The Perfect Waltz

by Anne Gracie

  Sebastian was. Not having known them since birth, the dowagers held no terrors for him, but the thought of a house full of forty or more females and himself and Sir Oswald the only males . . . The club was infinitely appealing.

  Two hours later they returned to Providence Court. They were admitted by the ancient butler, who showed them into the library. “Miss Merridew says to tell you gentlemen that they are running a trifle late. If you would wait here . . .” He gestured to the comfortable seats. “Miss has ordered refreshments for you.” As he spoke, the door opened again, and a footman entered the room carrying a tray on which a plate of sandwiches, several slices of pie, a plum cake, and some biscuits had been set out. Another footman followed with wine and ale.

  Sebastian eyed the supplies. “Clearly we are in for a long wait.”

  Giles took a sandwich and glanced warily at the door. “As long as that door stays closed and hordes of dowagers aren’t released.” He paused and cocked his ear upward. “Seems to be a lot of noise for a tea party. You don’t think they’ve cracked open a few bottles, do you?”

  “For girls not fifteen years old? I hardly think so.” Sebastian listened, his brow furrowed. “It does sound quite noisy, though.”

  They had made good inroads into the sandwiches and ale when the front doorbell jangled a peremptory demand. A moment later, a female voice was raised with some insistence. Giles cocked his head. “That’s Lady Elinore’s voice. Er, I think.” He rose and stepped out into the hall. Sebastian followed.

  Lady Elinore was addressing the butler in high dudgeon. “It was agreed that the girls would be returned some forty-five minutes ago, and they have not returned! They must be returned, immediately.”

  Giles sauntered forward. “Afternoon, Lady Elinore. Delightful to see you. What an outfit you’re wearing! What color would you call it—gray, perhaps? Amazing. Makes you look quite—er. And that bonnet, truly appalli—er, apparel for the Rational. Your milliner is a brave creature! Or did you get it in a job lot with those girls upstairs? Charmed.” He picked up her clenched fist, kissed it with great gallantry, then started with assumed surprise. “Gray gloves by George! What a devilishly clever notion. Contrast, that’s the job!”

  She snatched back her hand crossly and said to Sebastian, “Those girls are supposed to be at their lessons by now.” She tipped her head on one side. “Listen to that racket! One would think I’d come to Bedlam instead of a gentleman’s residence!” She turned to the butler, “Be so good as to inform Miss Merridew that Lady Elinore Whitelaw is here to collect the orphans. Immediately.”

  The butler wheezed off.

  “Like a sandwich, Lady Elinore? Glass of ale? Slice of pie?”

  “Hush, Giles,” said Sebastian, perceiving that Lady Elinore was seriously discomposed. “There is no need to worry, Lady Elinore. The girls are perfectly safe.”

  She gave a sniff. “Miss Merridew promised they would be back nearly an hour ago, and they are not. It is of the utmost importance that those girls live smooth, uneventful lives. Only then can we retrieve them from their past!”

  “A little tea, an outing, a few cakes,” Sebastian said in a soothing voice. “What can it hurt?”

  As he spoke a bell tinkled above them. Miss Hope Merridew stood on the landing, looking down into the hallway. “Lady and gentlemen,” she announced gaily, “I give you the young ladies of the Tothill Fields Institution for Indigent Girls.” She turned and said, “Go along, girls.”

  The girls came downstairs, two by two, in a long, neat line, the same way they had entered the house nearly three hours before. But there all resemblance ended. The older girls came first.

  Lady Elinore gasped.

  “Oh, I say,” murmured Giles.

  Sebastian blinked. They were not the same girls. Pinched nervous faces now glowed with excitement and pride. Their tight buns of scraped-back hair had disappeared, and ringlets and curls had sprung forth, bearing ribbons or silk flowers or fashionable hair ornaments.

  The girls were still clad in the gray dresses they’d arrived in, Sebastian realized, but there was no resemblance to the shapeless dull garments of before. These gowns fitted their young owners better, and each was individually decorated with braid or colored ruffles, lace trim or knots of ribbons, and new, contrasting buttons. In some dresses, panels of colored material had been inserted; in others, the collar and cuffs had been covered with a bright hue and a colored ruffle applied to the hem. Each dress was now unique to its wearer and almost bore the look of a fashionable garment.

