Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

T he weather absolutely refused to let up. London in January was a dreary prospect at the best of times, but being beset by freezing wind-driven rain for days on end was testing the limits of everyone's fortitude. Mr. Galpin had chosen to instruct Eva at his dancing school, as it was the only large enough space to do so at their disposal. (Eva had been a mite disappointed that it would not be at the theatre, but the very notion of that would have set her mother into hysterics.)

The instructing room was large and airy, with low fires at both ends to attempt to keep the space warm. The rain pelted the windows relentlessly, however, making it difficult to hear sometimes. It had also made for an absolutely miserable trip over for Eva, even in their rented carriage. When she had arrived, Mr. Galpin had looked up at her with a bit of surprise, as if he had thoroughly expected her to cancel in deference to the weather. Surprise had quickly melted to satisfaction at her arriving, which would have made Eva blush if her cheeks weren't already wind-reddened.

"I am pleased that you braved the weather to attend," Mr. Galpin said, bowing slightly at the waist.

Eva smiled and huffed a little, but Lady Stanton immediately seized on this. "Oh, Mr. Galpin, you would scarce believe the troubles we had this morning! I thought our carriage would surely tip no less than three times. Luckily, we've made it through, and surely all as a testament to you. My Eva would not let us reschedule—she flat out insisted we came, and I had half a mind to box the silly thing's ears for making us come out in this gale?—"

"Ah, but you must be frozen," Mr. Galpin said, clearly seeing that another diatribe was quickly brewing. He swooped in gallantly, taking Lady Stanton by the arm and guiding her to the fireplace nearest the door. "Please, come take a chair by the fire and warm yourself. Might I offer you a little something to help ward off the chill?"

"Spirits, at this time of day?" Lady Stanton scoffed. "That is most improper. I suppose a small sherry might be acceptable. For my health," she added perfunctorily.

Eva was at the point of slapping her forehead with her palm again, but Mr. Galpin seemed to be taking all of this in some kind of stride. He summoned a maid, who he directed to help remove the wet shawls and pelisses of the ladies, and sent off to locate some sherry. Thus having mollified Lady Stanton, he turned his attention to Eva.

It was a little unnerving, having a man look at her so directly and openly. It wasn't that men didn't look at her—they absolutely did, and Eva was relatively acclimated to that—but one had never done so in such a personal setting. She refused to quell under his scrutiny, however, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin a little. He circled about her, hands behind his back, as if he were a predator and she were a deer caught in the open.

"I understand why your mother wished for you to have instruction," Mr. Galpin said, his voice low and calm, barely audible over the rain. Eva had to strain to hear him, which she supposed was the point. "She believes that I can mould you into an object of desire in the grandest of ballrooms."

"And you believe you can do that, can you?" Eva asked, following him with her eyes, but refusing to turn her head.

Mr. Galpin stepped lightly back into view, standing on the ball of his foot and settling slowly onto the heel. "I can, though I do not see much point in it," he said with a flick of his hand. "You surely get enough attention as it is."

Eva stared at him for a moment, unsure if he was teasing her. His face was perfectly serene, betraying nothing, and Eva let that pass without comment. "Then why did you accept me as a student?"

"Because of what you are doing right now," he answered immediately, stopping to stand directly in front of her.

"What am I doing?" she asked, her pretty brow furrowing a little.

"You are still, like a statue, but light and graceful; you do not have a heaviness of step. Here," he said, turning and fetching a long, thin, polished stick that went up to his elbow. He slid a small loop of leather over his wrist, and approached Eva. Her eyes grew wide, and she was sorely tempted to take a step backward.

Mr. Galpin caught her worried eyes following him, and he smiled just a bit, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. "Don't worry; the only ones who need to fear the sting of the cane are when the boys get out of hand with the maid. Now," he continued, coming behind Eva, "you stand naturally perfectly aligned." She felt a small pressure against her spine; clearly, he had pressed the cane to her back, demonstrating. "Slide your right foot just a little to the side—that's it, a bit more. Let your right foot take your weight, but not too much."

With a nudge from the tip of the cane, Mr. Galpin encouraged Eva to lift her right heel from the floor, turning her foot slightly. She nearly yelped at the strange sensation, as no one but the cobbler and her maid had ever touched her about the foot and ankle before. Tamping down on that impulse, she allowed herself to be posed: a nudge here, a slight adjustment there. Before she knew it, she had an arm lifted, the elbow and wrist crooked just so, and her right leg extended, peeking out from beneath her skirt and petticoat.

