Miss Wilton's Waltz

by Josi S. Kilpack

  The argument was moot. Lenora had accepted a solitary life, but she would walk away from that in an instant if Mr. Asher’s arms were an alternative. Admitting it to herself was freeing, and foolish. Catherine would not last the week at Mrs. Henry’s school. Everyone knew it.

  The fact that her thoughts were racing from reasons to be with him to reasons to keep him at a distance was confusing. She liked order in her life, and Mr. Asher had thrown her life into chaos in more ways than one. But those gold flecks in his eyes. His hand at her waist. The way he’d focused so intently on her throughout their waltz.

  A sound to her left startled her, and she turned to see Mr. Asher at the base of the stairs. They held one another’s eyes across the darkness, and Lenora thought how very alone they were here.

  “I thought you might need my coat,” he said as he began undoing the buttons. “It seems the weather is turning faster than I expected.”

  “I cannot take your coat, Mr. Asher.” Lenora moved so she was sitting on the edge of the wall, facing him in her men’s trousers and knit cap. How she wished she were in a gown—blue—with her hair pinned up and a string of pearls at her throat.

  He continued unbuttoning his coat as he walked toward her. She stood and waited for him to come under the meager protection of the walnut tree.

  He stopped a few feet in front of her, his breath clouding around his mouth. “It’s getting colder,” he said. “The rain is coming harder. We cannot stay much longer, I’m afraid.”

  She hadn’t noticed the change of temperature or cadence of the rain.

  He swung the coat off his shoulders and around hers, and as he brought the collar together at her neck, she stepped toward him, bold as brass and yet calm as a summer’s morn. His hands stilled at her throat, the edges of the coat still in his hands.

  They stared at one another with only inches between them. The feelings and sensations of last evening’s waltz came back to her, testifying that what she’d felt had nothing to do with the dancing and everything to do with the two of them and what happened when the space between them disappeared.

  She lifted her chin as though by instinct, knowing somehow that it would serve as a request and feeling certain he would answer. She felt a sense of not being in her body, of watching this scene play out as though on stage.

  He will be leaving Bath soon, she told herself. All the more reason.

  She stared at him, the first flicker of fear that he would put her off beginning to grow when he took a step forward, his face relaxing as he let go of the coat. He reached up and took off her cap, then ran his hand along the side of her face. An expression of tenderness came over him, but he looked torn.

  “Lenora,” he whispered, and she was undone.

  She rose onto her toes and put her hand behind his neck as though she had guided a dozen men to kiss her before this very first wanton act of her life.

  She could smell the pipe smoke on his breath as his face lowered to hers. And then she could taste it.

  As Lenora reviewed her lesson before class the next morning, she could not suppress a smile. The memory of the night before was like a warm blanket, wrapping itself around her every time she reached for it. When would she see Mr. Asher again?

  After the kiss—the amazing, overwhelming kiss—he’d held her against him, and she’d slid her arms around his back. She’d listened to his heartbeat. He’d kissed her hair, and after too long and not nearly long enough, the sky had opened, and the cold could no longer be ignored. He’d held her hand up the stairs, then hung back to follow her home. It would not do to see two people in men’s clothing holding hands in the streets late at night. When she’d reached the gate to Aunt Gwen’s garden, they’d shared a look across the sidewalk, before she’d turned and gone through the back garden as though she were a princess being returned to her castle.

  Every moment since then had been woven with thoughts of him. His arms around her back. His lips against hers. The rain dripping off his hair and running down her neck. Part of her wished they could have verbally confirmed what had passed between them at the river. Another part felt that the moments were perfect just as they were, that words would have ruined the splendor. She considered sending him a note and asking him to meet her at the river again that night, and then shook her head in surprise at herself. Who would have ever guessed that Lenora Wilton would have such a secret as this? Who would have thought that such improper behavior could feel so deliciously good?

  When would she see him again? Certainly, she wouldn’t have to wait until next Sunday.

  “Miss Wilton.”

  Lenora looked up at Mrs. Henry and remembered that she was a music teacher today. Her first class would start in half an hour. She needed to focus.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Henry,” Lenora said to the headmistress, smiling. “What can I help you with?” She suddenly remembered that Mrs. Henry had been planning to meet with Catherine that morning to implement the point system. “How did things go with Catherine?”

  “Are you having personal relations with Mr. Asher?”

  Lenora felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at the older woman, only now noting the hard set of her face, the concern in her eyes. How did she know?

  “I—uh.” Lenora looked at the hardwood floor between where she sat and where Mrs. Henry stood, waiting for the answer Lenora never imagined having to give.

  “Have you been sneaking out at nights to see him? Have you been dressing as a man on the streets of Bath in order to meet with him undetected?”

  Bursts of shock and fear and humiliation filled Lenora’s head and chest. Mrs. Henry knew that much? How? Who could have told her? Mr. Asher? But he wouldn’t reveal her. Would he? He had blackmailed her. But that kiss, that connection . . .

  “Well, have you?”

  Lenora swallowed again. “How do you know this?”

