The American Earl (12 page)

Lizzie clapped her hands in delight.

“Why is this Almack’s approval so important?” Evan asked.

I knew about Almack’s because my mother had been one of the patronesses.  I wasn’t quite sure what kind of place it was, but I knew if my mother patronized it, it was important.

Lizzie answered Evan’s question with a laugh.  “It’s called the ‘marriage mart,’ Evan. 

“It’s where a girl goes to find a husband.”

“Elizabeth, you sound like a cit,” Aunt Barbara said disapprovingly. She turned to Evan. “It is a respectable assembly room where girls of good birth go to meet eligible men.”

“I see,” Evan said. I could see him trying not to smile.

“Only the very best of the
ton
are admitted,” Aunt Barbara went on.  “One must have a voucher from one of the patronesses.  Fortunately I number Lady Sefton among my acquaintances.  She will give me vouchers for Lizzie and Julia.”

I said in my haughtiest voice, “My mother was a patroness. Of course we will get vouchers.”

Aunt Barbara turned a gimlet gaze on me. “Just make certain you don’t do anything that might cast a stain upon the family name, Julia.”

I narrowed my eyes but before I could reply Evan said, “If my uncle’s behavior couldn’t stain the holy name of Marshall, then I hardly think anything Julia might do could place it in jeopardy, Aunt.”

That wasn’t what I was going to say, but it was satisfactory and I gave him an approving nod. 

* * * *

The next day Aunt Barbara informed us that she had hired a dancing master to teach Lizzie, Evan and me the quadrille and the waltz. Evan tried to get out of it by declaring he had no intention of dancing at any of the affairs he was being dragged to. He would watch, he said.

I thought this was distinctly unfair and told him that it would look ridiculous if he accompanied us to dances and didn’t dance himself. “You don’t want people thinking Americans are so barbarian that they don’t even know how to dance, do you?”

My arrow hit home and he reluctantly agreed to submit to the instruction of Mr. Martelli along with Lizzie and me.

Two days later the dancing master arrived.  Grantly escorted him to the ballroom, with its wide expanse of empty bare wooden floor, where we waited with Aunt Barbara.  There was a piano in one corner of the ballroom and she took a seat, indicating she was ready to play.  Maria sat on a chair in the corner, prepared to be entertained.

Mr. Martelli was a slender man, with very black hair and very white teeth.  He flashed the teeth at us in a smile and said, with a distinct foreign accent,  “I am so happy to make your acquaintance.  It is an honor for me to be the instructor of such noble and lovely people.”

Evan and I looked at each other.

Mr. Martelli fixed his slightly protruding dark eyes upon Evan. “My lord, since you are new to England I suggest we begin with the approach of the gentleman to the lady, and his address to her.  The address is like the dance itself – it must be done with grace and élan.  You understand?”

“I’m not sure,” Evan said cautiously.

“You watch me,” Mr. Martelli said to Evan.  “I show how to do.”  He began to approach Lizzie walking on the balls of his feet, his smile still affixed to his face.  He stopped in front of her and said to Evan,  “When a gentleman requests of a young lady the favor of dancing with her, he should, at the time of addressing her, make his bow, and also request the approbation of the elderly person who may have the charge of her.  The bow, it is so.”  He pointed to his feet.  “Watch.  One foot takes the second position, the other the third,” he arranged his feet with balletic precision, “then the body gently falls forward, keeping the head in a direct line with the body.”  Mr. Martelli’s body tilted toward Lizzie.  “As you see, the bend is made by a motion at the union of the inferior limbs with the body.”

Evan’s face was perfectly grave as he asked, “The ‘inferior limbs?’ Do you mean the legs?”

Mr. Martelli straightened up.  He gave Evan a puzzled look, then his smile appeared again.  “Ah, you jest.  Americans like the jest, eh?”

Aunt Barbara called from the piano, “For heaven’s sake, Mr. Martelli, let us get to the dancing!”

“Of course, of course,” said the ever-amiable dancing master. “We shall begin then, eh? Will all of the noble pupils come out on the floor?”

The lesson in the quadrille proceeded fairly smoothly as all of the noble pupils were well coordinated and had an ear for music.  I actually found myself having fun.  The quadrille needed four couples to make up a set, and we only had two, but after a half an hour we all felt we could participate in a quadrille without disgracing ourselves.

Next, it was time to learn the waltz.  “First,” said Mr. Martelli, “I will demonstrate by myself.” He nodded to Aunt Barbara at the piano and, as the music swept through the room, the dancing master elevated his arms, as if he was clasping a partner, and began to swoop around the floor. “See,” he said, “you must count your steps, turning one half a revolution every three counts.” He whirled around and around chanting, “One – two –three; one-two –three.”

I wondered how he kept from being dizzy. Finally he stopped. “Now, I try it with one of the young ladies.” He looked hopefully at Lizzie.

“I’ll go first,” she obligingly said.

The two faced each other, hands clasped, Mr. Martelli’s other hand on Lizzie’s waist, Lizzie’s other hand on his shoulder.   This certainly was different, I thought.  In no other dance did one stand in such close proximity to one’s partner.

It didn’t take Lizzie long to catch on and she and Mr. Martelli were soon twirling around the room in time to the music.  It looked like fun.

