous trébuchez, intégrez-le à la danse.
[ If you stumble, make it part of the dance ]
—Every French person’s Mantra
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Saturday Evening, June 25.
“What are you doing, Letty?”
Letty glanced at Treccia, but continued rifling through their mother’s jewelry. “I know there is green jade and opal necklace in one of these jewelry boxes. It goes with the opal earrings.”
Treccia sat on the bed in Letty’s bedroom, wearing her petticoat, scratching her arm watching her. “When have you ever thought of wearing anything but that old string of pearls?
“Now. I have thought of it now.” She opened another box and exclaimed, “Ha! I knew it was in here. Help me put this on.” She turned her back to Treccia and she attached the ends. Turning back to face her sister, Letty stood straight. “What do you think?”
“You are as lovely as ever. The green gives some sparkle to your otherwise very white dress.” Treccia frowned, hand on her chin. “Why don’t you wear something, well, more stylish, more colorful? I mean, I know you want to stand out among all the colorful dresses others are wearing, but really. This is the Cosingwells. We have been to their parties dozens of times. Why not try something different.”
“This is also the only dress that covers my feet when I’m sitting.”
“I don’t think anyone will notice if the toes of your shoes peek out. Besides, you can have dresses cut any length.”
“I don’t want to take that chance. Besides the money, you know how dressmakers talk. ”
Treccia sighed in resignation and asked Letty to help with her new dress, which was a pretty peach and yellow confection.
Treccia thought it was ridiculous to take their carriage from South Street to the Cosingwell’s no more than three blocks away, but Letty insisted. “Appearances. Call Lina and we can go. We are already fashionably late.”
Once in the carriage, Ovolina sat smiling, gazing out the window.
Treccia popped her sister in the arm. “What are you looking at with that silly grin on your face.”
Ovolina hit Treccia back. “You’re just unhappy because Mr. Everhard isn’t invited to this party.”
“Nothing of the kind.” Treccia squinted at her sister. “I’ll wager you were dreaming of the tall Captain Whitebread.” Ovolina just shrugged. “You know, if you marry him, you will be Mrs. Whitebread.” Lina stuck her tongue out, so Treccia finished by saying, “At home dinners will be all beer and loaves.” At that point, the girls started calling each other names based on their beau’s surname. It quickly became fierce, but too funny. Letty broke it up before she began laughing.
The receiving line was short, making the magnificent hall appear much larger than the family’s usually crowded events. Emily had informed Letty that there would only be one hundred guests, their closest friends. When announced, Emily left the receiving line to greet Letty with a hug and a kiss for the sisters. She escorted them past the line, but Lady Cosingwell fluttered over to say, “The boys are here and already diligently dancing.” The lady was enjoying her covert part in the Gillyflowers’ activities.
Emily wrinkled her nose at this, but quietly said, “The boys, really. Jack and Captain Whitebread have been quite vigilant, anticipating your arrival. They are dancing in the ballroom. There are card games in the cardroom, music and singing in the music room, lawn games in the garden,” she said, throwing out her arms, “and food everywhere.”
~ ~ ~
Jack danced with Miss Peeny, which she enjoyed, not only because Jack met her requirements for a competent dancer, but also because of the gentleman who watched them intently, a Mr. Bodicomb. She just glowed when she said to Jack, “I think he’s jealous.” Jack gave her an extra twirl at the end of the reel in front of Mr. Bodicomb standing on the side. Then escorted her to the gentleman, giving him a wink. Mr. Bodicomb’s dance was next.
Looking about, he didn’t see the Lindsey sisters, nor had he heard them announced. The six Gillyflowers attending already knew their quarry for tonight. The Cosingwells invited the men especially, being identified as shy, but well-heeled. There had been some plotting to have the ladies escorted about, taking in the various venues and activities. Jack was sure the men didn’t stand a chance tonight.
Jack sat with Charles and watched Duncan scumfish. Having danced with two of the Gillyflowers already, he had gained an introduction to a real beauty through his last partner. Jack bounced his bad leg, telling Charles it kept the muscles loose. What a canard.
He was just plain anxious. He remained embarrassed by his ‘spell’ as they were called, when not ‘battle mad’ or ‘wind foolish,’ the insanity caused by the concussive force of passing cannon balls. Not even Duncan or Chales knew about his spells. Can a woman still respect a man who has panicked like a frightened little boy all because of some urns toppling? It stole the wind from his sails. He found that Letty’s opinion of him had become important in the last two weeks.
Letty and her sisters stood at the entrance to the ballroom, peering about until they saw Charles and Jack. They both rose and walked across the ballroom to the women, as the next dances hadn’t been called yet. There were smiles all around in greeting. Both men bowed and complimented the ladies on their appearance. After a brief discussion, Ovolina and Charles went off to the music room. Letty bit her lip, less decisive.