  Mrs. Henry’s gray eyebrows shot up. “So it is true?” The displeasure in her voice made Lenora curl in upon herself and feel as though a hundred fingers were pointed her direction.

  “It is not true, or, rather, it is . . . but I do not sneak out at nights to see him.”

  “Were you with him last night? Alone on the riverbank, kissing him wantonly with no regard for your reputation or mine. I encourage you to think very hard before you answer. You were seen.”

  Seen? How? By whom?

  Lenora put her elbows on the desk and covered her eyes like a child who believed she was hidden if she could not see anyone else. All her mother’s lectures about respectability and living above reproach assailed her and closed her throat so she could not speak. Her heart raced. She felt dizzy and sick.

  “I cannot believe this,” Mrs. Henry said with a tone of disgust.

  Lenora kept her face in her hands and focused on her breathing, the feel of the hard floor beneath her feet, the temperature in the room. If she did not ground herself in this moment, she felt as though she might burst open, pieces of her flying in every direction.

  “My school is a paragon of respectability, Miss Wilton. Families send their daughters here from all over the country with the comfort of knowing that their girls will be protected from scandalous natures and nefarious persons. I made the expectations of your position here very clear. I chose to overlook your failed engagement and lack of experience due to both your excellent musical skills, which I thought would be nothing but a credit to my establishment, and the fact that your father is a man of the church. Now you have brought into question the character and virtue of the other teachers and our students. To say I am completely ashamed is to show the limitations of the English language. You will have your things moved from this premises immediately, and your name shall be struck from our establishment by the end of the day.”

  Lenora dropped her hands from her face and quickly focused on the window to her right, the desk before her, and the pianofortes on t
he side of the room—see three. She rested her hand first on the desk and then on the side of her chair—touch two. She inhaled the lingering scent of cinnamon buns from breakfast—smell one. Centered and grounded, she found her voice. “I am being dismissed?”

  “Your contract states that you will do nothing to embarrass the school, nor will you have relations with family members of our students. You have broken both creeds with your behavior.”

  Her contract said that? She didn’t remember, but would it have changed her actions if she had? Remembering the power of that kiss was answer enough. Nothing could have kept her from Mr. Asher’s arms last night. What passed between them was bigger than anything she’d ever felt in her life. Every other element of her existence had bowed to it, and she would not take back that moment for the world. Admitting so much, and actually choosing it over the life that until yesterday had seemed her only future, gave her strength.

  She took a deep breath. “Mrs. Henry, please let me explain.” And so she did. She told Mrs. Henry about her walks early in her stay in Bath and how they evolved into her wearing men’s clothing and walking at later hours to find the solitude she craved. She talked about Mr. Asher having discovered her at the river, quite by accident, and then offering to escort her. She did not mention he’d blackmailed her into giving Catherine special treatment—that would reflect poorly on both of them.

  “I did not go out last night with any expectation of misbehavior, Mrs. Henry, but, yes, I kissed him when he brought me his coat.” Her cheeks burned. Speaking such private things out loud gave them a tinny sound, like something cheap and disposable. “I did not remember the part of my teaching agreement about not having relations, but I understand that I violated your trust all the same. I am shocked that someone saw us, and I am humiliated to have been reported on. But I am not a wanton woman, and I am very, very sorry for any ill reflection I have made on you or your school.”

  “I gave you a chance.” Mrs. Henry’s voice was sad.

  Tears filled Lenora’s eyes to know she’d disappointed this woman who had been so good to her. “I am so sorry. Perhaps I can speak to whoever saw us and explain.”

  “The letter I received was anonymous. The sender feared repercussions if I knew his or her identity.”

  Repercussions from Mrs. Henry? Then it must be a teacher or student. She felt some relief that it had not been a town gossip who might spread the word far and wide, thus damaging Lenora’s reputation publicly. But someone had wanted to damage her nonetheless. Should she fight to keep her position? She thought of the kiss and all that it meant to her. Would she regret leaving her position to be with Mr. Asher? A modicum of peace settled within her. She was still upset and embarrassed, but maybe, just maybe, this was an impetus to something better. Lenora took a steadying breath and rose to her feet, determined to be calm.

  “Might I step down from my position rather than be dismissed?” She faced Mrs. Henry across her desk. “I can leave immediately if you wish, or I could stay on until a new teacher is found to take my place.”

  “I cannot employ a teacher embroiled in scandal, Miss Wilton.”

  “Falling in love is a scandal?” Lenora said, boldness loosening her tongue. She had kissed Mr. Asher with all the passion of her soul, so surely she could speak plainly to Mrs. Henry. Her future had changed, everything had changed, and the knowledge was unbelievably invigorating.

  “Publicly kissing an engaged man most certainly is.”

  The world stopped. Lenora did not breathe as she fell back into her chair. Only one word bubbled up in her throat. “Engaged?”

  Aiden sat in Mrs. Henry’s office with his hands in his hair as the headmistress explained the letter she’d received and her dismissal of Miss Wilton that morning. Mrs. Henry was horrified but willing to overlook his part in it so they could make one final attempt at Catherine’s education. The point system would still be implemented and move forward as planned, only without Miss Wilton’s participation.

