by Dina Sleiman
Constance put her hands to her hips. “Through ballet we create a dancer from the inside out. When you can maintain the proper shape, then we shall move. Your walks improved dramatically today. Let’s try some simple pliés and relevés in this position. A bend of the knees. Observe how they open to the sides and create a diamond.” She pulled her skirts tight and did her best to demonstrate. They had chosen their loosest, shortest morning dresses for the training, but still it could be a challenge to detect the proper form in the knees with such clothing.
The girls attempted the maneuver, and as she expected, poked their rears out behind them.
“No, no, no.” She sounded like Molyneux of a sudden. “Like so. Imagine you are traveling up and down in a tube and must keep your body in a straight position. Head over hips over feet.”
The girls tried again with more success.
“Now pulling your stomach inward and holding it strong as we discussed, rise gently on your toes…and back down.”
They repeated the variation of relevés and pliés several times to her counts. How nice it would be if Mrs. Beaumont could accompany them on an instrument, but the spoken rhythm worked well enough. “Good, now hold in relevé and balance. Hands overhead in high fifth position, please.”
To her shock and delight, mayhem did not ensue.
“Derrière in, Dolly,” called Mrs. Beaumont, although Dolly’s position showed marked improvement.
“Lovely!” Constance clapped when they completed the exercise. “Tomorrow we shall attempt it holding a chair for a ballet barre and add more complexity to the sequence.”
“Now might we move from this spot, Miss Cavendish?” Dolly begged, clasping her hands together and shaking them before her plump face.
Perhaps there was something to be said for actual physical exertion. Although the girls were not unacceptably round, they would move far lighter on their feet with less excess weight. They had trimmed down a bit in the last two weeks, and a few more pounds would not hurt.
“Fine,” Constance said, moving in front of the girls. “But tomorrow you shall plié, relevé, and tendu until your derrières ache.” The girls giggled again.
“Let’s work on the pas de bourrée. It is similar to a step we used in the country dance and the basis upon which we shall later build the waltz.”
“Oh, brilliant!” Mrs. Beaumont called from the corner, laying aside her novel. She clapped her hands together. “Now we arrive at the good stuff.”
Constance turned to her and smiled. “I assure thee, Mrs. Beaumont, it is all the good stuff—although this shall no doubt be more enjoyable to watch.”
She demonstrated the basic down, up, up movement in a side-to-side pattern. When she turned to observe, the girls did not fumble, but continued the step. “Very nice, although you must strive to maintain the posture we’ve worked on all day and the point of the toes.”
Both girls made the adjustments while they danced. “Good.” Far from perfect, but as good as could be expected. Constance turned to the front again. “Now let’s travel it by continuing the side-to-side step but moving forward like so.” The twins followed her about the room several rotations with the graceful, gliding steps in three-quarter time.
“Molly, toes out, please,” said Mrs. Beaumont, “and, Dolly, chin up and tilting with the motion as Miss Cavendish’s.” Constance bit back a smile. She supposed the woman paid her enough to interfere as much as she liked.
When they reached Mrs. Beaumont on the third round, she stood and applauded. “Bravo, bravo!”
Constance joined in her praise. “Excellent work, ladies. Go ahead and have some refreshment while I speak with thy mother for a moment.” The girls scurried off.
“Absolutely astonishing, Miss Cavendish. I would not believe the change that has come over those girls in a short time had I not seen it for myself. I’ve unearthed quite a treasure in you.”
Constance patted her brow with a handkerchief. “My thanks, Mrs. Beaumont.”
“And that waltz. What a lovely step. I can’t wait to see it performed.”
“It’s similar to a cotillion but with the movement thou observed and the close holds between the partners.”
“Yes, the ones called scandalous.” Mrs. Beaumont wiggled her brows. “Do you think them so, Miss Cavendish?”
“I’ve never seen them performed so, although I imagine given a randy set of partners they might become a bit provocative.” A wave of embarrassment overtook her. She had likely danced it so with Robbie on that night long ago. Constance looked down at her toes.
