Page 47 of The Austen Escape
“You are the picture of beauty and health tonight,” she said to me.
Herman patted his chest again. “I did not say this, but it is true. That was very wrong. Here I am talking about my own tie and I have not done the compliments of the evening.” He pulled my hand to his lips, and with a wink he kissed it.
“I didn’t feel neglected.” I twirled for them both. The deep-brown dress with its accents of red and rose billowed slightly as the weight of the embroidery kept the hem close to my slippers. As I spun, I noted all the other dresses glittering like pale gems in the candlelight, and I felt dark, dramatic—almost mysterious.
“And you...” I stopped daydreaming and regained my equilibrium. I tapped the jewels on Helene’s wrist. “You are very glamorous.”
“Why not?” She flourished her wrist. “Mrs. Jennings was rich, after all. Perhaps not this wealthy, but who’s to know? Here, have one.” She pulled off a huge bracelet circled in paste gems. If real, each diamond would have been at least ten carats.
“I don’t think Catherine Morland had any money.” I laughed as she fastened it on my wrist.
“It does not matter. Every girl needs a little diamond glitter.” She then patted her husband’s chest. “And my dear husband is a perfect Sir Walter, do you not think?”
“Did he look as dashing in his vest and neckcloth?” Herman stepped away before receiving an answer. He preened in the mirror above the mantelpiece and fluffed his neckcloth. He then ran his hands in slow, measured strokes down his chest.
“He’s a wonderful Sir Walter,” I agreed. “I’m reading that one right now. Austen’s description of him struck me; something aboutvanity being the beginning and the end of Sir Walter’s character. I liked the way she phrased that.”
Helene and I watched her husband for a long moment.
“Is he playing that up on purpose?” I whispered.
Helene shook her head and took a sip of her champagne. “That’s what makes it so enjoyable.”
Chapter 17
Istarted the evening angry and anxious. I ended it as close to content as I’d felt in... I couldn’t cast back to a time. Even Fridays out with work friends never felt so relaxed. After dinner, Gertrude led us to the ballroom merely to show us what was in store for the next evening. Mrs. Jennings had wanted a mere dance; Gertrude was planning a ball.
Isabel’s eyes brightened when she spied the grand piano in the corner. “One song. Can you play us one song, Mary?”
I looked at her. After the incident in high school, we had never talked about the piano again. It was as if we both knew it was a line we didn’t dare cross—our friendship wouldn’t survive.
As I walked to the piano I wondered if Nathan was now another such a line. If we would survive, not him, but the lie of him. I glanced down at my watch. Fourteen hours.
I selected a piece and began, not as adeptly as I would have liked. My fingers felt stiff and clumsy on the keys. Isabel turned the pages for me.
“I shouldn’t be doing this. This isn’t what these people paid for.”
“Hush. No one who has the pleasure of listening to you could find anything wanting.”
I compressed a smile. I only recognized Mr. Darcy’s line because it had involved a piano and I could relate to Lizzy in that scene. She knew full well the deficiencies in her playing, but like me, she hadn’t taken the time to practice. I focused on the music in front of me and imagined that’s what this was—a practice session.
At the last note I glanced up. Everyone had gathered near. Helene began to clap.
“Play another and we shall dance.”
Isabel sprang into action and led an impromptu lesson in nineteenth-century country dances, and I warmed to the music.
During my third piece, Isabel determined her pupils were ready to step out on their own. They paired up and she found herself without a partner. With a sigh she lowered herself onto the bench beside me and resumed turning the pages.
I almost felt sorry for her. Until halfway through “Turner’s Waltz,” when Grant arrived. I heard her gasp before I caught sight of him. He was stunning. There was no other way to say it. He was dressed in Regency-style regimentals. At least, I assumed the British army didn’t still wear such tall hats and bright-blue coats. He removed his hat and shot me a wry glance as he led Isabel from the bench beside me to the floor.
I returned to the music and was soon swept away by Turner, Haydn, Mozart, and an Irish jig. Lost within music I hadn’t played in the two years since my mom had died and hadn’t felt for years before that.
I added a final flourish to the jig, sending Clara into giggling fits while Aaron and Grant stomped and swung the women around like Texans in a bar dance. The Muellers confined themselves toclapping and an occasional foot tap—not because they were surly, but because they were exhausted. And Gertrude stood on the edge of it all with a small smile and bright eyes.
Yes, the music worked its magic, as did the people—Gertrude’s emerald-green silk with pearls woven through her silver hair; Helene’s diamonds dancing in the candlelight; my own wrist looking equally dazzling; the Lottes dancing, mesmerized by each other; and Isabel and Grant, dancing a final and closing waltz as Sonia and Duncan snuffed the candles in the ballroom.
After the others went upstairs, Gertrude and I sat back down and discussed the next day’s plans over a cup of hot cocoa. She brought me to the Blue Room to lay out Nathan’s clothes together.