Seeing no reserve in her address where he was concerned gratified him. Jack chuckled at her indecision. She glanced around the ballroom, noting where her ladies were engaged. “General, your troops have met the enemy and are finding success on the battlefield.”
Letty gave a piqued twist of her mouth. “I suppose your description is apropos. I have heard that the ballroom is a lady’s battleground.”
Smiling at this, Jack stepped closer. “As there is no current need for your beauty, allure, and direction, and as you don’t dance, perhaps another activity? Games in the garden can be enjoyable by candlelight.” He let the innuendo linger before saying, “Croquet?”
Letty cocked her head and raised her eyebrows, acknowledging the allusion. A captivating expression, Jack thought. “Croquet it is.”
When they reached the part of the garden where it was set up, there were others waiting to fill out the number of players. As Letty knew one of them from school, a Maggie Thatcher, introductions were quickly done. The court had been chalked and the wickets already placed. Teams were four men against four women, the hot and cold teams. Everyone played with a fierce competitive spirit. Maggie and Letty quickly gained the lead. Jack had just hit his red ball through the number three hoop when Letty, giving him a wicked smile tapped her blue ball into his, a roquet. She spent her first free stroke sending his ball to the other side of the court. Her second stroke popped her ball through the number four wicket for an even greater lead. The women cheered and the men groaned.
Jack came over as the other team members took their turns. “You, my lady, are a fiendish player.”
“I wager you say that to all the women who best you.”
Jack laughed at this, saying, “Too small a number to count.” He bumped her shoulder playfully, and it threw her off balance on her bad foot. She tried to use her mallet to keep from falling, but it snapped, and she fell hard on the grass.
She struggled to her feet, swatting away Jack’s hands when he tried to help. She stood and brushed off her dress, which she could see was grass stained. Looking around, the other players watched her, saying nothing. Jack retrieved another mallet for her. Close to her, Jack said, “I’m sorry, Letty, I didn’t think I bumped you that hard.”
Speaking in a whisper, she said, “Of course you did, you great ox.” Jack handed her the new mallet and again tried to apologize. “Just stay away from me.” The rest of the jokes and conversation remained tense because of Letty’s black frown. Letty hit her ball with a vehemence Jack had never seen. When the women won the game, Letty handed her mallet to Maggie and stalked off. The men and women all turned to Jack. He couldn’t think of a thing to say, so just shrugged with a weak smile. He knew where she was hiding off to.
~ ~ ~
Letty let the rippling sounds caress her, the still, cool air around the fountain bring her some calm. The trees around the fountain deadened the noises of the party to a distant hum. She sat on the stone bench cursing her foot, cursing herself for being a fool. Her anger over the embarrassment she felt only made the situation worse. She closed her eyes and tried to quiet her agitated state. Her success had been limited when she heard footsteps on the flagstones surrounding the fountain. Jack.
“Please go away.”
“Unlikely. I have a glass of champagne for you.” She heard the glass scrap on the stone bench as he set it down. The scrapping of leather on stone, the sigh of material as he sat on the bench made her nerves vibrate like the strings in Treccia’s piano. She was sure the note was C-sharp.
The silence then went on unbroken. What was he waiting for? She mentally sighed. He was waiting for her, to come to her senses.
“Jack, if you’ve come to apologize again—”
“No, I’ve already said how sorry I am.”
“Yes. Yes, you have.”
Neither spoke for a time. When Jack spoke, he sounded tired. “We were having such a good time. I’d hate to think the entire evening is spoiled because of one mistake on my part.”
She wanted to cry. It had been so good, not something she’d experienced outside of her sisters and finishing school with Emily. “I made it worse. I was embarrassed and made everyone miserable with my anger.”
“What is the concern with your foot?”
Fear coursed through her. He’d finally asked the question. She knew he’d been aware of how she favored it, refusing to dance. This is where he would be disgusted by her twisted, misshapen foot. Might as well have done with it. She reached for the champagne and swallowed enough to clean her palette and clear her head.
“I have a clubbed foot.” There was no reply for a moment. She was afraid he would simply leave.
“Oh. You manage it well.”
Letty hadn’t expected that reply. “Uh, thank you.”
After a time, with a thoughtful air, he said, “We have a trooper in the regiment with a clubbed foot.”
“What?” Letty finally turned to him. “He was allowed to join up?”
“Well, he tricked the recruiter. His name was Oliver Compost.”
“Honestly?” She smiled at that.
“Yes, he enlisted under a false name so no one in the parish would expose his ‘infirmity.’ He had been a cobbler’s apprentice and made himself a special boot. When his captain found out, the 15th was in Spain and Oliver had already proved himself more than competent. So he remained. He’s still with the 15th.”