“Have you given much thought yet to the issue of how to teach it?”
Ah, now was not the moment to be demure. Constance looked Mrs. Beaumont in the eye. “I think we must endeavor to prepare at least a number of the attendees, the young sons and daughters of thy neighbors, perhaps. Those of an age with the twins.”
“That would be perfect. But still, how shall we accomplish it. We’ve few enough dance instructors in the area. Often older family members simply teach the children so far away from civilization. And I doubt anyone but you and Robbie, perhaps Terrence Sugarbaker, know the steps. They were on the continent together, you know.”
Interesting. “Nay, I did not.” She maneuvered the conversation back to the matter at hand. “But I think what we must do is hold a cotillion class, in a central location such as Charlottesville. At an assembly hall, if there is one.”
“I’m afraid there is not just yet. Thus the church services in the courthouse.”
Constance tapped her chin. “Then at a large home near town, perhaps.”
“That I could provide. The Mayfairs’ home would do quite nicely. They’ve a spacious foyer suitable for balls.” Mrs. Beaumont sighed in relief. “But wait, you haven’t mentioned who shall teach the classes.”
“Oh dear. I suppose it must be me. I did teach group lessons in Richmond—although I’d hate to give up time with the twins. We could hold the classes in the late afternoons, perhaps Tuesdays and Thursdays. And they could attend for the additional practice. They’d have partners aplenty.”
Mrs. Beaumont took Constance’s hands in her own and shook them with fervor. “Thank you. Thank you, Miss Cavendish. What a relief. I am so glad you are willing to take on this challenge. I shall see that your pay reflects these additional duties. Never fear.” The woman smiled with satisfaction, as if the idea had been all her own.
“Thou are very welcome, Mrs. Beaumont. It will be a pleasure to assist thy family in this way.” Not to mention Constance’s own family. She would write them this very day with the good news. Today was Thursday, and only on Monday had she sent word of her settled employment. They would be so pleased. She would be introduced to Charlottesville society. Establish herself as instructor to the whole region. This would finally be the fresh start they’d dreamed of for years.
If only Mother could be convinced to move to Charlottesville.
She would engage wisdom in her wording and send the letter to Patience at the mercantile. Given time, Mother would acquiesce. She simply must.
“That was quite a productive morning. What do you say we join the girls for refreshments?” Mrs. Beaumont turned to leave the ballroom.
The temptation toward pride rose up in Constance. She had sewn everything together rather nicely.
“And next week when Robbie returns, you shall demonstrate the waltz for us.”
With those words Constance’s delusions of success shattered.
CHAPTER 14
Thaddeus Franklin stared at his empty classroom full of empty desks. Perhaps he should return to his quarters behind the schoolhouse, but no doubt they would be empty as well. The housekeeper worked while he taught, leaving behind nothing but a tepid dinner. Perhaps he should be grateful. Instead, he focused on the spacious room devoid of its jostling students. Why must everything in his life be so empty? Empty like the space in his chest.
For a time, Constance had filled him with hope and joy while simply sitti
ng next to her, basking in the warmth of her presence. No, she had not returned his affections, but he had affections aplenty for them both. How could she leave him and dash off to the frontier without a word of warning?
As a man of science, he knew the heart to be a mere organ. A mass of muscle and tissue, not some mythical place where emotions dwelt. Yet Constance’s absence caused pain in surprising proximity to the place his heart must reside.
He could not bear another evening alone. Nor did he desire the company of his grumpy uncle tonight. No, he longed for his sisters’ giggles, tinkling chimes in the wind. Those sisters stolen from him far too soon. He longed for his mother’s whispered endearments and comforting embraces. Even for the firm pat of his father’s hand upon his back, or a moment to enjoy a cup of coffee together while discussing politics.
Five years since his parents perished in a carriage wreck. Nine since his sisters died of the fever. And three weeks since Constance had abandoned him.
He shook off his melancholy. Men of academia were too given to dark thoughts. He had promised himself never to take that road lest he grow reclusive like his uncle. How he wished his relative could welcome him and make him feel at home.
