Chapter 5

Chapter Five

T here was always a curious, heady mix of emotions when Josiah completed a performance. It was an idiosyncratic blend of triumph, pride, and disappointment. He knew when a performance was good, when it was excellent; it wasn't an instant smattering of applause, it was a profound silence. This is what kept his troupe employed and at the pinnacle of their profession. He expected excellence, because he understood it.

This night was no different. The rest of the troupe had performed after he and Beatrice, and he'd reappeared for the customary bows. Beatrice seemed to bloom under the adoration, shining like a beacon in the dark theatre. Josiah, however, could not wait to retire to his dressing room. This was not to say that he did not enjoy the adoration of the crowd—he did—he simply had grown more than a little cynical about the whole thing. They enjoyed the aesthetic of the performance, but they did not understand the art. He wanted to elevate dance; the ton simply wanted something pretty to look at.

This was a constant source of bickering between Beatrice and himself. She felt that they should simply give the audience what they desired, and to rest on their accolades. She had a hunger for attention and praise that Josiah did not. It did not help that she had a point: The ladies and mothers of the great and wealthy did not care about artistic merit, they simply wanted their sons and daughters to learn how to catch a desirable partner at a ball. Josiah ran a school for dancing during the off-season, even deigning to give private lessons on occasion. Whether he liked it or not, Josiah had bills to pay, and he relied on the whims of the ton to do so.

Thus, his thoughts were already inclined toward a gloomy pessimism when he reached his dressing room. He had already dispensed with his costume with the assistance of his dresser, and was back into respectable breeches and shirt. He sat before the mirror, wrapped in his silk banyan again, his feet in a bucket of ice water. He lifted a cloth and was preparing to wipe away the stage makeup, but paused, blinking at his reflection.

There were fine lines beginning to show at the corners of his eyes, which only deepened when he was tired or vexed, and he was currently both. He was powdered and rouged, which gave the appearance of youth on stage, and made him shimmer in the low light of the theatre. Back here, however, up close, he merely felt ridiculous. Sighing, he swiped at his face roughly.

Backstage was quickly devolving into chaos, as it always did. The swells and swains of the ton would descend on the dressing quarters, hoping for glances of legs and arms. They always bore gifts, bestowing them in exchange for smiles and winks, and for the lucky few, promises of company later. In the narrow hallway beyond his dressing room, already there were shrieks and giggles, occasionally the sound of running feet. Josiah wondered if he might slip out unnoticed, perhaps if he ducked his head and?—

There was a knock at his door, loud enough to be heard over the revelry beyond. Josiah sighed, and considered not responding at all.

"Yes?" he called finally.

"Sorry to disturb, sir, but there's a couple of ladies and a gentleman here that would like to pay their respects," Knots said in a strange tone. His voice sounded odd, as he bent his mouth to form the accents of the respectable instead of his own usual rough brogue.

Josiah, unable to rise due to the bucket of freezing water his feet were in, instead bade them enter. In deference to the ladies, he made some effort at wrapping his banyan tighter about himself; ladies of the ton tended to be high-coloured about bare necks and men only in their shirtsleeves.

The door opened, and Knots peered in first, this way and that, as if checking to see that Josiah was alone and decently attired. The motion nearly upset his poor abused wig, which almost made Josiah smile. Satisfied that things were up to snuff, Knots opened the door wider and threw his arm out wide, ushering the callers within. The motion put considerable strain on his suit, which was already struggling to stay closed across his barrel of a torso.

"May I present Lord and Lady Chester," Knots said with a little half-bow. "Josiah Galpin, the maestro of the dance."

Josiah arched one pale brow at Lord Chester. "Good to see you again, Lord Tom," he said coolly. "I had not expected to see you backstage again."

Tom did not seem particularly bothered by the reference to his earlier exploits and reputation as a rake. "Mr. Galpin, my wife, Lady Patience, expressed an interest in meeting you."

Well, this is new , Josiah thought wryly. It is not often that husbands bring their wives to fawn over a performer.

Lady Patience, however, did not seem inclined to fawning. In fact, she merely regarded him with large, calm, violet-blue eyes. She also did not immediately begin blushing or stammering, but seemed content to merely study him for a moment. It was unexpected, and a little unnerving.

"How may I be of service, my lady?" Josiah said at last, unwilling to tolerate more of her silent scrutiny.

"Why did you choose Adonis and Aphrodite as the story to tell?" she asked evenly. "Did you feel that their story was well-suited to dance from the start, or did that notion come about naturally?"

Josiah was taken entirely aback. He had not expected such a thoughtful enquiry, and was entirely unprepared. He was not, however, displeased. In fact, he could feel one side of his mouth pulling up in response. He glanced to Lord Tom, who gave him a little head tilt and a knowing look as if to say, Well?

