Danse De La Folie

by Sherwood Smith

  As she climbed into bed, she lay staring up at the blurred shapes of angels, she tried to banish the images of the evening, unexceptionable as they were.

  It was strange that her Cousin Philip—well established in town as the handsomest of men—stirred no such emotions in her. She valued him, she liked him, but she had never listened for his voice, or wished to sit close enough to catch the firelight glowing golden along the edges of his eyelashes.

  What did the term ‘handsome’ even mean? The marquess’s eyes were not nearly the deep green of his sister’s, or his smile the flashing, dimpled grin displayed by his younger brother. She had met many men with black hair, both curly and straight, and hazel eyes were to be found by the dozen, as were firm chins, high brows, and good limbs.

  His coat was well-brushed, very near to being shabby. Why should the sum of ordinary parts add to an extraordinary whole from whom the awareness of parting caused a regret sharp enough to term pain? She was only aware that he was the dearest man she had ever met.

  But he was promised to someone else.

  o0o

  After a sleepless night, St. Tarval rose with the sun and stayed busy until Ned came to find him. “Hey day, Carl, I’ve searched all over for you! Kit was looking for you—wants to bid you adieu.”

  The marquess said, “Tell her I will be there directly. I must wash my hands.”

  He was there to hand the ladies into the coach. He smiled, they smiled—though Kitty’s smile was teary—everybody smiled until the coach door was shut, and the driver nodded to the boy at the leader’s head to let go.

  As the coach rolled away, the marquess was seized by a sharp sense of regret. But he was accustomed to regret. It was a part of life. As he followed Ned back inside, he told himself that things were better this way; now he could school himself to duty.

  Inside the coach, Clarissa gripped her hands, controlling the impulse to press her nose to the glass for one last glimpse.

  After a time, Kitty’s soft voice broke the silence. “Are you unwell, Clarissa?”

  “I must confess that being confined in a closed coach can sometimes bring on the headache, but it is winter, and there can be no open carriage. Pay me no mind, I beg.”

  Kitty did her best to sympathize, and settled back, thoroughly enjoying the deep squabs of the cushions, and the hot brick on the sheepskin-covered floor.

  After a time the newness wore off a little, and as they passed through the familiar countryside, she began to nod. The night before, she’d scarcely slept a wink for excitement.

  For a time the sight of unfamiliar country was interesting, but after all it was much the same as the parish she knew: hills, trees, the snow-topped roofs. Clarissa’s eyes were closed. Kitty snuggled down deeper in the carriage rug, her eyelids drifted shut, and the next thing she knew, she woke when the carriage had ceased to move.

  Men’s voices shouted unintelligible words outside, amid laughter from one. Kitty looked around, startled awake, to discover Clarissa gathering the folds of her traveling cloak about her.

  “Have we reached your home?” Kitty asked.

  “Oh, no, we have a long way to go yet,” Clarissa replied.

  “It will be dark very soon. Where are we?”

  “I believe I recognized that bridge, which means we must be arriving at the posting house in Thames Ditton. I know my father keeps horses there. Mr. Bede—”

  The carriage door opened to a burst of cold air. Mr. Bede appeared, his nose red with cold, ready to hand them out.

  The carriage steps had been let down. Mr. Bede and Oliver—who had arrived the night before—were there at either side to make sure the young ladies did not slip and fall as they stepped to the slippery, slushy yard.

  Kitty followed Clarissa to the door, where the landlord stood bowing and smiling in a gratifying way. Clarissa did not seem to notice the bustle to make them welcome, but Kitty did, and enjoyed every moment as they were conducted to a parlor pleasantly warmed by a substantial fire.

  Clarissa sat down and pulled her gloves off.

  Kitty said, “Do you still have the headache? Shall we ask for a tisane?”

  Clarissa said, “It is nothing—it will soon pass off, thank you.”

  Kitty said everything that was polite, though she could see in the way Clarissa’s eyes narrowed that the headache was real.

  When Rosina appeared, and said that the bedchamber was ready, Clarissa excused herself to lie down for an hour, promising that she would be better company once she had rested her head.

