Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

E va had always looked forward to her dancing lessons—they were one of the few ways she was able to leave the house without her mother hounding her about husband hunting—but her eagerness had taken on a new tenor. Dance was proving a means for her to explore not only what she was capable of physically, but also as a means of escape. Life made sense when she was dancing.

She practised as much as she dared to, doing tiny pirouettes in her room, mincing along on her toes down the hall, plié at the breakfast table before her mother came down. She could feel herself becoming stronger, her muscles lither. It was a satisfying feeling, knowing that she had found a way to express her inner strength physically in a way that wouldn't provoke too much comment.

Her social circle had shrunk considerable over the past year, not least because of the shenanigans her mother had put her up to with Lord Tom. Therefore, there weren't too many people there to witness Eva's transformation. It was not simply that her legs were stronger, or that she carried her arms more gracefully; she was a more deliberate, thoughtful person than she had been before. It wasn't all down to the dance, of course, but it had a meditative quality to it that allowed for introspection without seeming morose.

It was also strangely important for Eva to impress Josiah. She did not know why this was, but his approval meant a great deal to her. It would have been easy enough to dismiss this as him simply being an accomplished master, so naturally his opinion mattered the most. She began to look forward to her dancing lessons specifically with Josiah ; he was an integral part to the experience.

The time was approaching for her next lesson, the first since she had been invited to observe the rehearsal at the theatre. Like a child about to go on holiday, Eva found herself having difficulty sleeping the night before; consequently, she woke early and dressed hurriedly, which left her a deal of time to pace about, restless. She tried reading, but her mind kept sliding away from the words on the page.

It seemed to take agonisingly long for her mother to put on her gloves and tippet; Eva had to resist the urge to tap-tap-tap her foot on the foyer floor in impatience. She twisted her own gloves in her hands, eager to be off. Her edginess did not affect her mother in the slightest. In fact, it seemed that Lady Stanton was in a world of her own, paying little mind to Eva's subtle and not-so-subtle attempts to hurry her along.

The walk to the dancing academy was oddly silent, which put Eva a little on edge. Silence from her mother rarely boded well; in fact, it usually precipitated a plot or scheme of some sort, or some sort of horrid news. Eva slid her mother sidelong glances, but did not say anything. Truthfully, she did not wish to ruin her lesson by worrying about whatever it was.

As ever, Eva's cares melted away when she entered the comforting silence of Mr. Galpin's school. The maid could not help her out of her boots and into her dancing slippers fast enough. She stood and practically pranced out onto the dancefloor, which warranted only a tired sigh from Lady Stanton.

To Eva's surprise, there were two people waiting for her: Mr. Galpin, and a man nearly bent double with age. Eva stopped short, a strange kind of panic rising within her. Mr. Galpin had been speaking quietly with the strange man, but he looked up and smiled when Eva appeared.

"Lady Eva, punctual as ever," he said with a small bow. "Lady Stanton, good to see you as well," he added like an afterthought. Eva looked warily between the two men standing, or, well, stooping, before her. Mr. Galpin caught this, and his smile widened a little. "I thought perhaps we might try something new today," he said, gesturing to the stranger. "This is Mr. Holden Randall; he is by far the most accomplished pianist you will ever have the pleasure of hearing. He shall accompany us today. On the piano," Josiah clarified swiftly, catching Eva's worried look.

"Oh! We'll be dancing to music today, then?" she asked, brightening considerably.

Mr. Randall smiled a smile that was mostly gums. "Best hope so, else he dragged these old bones out into the cold for no good reason."

Eva laughed, turning the full force of her smile and beautiful eyes on Mr. Randall. The wrinkles in the old man's face lifted upward in response, clearly charmed. "There's something to put in your eyes and look at," he said appreciatively. "Now, help this bag of bones over to yon pianoforte," he said, gesturing with a gnarled old stick in his gnarled old hand to the instrument in one corner.

Mr. Galpin stepped forward to offer him an arm, and was promptly swatted at by Randall's stick, narrowly avoiding a whacking. "Not you ," Mr. Randall said contemptuously. "What would I want you for when I have this pretty young thing to help me about?" Eva laughed again, throwing her head back a little, and obligingly offered her assistance to him.

They slowly shuffled their way to the pianoforte, with Mr. Randall looking smugly chuffed about the procession. There was a bit of a to-do about getting him settled comfortably on the stool, with a series of grumpings about "not being able to afford an old man a proper cushion," but he was soon sat before the instrument. Eva was not entirely sure how the crooked old man would play, his back hunched in such a way that he was not very far from the keys.

To her surprise, he lifted his hands, cracked his knuckles in such a way that made her wince, and then commenced to play. She stared for a moment, her ears not believing what her eyes were seeing. Playing was perhaps not the right word; his fingers skipped across the keys with a lightness that was not to be credited if one had not seen it.

"What is the young lady's fancy?" Mr. Randall asked. "A quadrille? A minuet? One of those uncouth country jigs?" To Eva's delighted surprise, he plonked out the first few notes of each, weaving them together seamlessly.

"How could I possibly choose?" Eva said, clapping her hands together under her chin.

"We've been working on a German waltz, Randall," Mr. Galpin called, raising an eyebrow at him.

" Ein walse , eh? These modern dances, pah," he said, wobbling his balding grey head. "No style, none at all!" Eva put her hand on her hip, and Mr. Randall's head swivelled a little to look at her. His weathered face softened. "Well, if I were to do it for anyone, it would be you, my lady."

"Shameless flirt," Mr. Galpin muttered, which only made Eva laugh harder.

Nonetheless, they took their positions, and at a nod from Mr. Galpin, Mr. Randall obligingly played the offending waltz. Eva was delighted to find that, though the addition of music was a challenge at first, her feet knew exactly where to go—her hours of practice had paid dividends. She glided along easily, keeping pace with the music.