"There," Mr. Galpin announced, triumphant. "That is it precisely. Don't move," he admonished her, turning away again and fetching something large on little wheels, covered over with a sheet. Eva obeyed, not moving, scarcely daring to breathe. The large object was positioned directly in front of Eva, and with a dramatic pause, Mr. Galpin pulled the sheet off. Beneath was a large mirror, the largest that Eva had ever seen. She blinked in surprise, first at what it was, and then at what she saw in the reflection.

She had been guided into a position she had seen dramatic actresses and dancers take on the stage, as if preparing to flee or turn away. She was balanced lightly on one foot, caught as if in the middle of a step. This would have been a remarkable thing all on its own, but the tableau had more depth than merely an attractive pose. Eva had been put directly in front of the other fireplace, which caused her to be backlit by a warm orange glow. The whole effect was like a goddess of the rising sun.

"Oh," she breathed, pleased at what she saw.

"Now," Mr. Galpin said, circling about her again so that he could see her reflection still, "Show me the next step you would take. No, do not think of it—just do."

Automatically, Eva obeyed. Of her own accord, she lifted her left hand slowly, placing the back of it against her forehead for a moment, as if in great agony or grief. Likewise, her left arm stiffened, as if warding something away. Just as suddenly, she folded in on herself, shrinking and shying away. Simply working from instinct, she then slowly unfurled her arms, like a great bird slowly spreading its wings. She paused, not liking the angle, then adjusted her shoulders and neck. Her reflection stared back at her, regal, imperious, the promise of fire behind her back.

"Ah," Mr. Galpin said, a sighing sound of wonder and satisfaction.

Eva said nothing, for she was transfixed by her reflection. She had never seen herself with a posture of such uncowed confidence. Her eyes were not demurely downcast, but staring back at her, down her straight nose. Her shoulders, too, were thrown back, defiant. It was a moment of epiphany for her, an understanding of why it was that society both feared and desired the women of the stage: It wasn't because of flashing ankles and painted cheeks, but because they understood their own power.

"What is that ?" Lady Stanton's voice rang out, breaking the moment. "Is this some new continental dance? Or something equatorial? I shan't have her gallivanting about the ballroom like a heathen, Mr. Galpin!"

"Perish the thought, Lady Stanton," Josiah replied easily. "Though I don't doubt that she could do so with grace and ease. I merely wished to see what her instincts were, how she stood."

"Hmph," Lady Stanton harrumphed. "In my day, we did not fool about with all of this. We were simply told the steps, and repeated them until they were right, and got a smack on the wrist when they weren't. This is?—"

"Extraordinary," Mr. Galpin breathed, from quite near Eva's shoulder. He had spoken so quietly that she was not even sure that she had heard him; it was only the warmth of his breath that confirmed that he had, in fact, spoken, making Eva shiver a little. He was standing behind her, almost near enough to feel. He maintained a proper distance, which had always seemed sufficient before, but something in the reflected gaze of his eyes in the mirror made Eva feel as if he were very near, and very warm.

Eva could not help but stare right back at him, even as he placed one hand gently on her waist. She automatically placed her hand over top his. They were perfectly opposite and complementary all at once: Dark and light, novice and master, sun and moon. Mr. Galpin placed his arm beneath hers, encouraging her to rest her right hand atop his. Her breath came quicker from between her parted lips, and she had the irrational thought that he might press his lips to the side of her neck.

"Dance is more than simply plodding along with a partner, following steps. It can be the purest expression of self, when words do not suffice. Now, follow me," he murmured, and Eva found that she was quite happy to do so. Deftly, he led her in the steps of a waltz. Eva had always felt as if she had to maintain her vigilance when being led about the ballroom dancefloor; she had difficulty in allowing herself to be led, refusing to yield that bit of control.

This was something else entirely. Mr. Galpin did not seek to autocratically march her about, gently encouraging her instead. It was a dance of partners, giving and taking, working in synchronisation. Eva had never particularly understood the joy of dancing before this very moment.

When at last they stopped, Eva was facing Mr. Galpin. She stared up at him, his smoky eyes boring into hers. Gently, he released her, stepping backward. Reality came back to Eva slowly, and she blinked rapidly in confusion for a moment.

"What was that , Mr. Galpin?" Lady Stanton demanded.

"A waltz, my lady," he replied breezily. "They are becoming quite de mode in the better ballrooms of Europe."

