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“He may be from Paris, but he arrived by way of Seven Dials,” Will said. “I have just spent a quarter of an hour talking to him in French and he has the most appalling accent I have ever heard.”
“Well, it may be that he is not from the verybestquarter of Paris,” Stepmother said, eyes twinkling. “He is, however, reputed to be quite the best dancing master in London.”
“So I should hope, at a guinea a lesson,” Pa said, peering over the top of his newspaper. “I am not at all sure why we need this Frenchman when we paid all that money to the funny little fellow in the moth-eaten wig back home. He came every week for years. Surely the girls know how to dance by now.”
“Oh, but London dancing is so much more stylish, Pa,” Angie said. “Everyone says so. Emmy Malpas says that she could sit and watch Lord and Lady Craston for hours, they are so graceful.”
“But you and Rosie are graceful dancers, too,” Pa said. “I can’t see what more you need to learn.”
“It is all in deportment,” Stepmother said. “It is the carriage and the manner of walking that marks out the truly refined person from… well, from those less refined,” she ended lamely.
“From rough types like me, you mean,” Pa said cheerfully. “What’s that Greek word you use, Will? For common folk? You know — commoners, scum, riff-raff.”
“Hoi polloi,” Will said, chuckling.
“That’s the one.Hoi polloi,”Pa said. “What it is to have an educated son. Well, off you girls go. Don’t keep the Frenchman waiting.”
The ladies all rose, as Will settled down with his coffee.
“Will? Might you join us when you have breakfasted?” Stepmother said.
He pulled a face. “Must I? I am not minded to be ordered about by a man of dubious origins.”
“But it would be so helpful to your sisters to have another man to dance with.”
“I amcertainlynot minded to dance with Rosie or Angie!” Will said. “I have my dignity to think about.”
“Oh. Well, that is a pity.”
For a few minutes the room was peaceful, the only sound the rustle of Pa’s newspaper and the crunch of Will’s toast. But eventually Pa folded up his newspaper and laid it neatly on the table. “It’s going to take me a while to adjust to reading the news when it’s fresh, instead of two days out of date, or a week late in the winter.”
Will laughed. “Now if you were doing things the proper way — theLondonway — you would go to your club and read it there.”
Pa pulled a face. “I’m not sure I’d want to be a member of any of these fancy London clubs. What would be the point?”
“Why, to meet people, of course. Everyone who is anyone belongs to one or other of the great clubs — White’s, Boodle’s, Brook’s, Watier’s. But not to worry, Pa, for they would not have you. They would not have either of us.”
“Oh? I can see why they’d not want a mercer treading their hallowed floors, but you’re a gentleman through and through. They’d have you, wouldn’t they?”
“No, because I would have to be nominated by an existing member and I know not a single one of them. We are equally excluded, you and I.”
He could not help a touch of bitterness creeping into his tone. It was of all things the most desirable to him, to be accepted into the gentlemanly world of the clubs. Every time he visited town he walked past them, sauntering up and down St James’s Street, imagining himself turning aside and mounting the steps, the doorman smiling at him. “Good day, Mr Fletcher,” he would say, holding the door open for him. And inside… all the lords and distinguished men of England would acknowledge him. He would be recognized, known… he would besomebody.For all his father’s wealth, for all the vast house in Grosvenor Square, he would always be an outsider, like a child gazing through a shop window at the toys within, until he belonged to one or other of the clubs. Yet he could not see how it could be done.
“Well, until you meet someone to nominate you, perhaps you can polish your dance steps with your sisters. When you meet that lord’s daughter you’re planning to marry, you’ll want to be able to impress her with your graceful dancing at a ball.”
Thus gently hinted, Will finished his coffee and went upstairs to the principal drawing room, where the carpets had been rolled up in anticipation. Stepmother and her cousin were sitting at the side of the room, watching while Rosie and Angie pranced about with the Frenchman, a so-elegant young man in knee breeches and a powdered wig that might have been fashionable fifty years ago. A woman of indeterminate age was picking out a stately tune on the pianoforte.
Will watched, the frown deepening on his face. Eventually he burst out, “What on earth are youdoing?”
“It is the minuet, Will,” Angie cried. “Is it not elegant?”
“Elegant, no doubt, and it might be useful if ever you are presented at court, but it is danced nowhere else these days.”
“Ah, m’sieur does not quite understand,” the Frenchman said, bowing low with great sweeps of his arms. “Ze minuet is not popular zese days, to my infinite regret, but ze person who can dance ze minuet will move in society with ze most superior carriage, ze deportment most excellent.”
“It is true, Will,” Stepmother said. “It is widely taught as an aid to graceful movement, and as much for gentlemen as for ladies. Even you would benefit from learning it, I am certain.”
“Those mincing steps? I should look a fool,” Will muttered.