  Each girl walked with shy pride, like a young rose unfurling her petals.

  The girls floated down the stairs as if walking on air, holding their skirts carefully in one hand and their bonnet in the other. Their movements were accompanied by a faint swishing sound that Sebastian could not identify. He frowned, trying to work it out.

  “Silk petticoats,” Giles murmured. “If I’m not mistaken, each one of them is wearing a silk petticoat that they didn’t arrive with. Nothing like silk underclothes to make a female feel feminine! Have to take my hat off to Miss Merridew—it’s a miracle. Never seen such a transformation. Gray mice into—”

  “Birds of paradise!” snapped Lady Elinore. “After all we’ve done to save them from this!”

  “What balderdash,” Giles retorted. “Save them from what? A bit of braid and a feather or two?”

  “It is much more than braid and feathers, it is—”

  “Both of you be quiet!” said Sebastian in a voice that brooked no argument. “If there is any difference of opinion here, it will be dealt with in private and not in front of these children!”

  The older girls reached the hallway and gathered in a circle, tying their bonnets on carefully over their new hair-styles, awaiting the younger ones. Hope tinkled her bell again, and down they scampered, a dozen little girls, aged six to ten, descending the stairs a little more excitedly, a little less gracefully, their newly curled ringlets bouncing with exuberance. Their dresses had also been refurbished and brightened with pretty braid and ribbons, and their bonnets also sported daisies and roses and satin ribbons, but it was apparent that the clothing was not the highlight of the day for this group.

  Each little girl clasped something precious to her chest; Sebastian could not see clearly what. He caught a glimpse of wool, a gleam of satin, a froth of lace. The last little girl came clattering down the steps, still in her too-big boots. It was the child Hope had talked to in the dining room that time, May, the child whose so-called birthday it had been.

  Today her angular little face was incandescent with joy. She hugged something to her skinny little body possessively. Then she saw Lady Elinore. Her sharp little face lit with fierce delight. “Look, m’lady. Look what I got!” she shouted.

  And Sebastian saw what she was was carrying, what each of the little ones carried with such joy and such care: a doll.

  He glanced up at the landing. Miss Hope Merridew was watching the little ones, smiling. Even from here he could see how her eyes shimmered with tears.

  Sebastian swallowed convulsively.

  The little ones rushed over to the older girls to show them their dolls. To Giles’s consternation, they were followed down the stairs by a group of middle-aged and elderly ladies, who fell upon Giles in glee.

  “Giles, dear boy, how is your mother? Have you seen our handiwork? Don’t these little gels look pretty now?”

  “Good gad, if it isn’t little Giles Bemerton! My how you’ve grown! Last time I saw you, you were covered in spots, poor little fellow!” An elegant raddled old lady reached up and pinched his cheek.

  “Giles, you young rascal. I didn’t know you were in on this. Splendid results. Have to say, didn’t think it could be done. Took us all afternoon—don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself more! Tell me, how is your dear mother?”

  Giles bowed and attempted to smile and respond with some semblance of grace. It was difficult to remain a sophisticated man of the world when your cheek was be
ing pinched by old ladies.

  Sebastian, preserving a wooden countenance as best he could, thought the stag-at-bay expression suited his friend beautifully.

  Lady Augusta interrupted the festival-of-Giles. “Maudie, you remember Agatha Pilton? This is her daughter, Lady Elinore Whitelaw.”

  Instantly the gaggle of old ladies surrounded Lady Elinore and began to pelt her with questions. From what they were saying, the old ladies had developed a new passion in life: orphans.

  Giles cravenly abandoned Lady Elinore to her fate. He wriggled past the knot of dowagers and said to Sebastian in a low voice, “Come on, Bas. Let’s get these children home before the storm breaks.”

  Sebastian glanced at the clear bright sky.

  “Not that sort of storm, cloth-head!” Giles jerked his chin. “Lady Elinore. She might be currently buried under a landslide of dowagers, but you saw her face! She’s not going to take this lying down. She’s going to have to have it out with Miss Merridew. So let’s get the audience out of the way.”