  The parlor had been equipped with several back numbers of La Belle Assemblée. Kitty picked up the most recent of these, and began leafing through the fashion plates. She was much entertained by imagining herself in this or that mode, mentally subtracting various embellishments which the artist had seen fit to cumber the doll-like ladies depicted.

  She was startled to hear a female voice in the hall before the door was opened by an impatient hand.

  Kitty beheld a young lady in the muslin gown, mittens, and severe bonnet of a schoolgirl. This girl caught her breath on the sob and dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. “Oh! Pray excuse me, that is, I did not know...”

  With ready sympathy, Kitty said, “I assure you, it is of no consequence. Do you need help?”

  The girl, thus encouraged, stepped in, shut the door behind her, and burst into a noisy tears. “I wish you could,” she cried. “That hateful wretch. I hate him!”

  Kitty stared in amazement, then exclaimed, “Are you being abducted?” The moment the words were out she was embarrassed both by their unlikelihood and by the small surge of excitement that she felt.

  If the lady was discomposed by Kitty’s hopeful tones, she evidenced no sign. Her tear-drenched honey-brown eyes regarded Kitty in wide question, then narrowed in intent. “Yes,” she said briskly, the tears gone, the tremble vanished from her small mouth. “Do you perchance have a carriage? Are you about to depart? If I could escape this very instant, all Might Not Be Lost.”

  Kitty heard the capital letters, and her sympathies kindled. “We do have a carriage, that is, it is not mine, but I know my friend would be happy to help—”

  The door opened again. This time the entrant was a tall, powerfully built gentleman in a many-caped driving coat. He looked exactly like a Greek god. An angry one.

  And here at last is the fourth dancer, who was deeply chagrinned to open the door and find a stranger young lady within. “I beg your pardon—” he began.

  “Oh, no!” the schoolgirl cried.

  Kitty looked from one to the other, her mind leaping to the obvious conclusion—that this was an abduction.

  She heroically placed herself between the Innocent and the Ravisher, and turned to the former. “Is this your hateful wretch?”

  “Yes,” the girl cried, and once again burst into a storm of tears.

  “Bess—” the man attempted to speak again.

  This time he was interrupted by Kitty. “Wretch indeed! Why, you almost look old enough to be her father.”

  The man looked completely thunderstruck. Then color flooded his well-chiseled cheeks as he drew up in hauteur. “Ma’am, if you would kindly accord us a moment of privacy—”

  Though Kitty craved romance, she had never dreamed that she would attain the exalted heights of actually assisting in foiling a real abduction. If only the man wasn’t so handsome—but then handsome is as handsome does, as Kitty’s grandmother used to say rather too often.

  “If you intend to drag this child off, you must go through me,” Kitty stated head held high. And to the young lady, “What little protection I can offer you, make sure I shall.”

  “Beast!” Bess declared, peering past the protection of Kitty’s shoulder.

  “Coxcomb,” Kitty added. “Rake!”

  “Bess, what did you tell this lady?” the gentleman asked in a tone of extreme vexation.

  “Monster!” The young lady popped around long enough to retort.

  Thou
gh Kitty knew little about romance, she had enough experience with brothers to recognize a taunting tone. That was puzzling. If she were being abducted, why did Miss Bess sound like she was gloating?

  Kitty was about to frame a question when the door opened again, and Clarissa entered, saying, “I thought I heard a familiar voice —Philip?”

  “Oh, my,” Kitty breathed.

  “Bess?” Clarissa went on. “I thought I recognized the carriage in the yard, but I couldn’t be certain. How come you two here?”

  “Elizabeth!” the young lady declared, emerging with arms crossed.

  “I beg pardon, Cousin Elizabeth,” Clarissa said, with no evidence of surprise.

  A profound silence ensued, during which Kitty’s entire body flamed with painful prickles of embarrassment.

  Bess was the first to speak. “At least one of my relations is kind enough to call me Elizabeth, and not address me like I am a mere child,” she muttered.

  “Good day, Cousin Clarissa,” the gentleman said. “We are just arrived this moment.” He turned an exasperated glance Kitty’s way, but good manners constrained him from speaking until they were introduced.