Lady Stanton made a disgruntled sound. "I cannot imagine that it is wholly proper. Dancing together as a couple ? In such close quarters, the whole time?"

Eva watched as Mr. Galpin seemed to stifle a sigh, putting on a condescending smile. "Not to worry, Lady Stanton," he said, his words sounding a little forced. "You are merely seeing it with only us," he said with a nod toward Eva. "It is difficult to see how it will fully work without the other pairs."

"Well, when I was a girl—" Lady Stanton began, but was quickly cut off by Mr. Galpin.

"The real point of this," he said, turning his attention back to Eva, "is that Lady Eva managed to follow along the whole set. She is quite a natural talent."

Eva did not look down and blush, as was surely expected of her. Instead, she looked right back into Mr. Galpin's eyes and smiled. This seemed to take him aback, but then the corner of his mouth was twitching as if he were on the verge of smiling himself.

"Might we do that again?" Eva asked, and was immediately aware of how that might sound, asking to be whirled around by a man. "I wish to do it perfectly, you see, and I doubt that I shall always have such an experienced partner to guide me."

Mr. Galpin gave Eva a strange look, as if trying to ascertain if she were being humorous. "You need little help with the form," he said, taking up his cane again. "This time, follow along behind, so that you might begin memorising the steps."

Eva obliged, standing a pace or two behind him. He went slowly, showing her the steps, his own natural quickness checked so that she could follow. A couple of times, he halted her, asking her to stand still so that he might correct her posture. She naturally carried herself upright, which made things easier.

"Many of the ton's dances require quick and nimble feet," he explained, tapping out a rhythm on the floor with the cane. "This is an oft-neglected part of dance—many are more concerned with making graceful arms or turns of the neck, as they are more visible. It is the feet, however, that are the mark of a good dancer."

Eva was not a woman who spent her days lounging on a sofa, especially as it became more and more difficult for them to rent a carriage and she was forced to walk to and fro. Even before that, she had been accustomed to riding and was fond of a social walk in the park. She had long assumed that she was a fit and active specimen of woman, but she could feel her stamina flagging. Her ankles were tiring, and she had the beginnings of a cramp forming in one of her calves.

Mr. Galpin was not insensitive to this, however, as he gave her gentle encouragement. Still, he pushed her to continue for a few minutes longer, keen that she develop her endurance. At last, he let her place her hand atop his, as if they were actually in a grand ballroom, and led her back to her mother.

"You've done very well," he said softly, speaking only to her. "You may wish to put your feet up for the rest of the day, if you can. Try to walk about on your toes as much as you can for the next few days, to help develop your strength."

"When shall I see you again?" Eva asked, a little impulsively. "For my next lesson," she added hastily.

"In three days' time, should that suit your mother?" Mr. Galpin glanced to Lady Stanton, who assented reluctantly, citing concerns about the weather again. "Practise," he encouraged Eva with sudden enthusiasm. "You shall be as good as much as you practise."

Eva did not say anything, but inclined her head. Mr. Galpin gave her another one of his near-smiles, ignoring her mother. He seemed as if he were attempting to tell Eva something, but she could not fathom what it might be. He had been a kind, helpful instructor, not at all like the dancing master Eva had endured previously.

The maid reappeared, and Eva began donning her pelisse and gloves again, feeling reluctant and a little disappointed that her hour was up already. Mr. Galpin had followed Lady Stanton's wishes to teach Eva the new dances that would keep her a fashionable young lady, but there had been just a moment at the beginning when Eva thought…

It didn't matter, in the end, she supposed. Whatever he had seen in her, whatever he had envisioned when staring so intently at her in the mirror, was for naught. Eva was not free to do as she wished, and Mr. Galpin would not dare to make Eva into a modern performer.

She could not explain it fully, but as she turned to leave the studio, it was incredibly difficult for Eva to not turn around and cast a last glance at Mr. Galpin. The ladies of the ton were all besotted with him, and Eva had no plans to join their ranks. Still, as the maid hurried to open the door and ensure their carriage was waiting outside, Eva couldn't help but glance backward once.

Mr. Galpin was watching her leave, his expression thoughtful. Eva whipped her head back around. She could not begin to understand why he looked at her in such a manner, as if he were a sculptor attempting to find a statue within a lump of marble to carve out. She was simply another young lady with an overbearing mother who wanted to learn to take a turn about the ballroom without embarrassing herself. Nothing more.