  Aiden felt like the very worst of men.

  “Must Miss Wilton be turned out?” he asked. “I am more the guilty party in this.” How had he let this happen?

  “I cannot overlook her participation. She violated her contract and the morality of this school.” She shook her head. “But I am entertaining the idea of allowing her to resign rather than be dismissed so as to protect our reputation. I told her I will send my decision to her aunt’s house in the morning.”

  “She has already removed from the school, then?” Aiden asked. He wanted to talk to her, needed to talk to her.

  Mrs. Henry did not answer, but then she did not need to. Miss Wilton was gone. Because of him. “You must promise me that you will have no other relations with any other teachers,” Mrs. Henry said. Did she think him a libertine who regularly preyed on innocent schoolteachers? He felt sick. “And, I would strongly suggest that you take your engagement to Miss”—she looked at the paper in front of her—“Keighly to the next level and make an honest man of yourself.”

  He lifted his head, a chill running through him.

  He’d told Mrs. Henry he was engaged when he’d first corresponded with her regarding Catherine’s possible enrollment. He had wanted to demonstrate that he was doing his best to give Catherine a solid foundation. But Aiden hadn’t used Miss Keighly’s name in any of his letters or conversations with Mrs. Henry. There was only one person in the entire city of Bath who knew it.

  “I would like to speak to Catherine,” he said.

  Mrs. Henry frowned. “She is in class, Mr. Asher. Seeing as how we have just implemented the point system, I feel it essential that we keep her to a schedule.”

  He sat up straighter and held the headmistress’s eyes. If she wasn’t going to dismiss him or Catherine after such a scandalous situation, she wouldn’t do so for his wanting to talk to his niece. “I would like to speak to Catherine—now.”

  Ten minutes later, Mrs. Henry showed Catherine into her office, where Aiden waited with barely restrained fury. Mrs. Henry said nothing as she left uncle and niece alone.

  “You followed me,” he said firmly, arms crossed as he stared at her. “You followed me and then reported to Mrs. Henry so that Miss Wilton would be turned out. Who helped you write the note?”

  Catherine blinked up at him with innocent, wide eyes. “Miss Wilton was turned out?” she asked, her expression shocked. “Whatever for?”

  It was her clasping her hands to her chest with exaggerated drama that completely gave her away.

  “I should whip you for this,” Aiden said through his teeth, unsure if he had ever felt so violently angry in his life. Catherine had done this with a full understanding of the consequences and she didn’t care. He’d never imagined she would do something so malicious, even at her worst.

  Catherine dropped her hands to her sides and leaned forward, every degree of softness gone from her face. “Then whip me,” she said. “Everyone else has.”

  Her response shocked him, drained away some of his anger, but not enough that he could turn his attention away from her admission the way he suspected she wanted him too. He held her eyes, thinking back to what Lenora had once said about something being very wrong with his niece. “Why would you do this to her? She’s done nothing but try to help you.”

  Catherine relaxed, shrugged her shoulders, and walked around Mrs. Henry’s desk, where she flopped into the chair, looking completely at ease.

  Aiden sat in his chair and stared at her, wanting so badly to understand her motivation. Was it because of the point system? Because she believed that if she ruined this chance, she could be tutored in Cheshire?

  And yet the particulars were impossible to pin down. How could she have followed them without being noticed? Why was it last night of all nights that both he and Miss Wilton let down their defenses?

  Catherine propped her elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her hand as t
hough terribly bored. With her other hand, she traced the wood grain with her finger. He watched her for a few seconds, overwhelmed by defeat.

  He wanted to lean over her, and tell her that if she wished to be whipped, he’d do it—but he couldn’t. Something—the same something that had prompted him to come to England and propose marriage to Hazel Keighly and buy Catherine’s way into this school and blackmail Miss Wilton for help—held him back.

  Catherine had been beaten by the woman responsible for her care, had been locked in closets as a form of punishment. No one had wanted her after his mother died. Had the rejection broken something inside of her, much as war broke too many soldiers? Would Catherine not allow herself to trust anyone for fear they would hurt her eventually?

  “Do you truly not care about what you’ve done? You have been cruel to people, Catherine,” he said in an even tone he knew she did not expect. “You have hurt someone very special to me.” There, he’d said it, and the truth reverberated in his chest.

  She looked up, her eyes still hard. “More special than your fiancée?”

  “I will not discuss that,” he said, sick to his stomach at the reminder. An engaged man did not forget his fiancée. He did not kiss a woman when he’d promised himself to another woman.

  “I like Miss Keighly,” Catherine announced. She’d only met Miss Keighly twice, but she had responded well to Miss Keighly’s confident manner, turning meek instead of antagonistic. “I think what you have done to her is perfectly shameful. She is a far better match for you than stodgy Miss Wilton.” She made a face as though she’d eaten rancid cheese.

  Was that her motivation? She preferred Miss Keighly to Miss Wilton and wanted to thwart a growing attraction? To ask would extend the topic, and Aiden was quite finished with it for the present. She was attempting to control adult situations, and he would not play into it.