Mr. Galpin, too, took note of her progress with an approving smile and nod. "You are doing well, Lady Eva," he said as she passed under his arm. "I daresay that you shall be ready for any ballroom quite soon."

Though relishing the praise, Eva could not help but feel her heart fall just a little at the realisation that she would soon have no need of Mr. Galpin. She could not bear the thought of their lessons coming to an end. This thought was unshakeable, and added a kind of gravitas to her movements.

Still, she was keen to be praised, and Mr. Galpin obliged when the dance was concluded. Even Mr. Randall, from his place at the pianoforte, paid her the compliment of a few claps. Eva, delighted in spite of herself, could not resist giving a little twirl of happiness, which made Mr. Randall break into another gummy grin.

When she had completed her turn, she was face to face with Mr. Galpin again, who watched her with a kind of wonder.

"What?" she asked, feeling a little discomfited.

"Do that again," he demanded, watching her closely.

"Do what, Mr. Galpin? This?" Eva obliged him, turning again, arms flung out and then pulling them back in.

"How did—you only saw Beatrice do that once," he said, handsome brow furrowing a little in confusion.

"Yes?"

"Saw the cool Miss Heart dance, did you?" Mr. Randall called from his corner.

Startled, Eva turned to stare at him. "How did you know that?"

"Oh he's got ears like a fox, that one," Mr. Galpin said. "Can't stand up straight anymore, but he can hear a fly at the palace from St. James."

"And don't you forget it, either," Mr. Randall said to Mr. Galpin, jabbing a knuckly finger at him. "Miss Heart's a good enough dancer, but claws sharp as knives, that one," he continued to Eva.

"She's so graceful, though," Eva sighed. "She makes it look so easy."

"What's all this?"

Lady Stanton's voice carried across the dancefloor, and everyone turned to look at her. For possibly the first time in her existence, everyone had forgotten that she was present until she spoke up. The sudden silence that followed only seemed to confirm her suspicions that something untoward was happening. With sharply narrowed eyes, she rose from her chair near the fireplace, and began marching closer.

"Lady Eva was just commenting on Miss Beatrice Heart's dancing," Mr. Galpin explained. "She's an example of the virtue of practising diligently, much like Lady Eva."

Lady Stanton stopped, her mouth slightly open in surprise. Eva could practically see her trying to determine exactly how outraged she should be by the very idea of comparing her daughter to a dancer . Fearing the worst, Eva drifted back slightly, taking up a position behind her mother.

"I'm not sure how Eva would have been able to observe Miss Heart from our box seats to make such a claim as to the quality of her dancing," Lady Stanton said at last, clearly trying to re-establish the correct societal borders.

"True enough," Mr. Galpin agreed, attempting to pacify Lady Stanton. "Thankfully, Lady Eva was able to observe her much more closely at the rehearsal this Wednesday past."

Eva could feel the blood draining from her face. Her head whipped to Mr. Galpin, desperately trying to catch his eye. From behind her mother's back, she pleaded silently with him, Please, please, please do not give me away. Please… With widened eyes and an entreating face, she tried her best to make herself clear.

"A rehearsal?" Lady Stanton repeated slowly, her voice oddly low and dangerous. "What rehearsal?"

"Oh—she was kind enough to pay a call on us to view a rehearsal. I am sure she found it instructive." Mr. Galpin darted a glance to Eva, then kept his eyes fixed on Lady Stanton.

"And where, exactly , was this rehearsal, Mr. Galpin?" Lady Stanton demanded.

"Right here, of course," Mr. Galpin said without hesitation. "She was with Miss Kitty Johnson, I believe."

"Well, I certainly am glad that you had time to stop in and watch dancers when you were meant to be doing charitable works," Lady Stanton snapped, rounding on Eva.

Eva laughed easily, waving her mother off as if she were the silliest thing in the world. "Oh, Mother, really," she chided her. "It was nothing of the sort; I thought I might have left one of my gloves here, you know, the pretty mauve kid leather ones? I could not find it anywhere , and you know how much I hate to have an incomplete ensemble. Well, Kitty suggested we stop here and look in, and I'm so glad we did. It was like a gratis lesson."

Lady Stanton looked with narrowed eyes from her daughter to Mr. Galpin, still suspicious, though the idea of a lesson that she had not had to pay for had worked its magic and made her reconsider. Eva kept her face impassively bemused, as if her mother were being just this side of ridiculous. Inwardly, she was praying that her mother would believe the story without questioning.

"It's true enough, mum," Mr. Randall chimed in. "I was providing accompaniment for the dancers, as is my wont, and the young lady and her companion popped ‘round for a few moments."

Lady Stanton looked about again, then grunted in grudging acceptance. Eva doubted that she was completely taken by the story, but she also did not have enough to pursue the matter farther.

"Come along, Eva," she said at last, her eyes lingering only for a moment more on Mr. Galpin. "We've other calls to pay, and have taken up enough of everyone's valuable time."

Lady Stanton flounced out of the room then, calling for the maid as she went. With a last grateful look, Eva began following her mother out. She was glad that Mr. Galpin had felt compelled to help keep her secret (and the winning Mr. Randall for that matter), but humiliated also that she had to sneak around in such a matter.

Eva was left alone in the dressing room for a moment to change to her boots, the maid kneeling down to help her. Lady Stanton had already made her way to the entrance, and was awaiting Eva there. From the dressing room, which did not boast particularly thick walls, Eva could hear Mr. Randall say something in his warbling, gravelly voice, indistinguishable.

"Don't you start, you saucy old man," Mr. Galpin retorted, which only made Mr. Randall laugh.