There was only one place Franklin felt at home. He thought of Patience’s strict instruction that he should visit anytime. The command had filled him with warmth. He wished Patience might be his sister someday, but the odds of that occurring had diminished considerably.
If she meant to treat him as family, however, if the Cavendishes would accept him into their home, there could be no harm in that. He longed for the sisterly companionship of the girls and the maternal attention of their mother. Even Grammy’s kind encouragement. And if Constance were to come home and find him already ensconced in the family fold, all the better.
Yes, he would head there at once. The Cavendish home was only a few blocks from his school. Within minutes, he had arrived and knocked upon the door.
“One moment. Coming, coming.” Grammy called. “Takes a while to get t’ old bones moving.”
She opened the door and welcomed him with just the warmth he’d anticipated. “Now then, Mr. Franklin, welcome to our ’ome. Can I do summat for thee?” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled.
How he wished to hug her plump frame to him, sink his head onto her soft shoulder, and cry. But he would never permit himself such a ridiculous display. “Miss Cavendish…that is to say…she mentioned that…”
“Miss Constance still ’as not returned. Might be some time yet.”
“Um, no, rather, Miss Patience Cavendish…Well, you see, I was sharing with her how lonely I become. She said I might think of you all as family and stop by anytime.”
Grammy pushed the door open wide. “Of course, Mr. Franklin. Splendid plan. And I ’ope thou don’t mind, but I put family to work snapping beans about this time in t’ afternoon.”
A burst of something delightful filled that place he still insisted could not be his heart in any sort of biological manner. “You shall find I am an expert snapper, ma’am. I’d be happy to help you.”
“Good.” Grammy took his hat and ushered him toward the kitchen. “I enjoy a wee bit of company while I cook. Most days I drag them in ’ere to do their sewing, but Mrs. Cavendish and young Felicity ’ave gone to t’ dress shop for a new batch of projects. And Miss Patience rarely comes ’ome before dinner.”
Grammy handed him a bowl of freshly washed green beans and pointed to the table. He sat and began snapping as she peeled potatoes.
“That was a fine idea Patience ’ad. She’s a good girl. So reliable and resourceful. Make some lucky man an excellent wife someday.” Grammy gave him a meaningful look.
He shifted under her gaze. What was the woman suggesting? Surely she knew he’d set his cap on the eldest Miss Cavendish. “Yes, all the Cavendish ladies are thoroughly lovely. I dare say those traits are true of Miss Constance as well.”
Grammy twisted her lips. “Aye and nay, if thou ask an old woman’s opinion. I are afraid, dear, that thou ’ave yet to meet the true Constance. Full of fire and life that one is. I ’ave missed her these five years. I can’t wait to see ’er back, and I don’t mean from Charlottesville.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” Although he knew some puzzle lay beneath Constance’s subdued exterior, he had not expected any sort of outright deception.
“The Constance thou ’ave seen in’t the Gingersnap I ’elped to rear.”
“Yes, of course. The nickname. I agreed with her on that issue. I don’t believe it suits.”
“Oh, it did, my boy. It did.” Grammy put her potatoes aside and came to sit across from him. “May I be frank?”
He tugged at his collar. “I wouldn’t have it otherwise.”
“It in’t that I don’t think thou might admire t’ real Constance as much as t’ false version. But I don’t believe a body should fall in love until they know the true person underneath. I would ’ate for Constance to settle down wi’ any fellow about now.”
He fanned himself and took a few deep breaths. “A false version, you say? Why would she need one?”
“These girls ’ave all been through a rough time, Mr. Franklin. Thou know about that, though God love thee, thou never ’eld it against them. But Constance being t’ oldest, took it the ’ardest. She missed her papa summat fierce. And while she ’eld ’is ’eart, she never could earn ’is approval. Always that one was in trouble over owt.”
