reverse the course of the dance. “I just—I can’t—he always goes right when I think he should go left.” And he always seemed to vary the length of his step. It was impossible to foresee what he might do.
“Then stop thinking! It is not for you to anticipate; it is for the man to act.”
“If the young miss would just allow me to lead, madam … and if she would dance up through her toes, then perhaps—”
“Clara! When one dances, one is to be as light on one’s feet as a feather. You are not stuck to the floor with great blucher boots. You are, at any second, expecting to soar into the air on angel’s wings. If your feet touch the earth, it is only for an instant.” She waved a bejeweled hand at me to get me to come near.
At my approach, she reached out her hand and pulled on my own in an effort to rise. “I shall show you what I mean. A waltz, Mr. Drake.”
The dance master took up Aunt’s hand in his own. Aunt extended her other hand to his shoulder, and his free hand went to the back of her waist.
Aunt turned her head slightly to the left as they waited for the music. Once the assistant began playing the piano and they circled about the room, a miracle occurred: Aunt’s age fell away and she became that graceful angel of which she had spoken. And then the dance came to an end, and I helped Aunt back into her chair. “There. Now do what I have done.”
I approached the dance master with some trepidation, but I took up his hand and tried once more. At least I meant to try. But I stomped on his foot at the first opportunity.
Poor man. He looked as if he could not decide whether to slap me or leave the room.
“Clara! If you cannot pretend with your eyes open, then pretend with them closed.”
Closed? But how could I dance if I could not see where I was going?
“Now! Close them now .”
I closed them. After a moment I felt the dance master take up my hand in his. The music began and I panicked. How could I dance if I could not see? But I did not dare to open my eyes. I didn’t want to be reprimanded. Not more than I already had been. Neither did I want to step on the dance master’s toes.
A pressure at my back caused me to turn to the right. Another slight movement at our hands caused me to turn to the left. A faint squeeze of my hand suggested that I lift my arm. And so I did. Around the room we went. And by the end of it I was smiling.
And so was Aunt.
At least I think she was.
“Again. Only this time roll from your heels up to your toes.”
12
MY HEART CLATTERED within my chest like a trinket rolling around inside a box. This was it. Tonight, at the opening of the opera, I would officially start my season. No matter what happened, no matter whether I would be a great success or a great failure, I could not undo this night; I could not step back from this moment. I would either end the season engaged to be married or … the alternative did not bear thinking about.
I must end the season engaged.
And the engagement must be to the De Vries heir.
The sooner done, the sooner accomplished. I had to succeed. There was no other option. My family depended upon it.
Our carriage became entangled in a line of carriages waiting to deposit occupants in front of the opera. At last we were allowed to exit at the portico on Broadway. Father helped Aunt down and then he offered his hand to me. I took it and followed them into the Met.
From the first, I was overwhelmed by the crowds of people milling about in spaces not calibrated to their number. It seemed as though there ought to be some large foyer or some grand entrance. Some sign to indicate that here, through this way, lay the opera hall.
But there was nothing. Just an abundance of burgundy-colored walls accented with mirrors and gilded fixtures.
I followed Father and Aunt up a flight of stairs. There, on the second floor, was a crowd even more elaborately coiffed and costumed than the crowds below.
Father excused himself. Aunt frowned
“Then stop thinking! It is not for you to anticipate; it is for the man to act.”
“If the young miss would just allow me to lead, madam … and if she would dance up through her toes, then perhaps—”
“Clara! When one dances, one is to be as light on one’s feet as a feather. You are not stuck to the floor with great blucher boots. You are, at any second, expecting to soar into the air on angel’s wings. If your feet touch the earth, it is only for an instant.” She waved a bejeweled hand at me to get me to come near.
At my approach, she reached out her hand and pulled on my own in an effort to rise. “I shall show you what I mean. A waltz, Mr. Drake.”
The dance master took up Aunt’s hand in his own. Aunt extended her other hand to his shoulder, and his free hand went to the back of her waist.
Aunt turned her head slightly to the left as they waited for the music. Once the assistant began playing the piano and they circled about the room, a miracle occurred: Aunt’s age fell away and she became that graceful angel of which she had spoken. And then the dance came to an end, and I helped Aunt back into her chair. “There. Now do what I have done.”
I approached the dance master with some trepidation, but I took up his hand and tried once more. At least I meant to try. But I stomped on his foot at the first opportunity.
Poor man. He looked as if he could not decide whether to slap me or leave the room.
“Clara! If you cannot pretend with your eyes open, then pretend with them closed.”
Closed? But how could I dance if I could not see where I was going?
“Now! Close them now .”
I closed them. After a moment I felt the dance master take up my hand in his. The music began and I panicked. How could I dance if I could not see? But I did not dare to open my eyes. I didn’t want to be reprimanded. Not more than I already had been. Neither did I want to step on the dance master’s toes.
A pressure at my back caused me to turn to the right. Another slight movement at our hands caused me to turn to the left. A faint squeeze of my hand suggested that I lift my arm. And so I did. Around the room we went. And by the end of it I was smiling.
And so was Aunt.
At least I think she was.
“Again. Only this time roll from your heels up to your toes.”
12
MY HEART CLATTERED within my chest like a trinket rolling around inside a box. This was it. Tonight, at the opening of the opera, I would officially start my season. No matter what happened, no matter whether I would be a great success or a great failure, I could not undo this night; I could not step back from this moment. I would either end the season engaged to be married or … the alternative did not bear thinking about.
I must end the season engaged.
And the engagement must be to the De Vries heir.
The sooner done, the sooner accomplished. I had to succeed. There was no other option. My family depended upon it.
Our carriage became entangled in a line of carriages waiting to deposit occupants in front of the opera. At last we were allowed to exit at the portico on Broadway. Father helped Aunt down and then he offered his hand to me. I took it and followed them into the Met.
From the first, I was overwhelmed by the crowds of people milling about in spaces not calibrated to their number. It seemed as though there ought to be some large foyer or some grand entrance. Some sign to indicate that here, through this way, lay the opera hall.
But there was nothing. Just an abundance of burgundy-colored walls accented with mirrors and gilded fixtures.
I followed Father and Aunt up a flight of stairs. There, on the second floor, was a crowd even more elaborately coiffed and costumed than the crowds below.
Father excused himself. Aunt frowned
Similar Books
