people attend them. I never comprehended it before.”
Lizzy smiled gleefully and kissed his cheek. “William, you are so cute! I love you!”
He lifted one eyebrow, still smiling and stroking her swanlike neck. “Cute? I am not certain how manly it is to be labeled ‘cute,’ Elizabeth.”
“Your manliness is without dispute, my love, but do not worry, your cuteness shall be our secret.”
They passed another ten or so minutes in merry seclusion, entering the hall arm and arm in time for the waltz. Some thirty couples were brave enough to dare the infamous dance, all but three of them married. The full assembly gathered in the ballroom, pressed into every available space to observe. The general atmosphere was one of eager anticipation with only a few outright expressions of indignation or wrath.
The Darcys took their place, irrefutably one of the best-looking couples on the floor. The Viennese waltz was a fast-paced dance of unrelenting circular movements with numerous twirlings and rotations. It was fluid, graceful, and vigorous. Despite its reputation, the intimacy was not as scandalous as many envisioned. The partners stood at nearly extended arm’s length, the man’s right hand lightly on the woman’s waist with her left hand resting on his shoulder. His left arm stretched at chest height, acting as a shelf for her right hand. Their bodies never actually touched.
The orchestra played “Una Cosa Rara” from Vincente Martin’s opera, one of the original waltz pieces written. The music was beautiful, and it was heavenly to dance with the full symphonic blends swirling about them. Lizzy and Darcy had eyes only for each other. It was amazing, exhilarating, and enormous fun. Only one other intimate activity transcended the rapture of this dance. When the music ended, the room erupted in applause.
For the second turn, some ten new couples boldly joined in. A Mozart waltz was performed this turn as wondrously as Martin had been. The actual steps of the waltz were not complex, rendering the dance easy to learn and execute. Those who possessed a natural grace, such as the Darcys, excelled. Of course, it was a new dance, so few of the participants could claim expertise, which meant that few of the spectators could necessarily find fault. Therefore, the acclamation was thunderous, with even the skeptics rendering grudging approval. Overall, the decision to allow the nefarious dance born in the bordellos and peasant dance halls of Europe was a triumph, and presented another step in the path of preeminence for waltz-type dancing.
For the remaining sets, the orchestra reverted to standard, accepted English country dancing. Darcy led Elizabeth to an isolated seat and, after a kiss to her hand, left in search of refreshments. Lizzy watched him weave his way through the press of people, taller than the majority of them so it was easy to follow his progress. She sighed in happiness and closed her eyes briefly.
“You dance the waltz as if born to do so, Mrs. Darcy.”
The voice jolted her out of her reverie and she looked up into the eyes of the Marquis of Orman. “My Lord, forgive me. I did not see you approach.”
“It is I who should beg forgiveness, Madame. I believe I interrupted your rest. You must be fatigued after such a vigorous dance.” He was smiling strangely and peering at her far too boldly for comfort.
“This would be twice tonight you have been mistaken, sir. I am not fatigued. Merely catching my breath and capturing a moment of solitude until Mr. Darcy returns with our refreshments.”
“Ah, so he is to return. Pity. I was rather hoping he had deserted you. May I?” He indicated the empty side of the sofa, but without waiting for an invitation, he sat and leaned toward Lizzy. “Are all the women of Hertfordshire as beautiful as you, Mrs. Darcy? If so, I must travel there immediately. Perhaps I shall be as fortunate as Darcy.”
Lizzy recognized with alarm that the Marquis was inebriated. She did not wish to make a scene nor to have Darcy discover him here. She glanced around quickly and did not see her husband’s towering form anywhere near. “I appreciate the compliment, Lord Orman. However, I believe it improper for you to offer it and to be sitting so close to me. Please stand a pace away, sir.”
“Beautiful and spirited, too. I can understand why Darcy married you. The Monk of Pemberley found his match, and the heart of every young maiden in England was broken.”
Elizabeth was furious. “Marquis, I will overlook this hideous breach of manners for the sake of peace at these festivities and because I deem you are not fully in charge of your faculties. I will not, however, sit here and listen to you any further. Please excuse me.” She stood to leave but he grasped her wrist tightly.
“Orman! You
A backward glance revealed Darcy firmly and ruthlessly propelling the unresisting Marquis out of the hall. Oddly, no one in the near vicinity seemed to have noticed any of it. Lizzy found the Matlocks sitting with the Vernors, elder and younger, and tremblingly told them what had transpired. Lord Matlock and Henry Vernor rose instantly and exited the hall. Harriet and Lady Matlock comforted Lizzy.
“That man has always been trouble,” Lady Matlock proclaimed. “I cannot fathom what Sir Cole was thinking, inviting him tonight. You can be sure he will hear about this.”
Lizzy was further distraught and felt tears rising to her eyes. “Oh no! I do not wish for this to be made into a scandal. Mr. Darcy abhors talk and would be so angry.”
Lady Matlock looked at her sharply. “Elizabeth, do not fret. It will remain discreet and William would never be angry with you for this. You said no one noticed. Harriet, dear, take Elizabeth into the library. I shall tell Mr. Darcy where you are.”
Some fifteen minutes later Darcy entered the library. Lizzy was calm, talking softly with Harriet, who rose when Darcy approached. “Thank you, Mrs. Vernor, for attending to my wife.”
She curtseyed. “It was my pleasure Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth, I shall see you soon.”
“Thank you, Harriet, for everything.”
The second the door closed behind her, Darcy dropped his pose of serenity and knelt before Lizzy, taking her face into his hands and studying her raptly. “Beloved, are you well? Please forgive me for allowing this to occur. What did he say to you? Did he hurt you in any way?” His voice caught and he swallowed.
Lizzy shook her head quickly and put her arms around him. “William, I am fine. He did not hurt me and nothing he said is of any import. He was intoxicated and rambling. There is nothing to forgive.” She smiled, “Your timing was excellent, as I was about to kick him. How would that have looked? You are my hero.” She kissed him teasingly, but he would have none of that and clutched her to his chest, kissing her possessively.
“I should have had him thrown out earlier when he insulted you,” he growled. “He is damned fortunate I did not kill him tonight!”
She peered at his frowning face. “Did you… do anything to him?”
He inhaled deeply and then smiled, “Such as trounce him within an inch of his miserable life? It was tempting, but no. Somehow I did not think you would wish to dance with me covered in blood.” He ran his fingers over her cheeks. “Elizabeth, are you positive you are well? You must tell me the truth.” He continued to peer at her with the familiar Darcy intensity at full force while gently massaging the wrist Orman had grabbed.
“I am fine. I was angry more than anything. I despise rude people and did not want this wonderful night ruined.”
Darcy kissed her wrist and mouth tenderly and then rose. “Nothing is ruined, my love. If I have not lost track of time, there is still one more dance set before the play.” He held his arm out. “May I have the honor, Mrs. Darcy?”
They were the last couple to join the line. It was a frolicsome dance to end the evening, and by the completion, Lizzy and Darcy had put the whole episode with Lord Orman behind them. Smiling and breathless, they accompanied the parade of merrymakers into the dining room, which had hastily been converted into a playhouse. The stage spanned the far wall, an enormous curtain concealing the preparations from the audience being ushered to their seats. The Darcys’ seats were in the fifth row. As soon as the lights were dimmed, Darcy clasped Lizzy’s hand, interlacing his fingers with hers.
It was now after midnight; therefore, Twelfth Night was officially over and it was now Twelfth Day, the traditional day of Christ’s Epiphany. The Coles had, for all the years of their Masque, separated the entertainment into two parts: feast and dancing followed by a stage theatrical. This year Sir Cole had hired a troupe of