  “Jupiter,” Kitty exclaimed, and blushed the more, thoroughly vexed with herself for permitting one of her brothers’ expressions to escape her lips. She turned a reproachful look on Bess. “It is quite wicked to tell untruths, particularly to strangers who are trying to help you.”

  Bess stamped her foot. “It is true. He has abducted me.”

  “Bess,” the gentleman said, in no tone of approbation.

  “I do not wish to go back to Bath,” Bess stated, and dissolved into tears.

  Clarissa advanced into the room, suppressing the urge to laugh. In her best company manner, she said, “may I make you all known to one another? Kitty, my cousins Devereaux. Cousin Bess—”

  “Elizabeth!”

  “I beg pardon. Cousin Elizabeth and Cousin Philip, may I present Lady Catherine Decourcey, who is accompanying me to Oakwood.”

  Mr. Devereaux made a stiff bow in response to Kitty’s equally stiff curtsy, then said in a low undervoice to Clarissa, “I must thank you. Your entrance interrupted the third farcical tragedy I have had to endure this day.”

  Kitty had been determined to remember her company manners, but that resolve was overwhelmed by a tide of embarrassment. With the freedom she used when talking to her brothers, “I daresay if you had not stepped in here looking just like a villain, without so much as a knock...”

  “Ma’am,” the gentleman responded, in accents of extreme chagrin. “I was referring to my unfortunate sibling, but in any case, I beg your pardon.”

  Clarissa interposed herself. “Perhaps, Kitty, if you would take Bess to wash her face and hands...”

  “I hate him,” Bess declared, sobbing loudly.

  Kitty was all too happy to get herself out of the room. She indicated the door to the angry girl, who said over her shoulder, “If you feel the need to send for the Bow Street Runners to guard the room, pray do so.” And seeing that this shot had not the effect that she had anticipated, Bess added, “No doubt if I were to die on the spot, you would be cast into high glee.”

  Kitty pulled the door shut, and drew the sniffling girl farther down the passage to. her bedchamber, where Bess flung her bonnet to the floor, and flounced to the only chair.

  Kitty picked up the bonnet, saying sympathetically, “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Oh, the stupidest thing.” Bess scowled. “I was sent down from Miss Battersea’s Academy for Young Gentlewomen, because that cat Arabella Campbell peached on me. And it was the most odious rapper, for I was not going to run off with M. Bonneau.”

  “Who?”

  “M. Bonneau, the French master. Several of us got up the silliest flirtation with him, all in fun, you know, for it made the lessons so much less tedious. But Arabella is jealous because the younger girls all like me better, and was so horrid, that I had to act, after which she said it was her duty to tell Miss Battersea, and so I was to keep my room in disgrace until I had copied out all of the Sermons to Young Women.”

  Bess paused to wipe her eyes on her sleeve. “But then I thought, I am nearly, almost sixteen, so why should I have to stay, and so I sneaked out after the post was delivered, and used my pocket money, and took the mail coach to my friend Margaret in London, and it was enormous fun, you cannot conceive, except for the old lady with the basket who kept poking me, and the man who ate onions, but I pretended to be an orphan, and then a French immigrant, escaped from the guillotine, and Margaret was in transports to see me, for she was sent down last winter, but then her horrid mother wrote to mine, and so my horrid brother came to get me, and...”

  Kitty stared with interest at Bess, who could not be five feet tall. She had tiny hands and feet, and wide, expressive light brown eyes. She reminded Kitty of a flower.

  “And all I can say is, in a better day, sixteen was quite old enough to be presented,” Bess finished.

  “Do you wish to be married so soon?”

  “Oh, no, I have no idea of being married. At least, not until I’ve had seasons and seasons of balls, and parties, and all the fun I should have. But mama declared that I must go back for at least two more years, and ordered Philip to take me back to school, and he would not so much as listen to any of my ideas.”

  “Such as?”

  “He could take me to Paris. If they want me to be expert in French, what could be better, now that everyone says there is to be peace at last? And I should like very much to see Madame Bonaparte, who everyone in the world says is the most beautiful of women. After a season there, I would be willing to go back to Miss Battersea’s, for then I should have something that is quite as good as Arabella’s horrid golden hair: a wardrobe of French clothes.”

