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To keep myself from screaming a warning to the two lovelorn fools, I bit down on the sleeve of my dress.
‘So, Miss Linton, it appears that you are still free.’ Edmund’s voice was casual, but his eyes weren’t leaving hers for a moment.
‘It appears so, Mr Conway.’ Her eyes seemed fixed on his by the same unbreakable force.
‘And will remain so? Or will Sir Philip appear at your door tomorrow morning, begging forgiveness?’
‘Do not ask me how… but I know in my heart that he is gone. He will trouble me no more.’
Edmund took a deep breath.
‘And don't you regret his leaving? Haven’t all the flowers that he sent you conquered your heart?’
‘If he were to send me a million red roses it would not gain him my love.’
I nodded approvingly. My sister might have very strange ideas about love, life and honour, but at least she
wasn’t mercenary. Never that.
‘And his noble titles, his lands?’ Edmund enquired. ‘Are you not sorry to lose such grand prospects?’
‘Were he the King of England and offered me all the riches of the Empire, I would not be swayed.’
Quite right! Oh, that’s female rectitude for you!
‘So you are truly still free,’ Edmund breathed.
‘I am,’ she said, then, lowering her voice so only he - and I, behind the nearby potted plant - could hear: ‘But my heart is not. It was given to another long ago.’
Love, adoration, yearning, relief: A symphony of emotions played on Edmund’s face - or maybe it was a sonata, considering he was a piano tuner’s son.
‘Then,’ he said, his voice trembling in vibrato, full of feeling, ‘since you are still free, may I request the honour of your hand for the next dance, Miss Linton?’
She dipped her head in the chastest curtsy I had ever seen. ‘You may, Mr Conway. I shall await you on the dance floor.’
And with that, she glided away.
May I say that, up to this moment, I had never looked forward to a dance as I did to this one? Which says something about my attitude to dancing, considering I wasn’t even going to be involved in the actual exercise.
When, finally, one song ended and the musicians struck up the tune of the next dance, I stuck a bit more of my dress into my mouth, just to be sure I wouldn’t make any noise and alert them to my secret hiding place.
There he was! Edmund was approaching Ella while in the background, the notes of a slow waltz sounded. The most romantic of all couple dances - I couldn’t have planned it better myself.
He stopped in front of her and bowed.
‘Miss Ella?’
She curtsied.
‘Mr Conway.’
He extended his arm. She took it, her face composed, but her eyes shining with an inner light. I didn’t fail to notice that instead of placing her hand against his so his fingers touched the back of her hand, as was custom for reasons of propriety, she slid her hand into his so that his fingers could surround all of her little hand and touch her palm. When her hand was in his, I could see a small shiver going through her body. It was as if she had finally come home.
He led her onto the dance floor to a place between the other couples. Most of them stood there, awkward, fidgeting, not knowing where to look. Edmund and Ella knew exactly where to look, and it wasn’t at their feet. They stared at each other’s faces as if beholding an angel from heaven. I had slight worries that they might trip during the first turn, considering how they couldn’t take their eyes off each other - but somehow, they managed not to.
As the music began in earnest, they seemed to sink into each other’s arms. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, fluid, and graceful. I stared in awe. This I had not expected. All right, Ella was not as bad a dancer as I - she was far too timid to step on any gentleman’s feet. But I doubted the piano tuner’s son had had much experience with waltzing, and there they were, waltzing away as if they wanted to win a dancing competition.
It couldn’t just be their infatuation, could it?