He stopped snapping. Grammy laid her hand over his. “I suspect after ’er father was gone, she wanted to be t’ daughter ’e always ’oped for. T’ kind of daughter Patience was. To be responsible and take ’is place in the family. But she dun’t seem to understand that nay matter ’ow much ’er father appreciated Patience, it was Gingersnap’s fire that put a gleam in ’is eye. That girl could cause a ruckus like no one else, and she could throw ’erself in thy arms and love thee like no one else as well.”
That place in his chest squeezed tight. Oh how he longed to meet this Constance. To be loved by her in an extravagant way. Perhaps therein lay the solution to the conundrum. Perhaps he’d sensed it about her all along.
“Take an old woman’s advice.” She patted his hand. “Although t’ eldest, Constance in’t ready for love. If thou truly wish to be a part of this family, I suggest thou consider other options.”
His mind went blank. “You mean?”
“I mean, thou might want a new pair of spectacles, Mr. Franklin, for thou don’t seem to see what’s in front of thy face.”
Patience? The walk. The odd blinking of her lashes, the unusual way she snuggled against him. The intense stare of her eyes. Her, in fact, quite lovely eyes.
“You mean Patience? Might she hold some affection for me?”
“Nice to know thou aren’t a complete dunderhead. Wun’t bode well for thy students.”
Patience? He thought of her only as a sister, a companion.
At that moment a crash sounded at the front door. A little-girl squeal and pounding footsteps filtered from the hallway, and Felicity burst into the kitchen. “Grammy! Grammy! It came at last.”
Noting his presence, she turned and flew to him. “Mr. Franklin, she’s finally written.” Felicity pulled him to his feet and danced him in a circle.
Oh how he ached for his little sisters. He simply must have this delightful girl in his life.
Felicity let go his hands and spun in place. He’d never seen her so effusive.
“She’s safe and fine, and she’s employed through August.”
“August?” His stomach dropped to his feet.
Mrs. Cavendish entered. “Aye, but she thinks she’ll have references aplenty by then.” She and Felicity must have read the letter before they’d even left the postal office.
Felicity squealed again. “She didn’t say much at first because she was there on a trial basis, but the Beaumonts treat her as family, and she’s having a lovely stay.”
“How wonderful to be treated as family.”
Mrs. Cavendish sighed. Her life in Richmond as the widow of a swindler was not easy.
Having come from Philadelphia himself, he did not understand how people could be so hardhearted to these genteel ladies. But he hadn’t lost money to the man. Perhaps he would feel differently if he had.
No, he could never hold anything against Constance. “So she’ll be gone for months still.”
“Yes, but when she returns, perhaps we’ll be able to open our little school.” Felicity skipped to Grammy and planted a kiss on her wrinkled cheek.
“A school, you say?” He had never heard mention of such an ambition before.
“Oh, it’s a secret family dream, Mr. Franklin,” said Mrs. Cavendish. “I suppose you are one of us now. We hope to open a school for young ladies, not unlike yours.”
“Except that we must focus on manners and the arts. Subjects appropriate to the female mind. Not science and Greek and boring stuff.” Felicity settled herself into a chair.
He supposed if they held out such hopes, references might be helpful—although he doubted Richmond society would take the advice of those who they considered to be the backwoods frontiersmen of Charlottesville.
But Franklin had his own ideas. Assisting them might not be out of his reach. He would do anything to bring Constance back to the safety of her home. Finishing up his beans, he took them to Grammy at the counter.
Felicity, unable to remain seated, rushed to hug him. “I’m so glad you were here to help celebrate our good news, Mr. Franklin.”
Yes, he wanted these wonderful women in his life. He longed for a family of his own. If Constance wouldn’t have him, perhaps he should give thought to Patience as Grammy suggested. He must give the matter all due consideration.
CHAPTER 15
Late that afternoon, Constance sought the sanctuary of her bedchamber to write her family and prepare her mind for the prospect of more dancing with Robert Montgomery. Not any dance, but the waltz. The same steps they’d taken as they pledged their lives to one another hidden away in the library of Cavendish Hall. She could only hope his journey to Princess Ann would take long enough for her to adjust to the idea.
