Page 47 (1/2)
“Is it?”
“We only hear ruine the dance is only a bit of an excuse So”
“And are you a very good dancer?” The Duke blew a ring of lemon-smoke
“Oh, certainly not, sir,” Charlotte said with a twinkle in her eye She was beginning to enjoy this She’d only ever bantered with Branwell or made her toy soldiers do it before It was much better with a new person “We don’t dance in County Nothing; we just fall over and call it a waltz”
A few of the lads toasted her and cackled appreciatively “That’s quite enough wit out of your wattle, Lady No One—” began the navy-man, furious to have competition
The Duke raised his rusted hand “Do shut up, Ad flat on one’s face constitutes a waltz these days, perhaps I shall finally be able to e one!”
Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, Hero of Trafalgar, stepped out of the curtain of smoke and took up Charlotte’s hand in his His iron skin was terribly warm, almost too hot to touch, but she would not wince, she would not, even if she blistered His face was just as it had been in every picture Charlotte had ever seen, except that this Arthur Wellesley was so er, his jaw so much softer, and he stood only a head taller than her Could he even be fourteen? She thought not Yet ould put a fourteen-year-old boy, even if he was Arthur, at the head of an aro to a ball without their parents hanging over them like moths, yet here they all were
The dance was one of those that wasYou turned this way and that with precision when the horn called for it, in squares and circles and spirals that no one could see unless they floated above everything like a sparrow—or like Josephine, hanging in silent fury in her cage Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief Aunt Elizabeth had taught the, which wasn’tas your partner wasn’t any better than you were at it, you could pretend very well, and the Duke of Wellington was dreadful He’d no sense of rhythm and always started a bit too early, and besides, he looked directly at Charlotte, his eyes burning into hers, when you were lance flirtatiously every once in a while He looked, to anyone watching, like aafter prey
Meanwhile, Erand hall like a pair of songbirds chasing one another Byron could dance so well that it sort of rubbed off on you, left handprints on your heart to lead you to the next promenade or step or wheel All eyes that were not on the Duke and his irl were fastened fast upon the poet and his silver siren The ht stars like steam Charlotte and Emily passed each other in the broad circles of dancers, catching snippets of each other’s conversations as the silk and ribbon and lace and velvet blurred by
The Duke touched Charlotte’s hand She was grateful for the long, dark gloves Ginevra had given her No gold paint would rub off on the Duke’s fingers and give theether
“Very well, Miss”
“Bell Currer Bell of Thushcross Grange”
Arthur Wellesley narrowed his iron eyes “One of Felix’s granddaughters? I don’t recallyou at the Ridsummer bonfire last year It was a fine harvest and a fine feast, but I would still remember someone as clever as you Cleverness is beauty, and beauty cleverness, and that is the top and bottoton just call ht Charlotte “I re his wretched jokes to the cider jug and expecting to get a laugh, but no one with such sensible eyes, such brilliant hair, such rational lips”
“I was ill at Ridsummer, sir” Charlotte forced herself to blush She had never learned the trick of doing it naturally, but people expected it so! She’d never understood why a girl’s cheeks should turn pink just because someone said one word or another to her Men never did it So whenever it see, Charlotte held her breath lightly until her face turned a pretty red She did it now, under all her gold paint “My sister and I had matched fevers But Grandpapa does ht helplessly I’m nearly out of lies!
“Do you like the house, Miss Bell?” Lord Byron whispered into Emily’s ear “It’s all so wonderfully faded and ruined I do so love faded things, don’t you? Anything new is boring It hasn’t lived It hasn’t got secrets Do you have any secrets? Come, tell me one at once”