  “What was the cause of the disgrace, may I ask?” Kitty asked.

  Bess eyed her, but saw only sympathy—that and the fact that this unknown “Lady Catherine” was far, far lovelier than Arabella Campbell could ever hope to be.

  “I vowed, if Arabella made one more fling at my brown hair, or called me Bess in that odious tone, I would put a toad in her bed, and she did, both! So I put a brace of toads in her bed. Nice, moist, fat ones.”

  Kitty said, “I quite sympathize. But it does not put your brother at fault, if he is executing your mother’s wishes.”

  She scowled. “He could as easily take me to Paris. I overheard him saying he might go to Italy, now that there was peace on the continent, and Paris is quite on the way. And expense is no matter, so why should he not?”

  Kitty made a sympathetic noise, which Bess found encouragement to go on. “But he refused! Then he said if I keep prosing on about despising the name ‘Bess,’ people would lose sympathy, and I said it was unfair, just because there has always been a ‘Bess’ in our family, ever since that horrid queen who cut off the head of the beautiful Mary Stuart, and I did not ask to be inflicted with it. And so Philip knows, and that is why I have, well, I have tried different names, but only a very, very few! When I was young and silly I insisted they call me Clothilde, and last year I wanted to be Rosamunda. Is that not the most romantical name? Ross-ah-mooon-da.”

  “Indeed, it’s very—”

  “You cannot be dowdy if you are a Rosamunda, but Miss Battersea said I must use my given name, and then Philip had the audacity to say he quite understood—that he never liked being saddled with Philip, but I probably would not like the formality of Elizabeth after a time—and I said it is quite different for men, and that he knows nothing about it, but however least he could lend me the money to go alone, for I would pay it back when I am five-and-twenty, which is when I will gain my fortune. Either then or if I marry, which, you know, is horridly unfair, because then it will just go into the hands of my husband, and I will not touch a cent of it. And if Mother didn’t keep me on the most beggarly allowance for pin-money, as if we had to ride in the poor-basket!”

  Kitty could not help glan
cing at Bess’s well-made traveling clothes, to the costly kid boots that she was scuffing on the floor, but she said only, “Is his appearance at your friend’s one of the tragedies to which he referred?”

  Bess fixed her gaze on a point somewhere over Kitty’s head. “No, well, yes, the first one. The second came after, when I jumped out of the carriage, for I thought it would be more fun to run off again. So I did. But the snow was so wet, and so cold, and it began snowing harder, and I had quite forgotten that I hadn’t a penny in my pocket, that I decided I might as well go back, only he’d gone in the wrong direction to look for me, thinking I was running back toward London, and so, by the time we found one another again, it was late, and he felt obliged to put up here for the night, as we often have done, when visiting my cousins in Surrey. And I could not bear the idea that he might ring a peal over me.” She eyed Kitty, her lip trembling. “You think I am hateful—spoilt. Do you?”

  “I allow that the provocation must have been extreme, Miss Elizabeth,” Kitty said diplomatically.

  “Oh, thank you for calling me Elizabeth.”

  Though she did not have sisters, Kitty had experienced Lucasta’s expertise in employing tears, and detected the signs that Bess might be inclined in the same direction. She hastened to say, “In any case, we shall assuredly join parties, as you are connections with Clarissa, so there will be no opportunity for lectures. Clarissa is far too kind for that.”

  “Very true,” Bess stated, sitting up a little straighter. “Philip has often said that he prefers Cousin Clarissa to most females, but then everyone says he dislikes most females, because they will chase after him, though I cannot imagine why.”

  Bess rose with alacrity, washed her hands and face, employed Kitty’s comb to tame her thick brown hair, and then smiled with sunny anticipation as they walked back to the parlor.

  While Bess had been employed in restoring her appearance to civility, Kitty had time to reflect on her faux pas. And before she had even set foot in London! At least, she told herself as she followed Bess into the room, the gentleman was soon off to Italy. Maybe he would go straight there from Bath, and Kitty would never have to see him again.