  Sebastian nodded and catching sight of James the footman in the hallway, beckoned him over. In minutes Sir Oswald’s carriage was at the front gate, and James was loading it with orphans. Giles and Sebastian’s vehicles followed. Giles would have driven his, but Sebastian detained him.

  “Sorry, Bas, have an urgent appointment, with my . . . hatter.”

  “Coward.”

  “Absolutely.” Giles agreed.

  Sebastian pleasantly maintained his grip on his friend’s arm until Giles said, “Oh, very well. My groom shall take them.”

  Moments later the ladies’ carriages started to arrive, and one by one they took their leave, thanking Miss Hope Merridew for the splendid afternoon’s fun, Sir Oswald for the refreshments, exhorting Giles to be a good boy and not worry his poor mother so much, and ordering Agatha Pilton’s child to come and visit them soon! A hush fell in the hallway as the last of them left.

  “The calm before the storm,” whispered Giles. Lady Elinore’s face was pale except for two bright pink spots in her cheeks. Her lips were compressed. Her eyes snapped with anger.

  Lady Augusta, perfectly well aware of the tension in the room, declared, “Oswald, I’m exhausted, take me upstairs and give me something to drink!”

  “This is what comes of maudlin’ your insides with tea, Gussie. I shall order you a nice herbal draft—”

  Lady Augusta snorted. “I don’t want herbs, Oswald! They’re very well in their place, but right now I need brandy!”

  They went off, Great Uncle Oswald expostulating about the evils of brandy and the virtues of herbal tinctures and Lady Augusta scoffing and demanding good French cognac. Grace and Faith retreated to the nursery to tidy up. Sebastian, Lady Elinore, Giles, and Hope were left in the hallway. Sebastian ushered them into the library.

  Lady Elinore glared at Hope. “I suppose you are proud of what you have done!”

  “Yes, actually. I am.” Hope said. “Didn’t you see how happy those children were?”

  “That is not the point.”

  “That is exactly the point. What harm can a few hours of happiness and a few bits and bobs do?”

  “A great deal!”

  “A great deal of good, I think.”

  “I allowed this outing against my better judgment, and I see now how right I was. Those girls will never settle back down to their routine.”

  “Good,” said Hope.

  “How dare you just waltz in, with your frivolous tonnish ways, thinking you know what is best for girls like these?”

  “I was once a girl very much like them.”

  Lady Elinore scoffed. “Very much like them, my foot! You may be closer to them in age than I, but you’ve led a completely sheltered life! What would you know about the sort of hardship and abuse my girls have suffered?”

  Hope wanted, oh so much, to give Lady Elinore a sharp set-down, but she was very aware of Mr. Reyne standing by, a troubled frown in his face. He looked so uncomfortable by the rising atmosphere of feminine hostility between herself and Lady Elinore that Hope forced herself to keep a check on her temper. She responded calmly, “My life has not been so sheltered as you think.”

  A voice from the door interrupted her. “Hardship and abuse? My sister knows all about it! Our grandfather used to beat her mercilessly. He did his best to crush her spirit.” Faith came forward and grabbed her sister’s hand and held it up. “You may have noticed—”

  “No, Faith,” Hope tried to pull her hand away. “This is not about me.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s why you did what you did today.” Faith turned to the others and explained, “My sister and I are mirror twins: where I have a mole on my left shoulder, hers is on the right shoulder. Where I am right-handed, she is left-handed.”

  Lady Elinore sniffed. “So?”

  “My grandfather believed Hope to be evil, because she used her left hand by preference. He claimed her left hand was a tool of the Devil. And so she spent most of her childhood with that hand tied behind her. Not gently.” Faith grabbed Hope’s hand.

  Hope tried to pull away. It was a part of her life she wanted to forget, but Faith held tight. She brandished Hope’s left wrist. “Tied with ropes by my grandfather so tightly that they rubbed her flesh raw. From the time she was a little girl, newly orphaned at the age of seven, until the day we escaped, two years ago. So do not dare say she knows nothing of hardship!”