Letty glanced at him. “Were you his captain?”
“Well, yes.”
Letty let out a breath, and straightened her skirts. “My father never accepted my, my . . .”
“Infirmity?”
“Yes. He thought if he made me walk miles a day, it would correct itself. He refused to see doctors who might have actually helped.” She sighed. “The men in my family, my father, uncles, and cousins have been in the mold of Mr. Blusterfield. It has left me resentful and reticent around men. This evening, where men and women who just met could find the interactions pleasant, even amusing is, well, new to me, other than visiting your aunt.” She fluffed out her skirts, covering her feet completely. “Until I spoiled it.”
Jack just shrugged and remained attentive.
“When you maneuvered your way into the Gillyflowers efforts, adding to their success . . .my first response was to doubt your motives and resent your help. It seemed to threaten all I had so carefully planned.” She before looking at him. “I have found men, starting with my father, to make my life a struggle.”
Her stomach ached, as though she had bared her soul and lay helpless. She had never said such things to a man.
Jack didn’t say anything but gazed at the fountain for a time. She could here music starting up for a new set.
“Would you care to dance?”
“What?”
“Well, I mentioned to my aunt that the flag stones around the fountain were tippy and uneven. She hadn’t known. Our corpulent Regent came this way during a party on the first of the month and apparently did the damage. I see Lady Cosingwell has had them repaired. They are nice and even now.”
Jack stood and held out his hand. “We will take it slow. What do you say, Lady Mimolette?”
She gazed at his hand, feeling emotionally drained, with not enough energy to be afraid or embarrassed. She took his hand and stood. She had danced with her sisters at times, but this was different. He faced her and held up his right hand holding hers, and placed his left on her waist. In the cool evening air, his warm touch made her shiver. She placed her right hand on his shoulder. She gazed up into his eyes, never having been this close to him, or any man.
He started slowly counting 1-2-3 in time with the ballroom music. He then took one step toward her left. She awkwardly stepped back. He moved to her right, stepping out and she followed with right foot. He repeated this slowly until they were circling at a languid pace. He held her closer as they danced. She could feel the beat of the music in their steps. She found if she moved her clubfoot a little off-center, she could follow the steps without much trouble. Jack smiled down at her and increased the pace. She laughed and followed.
~ ~ ~
It was some time later that Ovolina, Charles and Treccia returned to the ballroom. Laughing at something Charles had said, they stopped stunned. On the dance floor, Letty was dancing with Jack, slowly compared to the other couples except Duncan who was slowly dancing with Miss Farthingale, Ovolina having introduced him to her. The two couples slowly dancing in the middle of the ring of quicker-paced dancers captured everyone’s attention. The music ended and the sisters rushed over to Letty, who was sitting down. Jack and Charles went off retrieving drinks.
Treccia grinned, falling into the seat next to her. “You were dancing!”
“Shush,” Letty whispered, wanting to put a hand over her sister’s mouth. “You don’t have to announce it to the world.”
“But you were dancing, with Lord Tremaine.”
“I can see there is nothing wrong with your eyesight—and your lungs.”
“Have you been practicing somewhere when we weren’t around?”
“Treccia, you know I can dance. I did with you teaching you how to dance.”
“Yes, but this is in public.”
Letty gave her a disgusted look and said, “Yes, and I am delighted about it.” Treccia gave her a studied look that warmed to a grin. Letty gave her a patient look, and changed the subject. “What have you all been up to?”
“Well, said Treccia, “we have been gambling, playing Whist in the card room. Ovolina won two shillings.”
“Did she then lose it?”
“No, silly. She immediately tossed them in her reticule and left the table to me. The other players were sorely put out that they didn’t have a chance to win it back. I however, only lost a shilling and ten pence after winning a pound and two.” Treccia grinned. “It was so exciting.”
Letty gave Charles a stern look as he returned. “I expect you to keep these innocents away from the cardsharps.”
Charles bowed. “I shall do better in the future, my lady. However, the cardsharps were happy to see your sisters leave.”
As they were chatting, a couple strolled up to them just as Jack returned with their drinks. Letty blanched. It was one of the couples from the croquet game. A Mr. and Mrs. Cornerstone. Jack greeted them and introduced them to Charles and Treccia.
Mrs. Cornerstone sat by Letty and said in a solicitous manner, “I hope you have recovered from your fall. You seem much better, even dancing. I thought it brave of you to continue the game when you were obviously favoring your foot.” She leaned in and said smiling, “It just shows that the women can win with any handicap.”
The group had a pleasant chat for a while and Mrs. Cornerstone gave Letty her card, saying she should call sometime.
Watching them leave, Letty placed the card in her reticule and looked at Jack who cocked his head, a roguish gleam in his eye. “Lady Mimolette, your mouth is open.”