"I find myself always searching for the dramatic when looking for inspiration, I suppose," Josiah began slowly. Patience focused in on him, her mien thoughtful. "It was also the juxtaposition of the story: Aphrodite had fought for Adonis, and he appeared to return her affections. He had the favour of not one, but two goddesses, and yet it was one of the lowliest creatures to fell him. Every day, boars are skewered out in the forest, brought home and roasted, and it was this mundane thing that was his doom."

"Ah," Lady Patience replied, lifting her chin a little and smiling a little. "You like the juxtaposition of these things, yes? How curious—our friend was just saying the same thing." She paused, looking about herself as if she had misplaced her reticule or fan. "There you are," she said to the doorway, which was just out of Josiah's view. She gestured someone further in.

When this new lady entered, it felt as if all of the air were sucked out of Josiah. Simultaneously, an invisible spotlight seemed to shine on her, illuminating her. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. In her dark blue dress, she looked like the sky just after the sun has set, shimmering and sublime.

"Master Josiah says that your assessment was correct," Lady Patience said, gently drawing the other young lady forward. "I thought perhaps you might want to speak to him about it."

Strangely, Josiah felt like he was having a hard time finding his voice, so he settled for simply looking at her expectantly. She did not smile or simper at him as other ladies tended to do; instead, she looked straight back into his eyes. There was a kind of wonder to her expression, as if she were seeing something that she had never even considered to exist before. Josiah fancied that it was a similar expression that an intrepid explorer wore when he found an unfamiliar shoreline.

"So," he said at last, "you enjoyed our little performance?"

"I did," she said. Her voice was smooth and rich, a velvet caress on the ears. "But I must disagree that the boar is a profane character."

"Oh? Do you frequently hold the porcine in high regard?" Josiah retorted archly.

"Only at breakfast," she quipped back without a moment of hesitation. "But surely it is a beast worthy of some regard—after all, it is the sport of kings. Besides," she continued, stepping a little closer, gaining in confidence, "surely he has earned himself a little slice of immortality; he brought a goddess low."

Josiah, the other lady, and the lord all stared at the woman in blue. Unbidden, he could feel a smile curling his lips again. Josiah had not expected to be so charmed, but he was in very great danger of liking this new woman. She had a strange talent for standing completely still and poised, as if on the verge of a step that she never took. When she spoke, her wrists and hands moved elegantly, which also pleased his dancer's eye.

He was at the point of requesting the pleasure of an introduction when another woman, also darkly featured but with prominent grey streaks in her hair, burst into the room. She began blustering immediately and in a manner that caused Josiah to wince reflexively. He instantly knew the type, convinced that they were the most important person in the room.

"There you all are! It is like a maze back here, and the things one might see—shocking, I tell you, most shocking! I've seen quite a number of wayward husbands ogling ankles, I can tell you that much. What has you all turned to pillars of salt? Oh!" the matron said, catching sight of Josiah. "Why, I must congratulate you sir, I truly must! Such a spectacle, such grace and elegance. I hear that you are in the habit of taking on students?" Without waiting for him to reply, she barrelled onward. "I simply must have you teach my daughter; she needs an edge this Season, I can't have her growing stale on the shelf."

"Mother!" the beautiful woman in blue said sharply.

"Now, don't you fuss at me, you know it to be true," the matron continued.

Josiah opened his mouth, ready to flatly refuse on instinct. He had no desire to consort with this woman ever again, though the daughter was such a picture of beauty. Before he could, however, Lady Patience spoke up hurriedly.

"I was just inviting Mr. Galpin to take tea with me at his convenience," she said with a significant look. "I wished to discuss the matter of patronage with him; perhaps we might discuss it then? Naturally, you must come as well, darling Eva." She quirked an eyebrow at him, wishing to ascertain if she had picked up on the significance of her words.

He had. "I would be delighted," he said, feeling fairly certain that this decision would be far more important than what called for dainty cakes and sandwiches.

"Ah, but where are my manners," Lady Patience said. "This is Lady Gertrude Stanton, and her daughter Eva."

They both curtseyed, and Josiah, still stuck with his feet in the bucket, merely dipped his head. He looked up in time, however, to note that this Eva Stanton, dipped and rose with an inert grace. Lord Tom, at a nudge from Lady Patience, produced a calling card from a silver case. Josiah took it with another dip of his head.

"Thank you all for your kind words," he said. "Now, if you would be so kind as to excuse me, I find that I have other engagements to attend to."

Lady Stanton looked as if she might protest, but Knots, clearly having loitered outside the door, reappeared and ushered her onward. Lady Patience looped her arm through Tom's, and departed as well. Eva was the last to leave, which she did wordlessly.

When she was at the doorway, however, she turned back, her hand resting lightly on the doorframe. She looked as if she were at the point of speaking, but couldn't bring herself to. She merely looked back at Josiah with that same unguarded curiosity and wonder. It was a look that struck him right down to his core, lingering with him for the rest of the night.