The Quiet Gentleman

Her hand was presently claimed by Gervase for the first quadrille. She performed her part correctly, but since she had never danced it but under the guidance of her instructor, she was nervous of making some mistake in its various figures, and had little leisure for attending to the Earl’s attempts to amuse her. He, as was to be expected of an officer under the Duke of Wellington’s command, was an excellent dancer, performing all the most difficult steps with ease and grace. She exclaimed naively at the assurance with which he led her into the grande ronde; he told her that she wanted only practice to make her an unimpeachable exponent of the art: a compliment which emboldened her to attempt the pas d’été with more confidence than she might otherwise have felt.

But a severe set-back awaited the Earl. When the musicians, under his private instructions, struck up for a waltz, no persuasions could prevail upon Marianne to stand up to dance. Her Mama’s instructions had been explicit: she might, if solicited to do so, dance the quadrille, but on no account must she waltz. Neither the Earl nor Lord Ulverston could induce her to contravene this prohibition: to be seen to waltz before she had received the accolade of the approval of the hostesses of Almack’s must set upon any debutante the indelible stigma of being a fast girl. Lady Bolderwood had foreseen the danger, and had guarded against it: although some license might be permitted to a young lady making her appearance at a private ball, she was too shrewd not to know that there would be jealous matrons enough to report in influential circles that Miss Bolderwood was not quite the thing.

Marianne’s docility might disappoint her male admirers, but it did her no disservice in the eyes either of Lady St. Erth or of her ladyship’s acquaintance. She was held to be a very modest girl by at least three mothers of promising daughters; and the most delightful, unaffected girl possible by those ladies anxious to marry their younger sons creditably.

Since Miss Morville happened to be standing beside Marianne when the Earl begged for the honour of her hand in the waltz, good manners compelled him to turn next to her. She accepted the offer with her usual composure, curtseying slightly, and allowing him to lead her on to the floor. Here she surprised him by proving herself to be an experienced dancer, very light on her feet, and so well-acquainted with the various steps that she performed them as though by instinct, and was able to converse sensibly while she did so. Under no illusions as to the value of the compliment paid her by her host in asking her to stand up with him while many ladies of more consequence awaited that honour, she said seriously: “If only you had mentioned the matter to me, I could have told you that there was no possibility of Miss Bolderwood’s waltzing, my lord, and then, you know, you need not have commanded the musicians to strike up for one.”

“How do you know that I did so command them, ma’am?” he asked, smiling in spite of himself.

“Well, I did not, because Lady St. Erth does not like to see it danced; and I am very sure Martin did not, because he has never learnt the steps.”

“You are correct in your surmise,” he acknowledged. “And I am going to bespeak another waltz. You dance delightfully, Miss Morville!”

“I have had a great deal of practice,” she said. “I am very much obliged to you for the courtesy, but I believe you ought rather to invite Lady Firth to dance with you.”

“Miss Morville, you may manage the arrangements for the ball, but you shall not manage my conduct at it!” he told her. “I have already stood up with Lady Firth for the boulanger, and I consider myself now at liberty to please myself. I hope you don’t mean to refuse me the pleasure of another waltz with you!”