  There was a long, embarrassed silence. Hope uncomfortably pulled her hand away. She said quietly, “I am sorry, Lady Elinore, if what I did distressed you.”

  Lady Elinore said in a stiff voice, “I am sorry for what you endured as a child. Nevertheless, your actions were ill thought out and reckless and have severely undermined the entire basis of this institution and all our good work with these girls.”

  Hope raised her brows. “How so? A few bits to furbish up their clothes? A doll for the little ones?”

  Lady Elinore snorted in a genteel fashion. “There is nothing Rational in a few bits of material with a face painted or embroidered on!”

  Hope interrupted. “It is not about Rationality but about heart. It is about a child, who has no one in all the world, finding comfort in the lonely darkness of the night by hugging a doll.”

  “It is just a bit of rag! They can as well hug the blanket they sleep in.”

  Hope stared at her incredulously. “You’ve never had a doll, have you, Lady Elinore?”

  Lady Elinore looked uneasy. “Of course not! Sentimental nonsense! Playing with dolls is nothing but a foolish waste of time.”

  Hope shook her head. “A doll is so much more than a bit of material and a few buttons. A doll becomes a person, a friend, a sister, a confidante. A doll is something of your own—completely private and solely yours, someone to love and hug and tell your dreams and fears to.”

  Lady Elinore looked skeptical. “What’s the point?”

  “Comfort. Love. Reassurance,” said Hope softly. “Have you never lain in your bed, awake in the middle of the night, perhaps with the rain falling and the wind whistling? Feeling lost and unloved and alone . . .”

  Lady Elinore looked so uncomfortable Hope said quickly, “I don’t mean you, specifically. We all have moments like that, children, too. The middle of the night can be the loneliest time. I remember a time when I was a child when I thought that life could get no more miserable, that not a soul in the world loved us or cared about us . . .”

  There was a hushed silence in the room, as everyone there remembered . . .

  Giles Bemerton, sent off to school at the age of seven, small, alone, and vulnerable, tortured by the older boys . . .

  Lady Elinore, who felt closest to her mother at the British Museum . . .

  Sebastian Reyne, a young boy shouldering a man’s task, trying so desperately to keep a family together, failing, and losing everything in the process . . .

  For several moments, nobody spoke. Lady Elinore took a small starched square of white linen from her ret
icule and blew into it. “Very well,” she said. “I accept your argument in favor of the dolls. But as for what you did to their clothing! You have no idea of the dangerous tendencies you have stirred up!”

  At her words, much of Hope’s sympathy for Lady Elinore began to dissolve. Her temper rose. “Dangerous tendencies? I had not realized a few trimmings and some buttons could have such a dramatic effect.”

  Lady Elinore’s chin took on a stubborn jut. She threw up her hands. “The effect was obvious! Did you not see?”

  Hope gave Lady Elinore a narrow look. “I saw a group of happy young girls who look a vast deal prettier than they did yesterday. What did you see?”

  “Girls garbed with the purpose of attracting male attention! Girls on the verge of corruption!”

  “Rubbish!”

  “You may scoff, but even Mr. Bemerton noticed it.”

  Giles held up his hands defensively. “Leave me out of this.”

  “But you did!” Lady Elinore insisted. “You saw how they went in looking like . . . like—what was it you said?”

  “Like quiet little mice,” he offered.

  “Yes, and they came out looking like birds of paradise.”

  “No!” Giles stood up. “You said that, Elinore. Not I.”

  She looked shocked at his contradicting her. “But it was true!”

  “It was not true! How can you say such a thing?” Hope began. “They are merely—”

  Lady Elinore turned on her. “What you don’t realize is that many of these girls were rescued from a life of depravity! From houses of ill fame!”

  At this, Sebastian intervened. “Lady Elinore, I do not think it is proper for us to sully Miss Merridew’s ears with tales of depravity—”

  “Sully my ears!” exclaimed Hope in sudden fury. “What complete and utter nonsense! If some of these poor children have managed to survive the depravity inflicted on them by others, then I can certainly endure hearing about it!”

  Sebastian looked at her in shock.