“Good going, Lizzie,” Evan cheered her from the sidelines. His face, as he watched her, was alight with warmth and amusement. My eyes went back to my dancing cousin. Lizzie was really quite amazingly beautiful, I thought.

Then it was my turn to twirl around with Mr. Martelli.  It felt very odd being held so close to a man, and I stepped on his toes once or twice. 

He kept on smiling gamely. “Not to worry. Not to worry. It happens all the time when one is starting out.”

I finally relaxed and let him lead me and soon we were flying around the ballroom in decent harmony. It really was fun.

Then it was Evan’s turn.  “Are
we
going to dance together?” he asked Mr. Martelli. His mouth was sober but his blue eyes gleamed with humor.

“Yes, yes, that is how we will start out. Then you can try it with one of the ladies.”

With a straight face Evan clasped Mr. Martelli’s hand and put his other hand around the dancing master’s slender waist.  “So,” said Mr. Martelli, “we start.”

At the sight of the tall Viking that was Evan spinning around with the slender dancing master, I lost my gravity.  I started to laugh and couldn’t stop.  Lizzie joined in, and Maria starting giggling too. 

“How am I doing?” Evan called to us as he swooped around with Mr. Martelli.

“Wonderful,” Lizzie called back. 

“Woops,” said Evan. “Sorry.”

He had stepped on Mr. Martelli’s toe.

“Not to worry,” the dancing master said gamely, trying not to wince.

Aunt Barbara stopped playing and the two men came to a halt.  “Now you try with the ladies,” Mr. Martelli said.

Evan made a face. “I hope I don’t step on their toes.”

“I’ll chance it,” Lizzie said with a smile, stepping forward.  Aunt Barbara hit the keys and Evan and Lizzie began to circle around the room in time to the music.  They made a stunning couple, I thought, both so tall and blond and beautiful.  Mr. Martelli counted out loud for them as they waltzed – “One two three, one two three…”

After they had gone around the room a few times, Aunt Barbara stopped playing.  “That was very nice,” she said approvingly, looking at her daughter, who danced as if she was floating. 

“Much more fun dancing with Lizzie than with Mr. Martelli,” Evan said humorously.

Lizzie curtseyed. “Thank you, Cousin.”

Aunt Barbara said, “You go next, Julia.”

All of my amusement fled and suddenly I was nervous. 
This is ridiculous
,
I told myself as I moved slowly onto the floor to join Evan. 
Nobody cares if you make a mistake. There is absolutely no reason to be nervous
.

I lifted my chin and tried to look confident as I came to a stop in front of Evan.  He took my hand into his and then his other hand came to rest intimately on my waist.  I reached up high to place my hand on his shoulder.  Lizzie’s height had suited him better, I thought.  I was too short. 

The music started and we began to waltz.

We were so close that I could smell his skin and feel the warmth from his body.  The closeness of Mr. Martelli had been impersonal.  Evan’s closeness felt completely different.  Truth be told, it was making me feel a little dizzy.  Or maybe it was the constant circling.

His hand was so big that it encircled almost half my waist.

We were mismatched in height, but still we were somehow managing to move together as if we were one person, not two.  It was so easy to go with him.  It was as if I felt him in every fiber of my being. 

The music stopped. We stood still for a moment, still in the embrace called for by the dance. I glanced up quickly at his face. He was looking down at me and his face was oddly grave.

“Very nice,” Aunt Barbara said.

We dropped our hands and stepped away from each other as if she had reprimanded us.

Evan said, in a hearty voice that sounded a little forced, “Would you like to try it Maria? Do you dare to trust your toes to my ineptitude?”

Maria came toward us, her face bright. “I think you’re a wonderful dancer, Evan. You and Julia looked as if you had been dancing together forever.”

“Beginner’s luck,” I said. My voice sounded a little huskier than usual and I cleared my throat.

“Splendid, splendid, splendid,” said Mr. Martelli as Evan and Maria sailed around the floor.  “Never have I had such excellent pupils.”

“We have done very well,” Lizzie said with satisfaction. “I don’t think that any of us will disgrace ourselves if we attempt the waltz in public.”

Aunt Barbara rose from the piano and came to join us.  Evan had said something to Maria as they came off the floor and she was laughing up at him. 

Aunt Barbara bestowed an approving smile on her daughter, her nieces and her nephew.  “A successful morning,” she pronounced.  “Thank you, Mr. Martelli.”

“Yes, thank you very much,” Lizzie seconded. “It was great fun.”

Evan and I were silent.

Aunt Barbara rang the bell.  “I will have Grantly see you out,” she said to the dancing master.

After the door had closed behind them, Aunt Barbara said, “Now we must call upon Lady Sefton, and procure vouchers for Almack’s. That is where you should make your first appearance. We will have to wait until Julia’s clothing is delivered, however. She cannot go anywhere with her present wardrobe.”

I brought up the subject that I considered the most important part of my London visit. “The first thing we have to do is buy a horse.” I forced myself to look at Evan. “You did say you would.”

“I did,” he returned equably. 

“I want to help pick it out,” I said. 

“Impossible,” said Aunt Barbara. “I have already told you, Julia, that ladies cannot go to Tattersall’s. You will just have to tell Evan what you want and let him buy something for you.”

“I have picked out all my own horses since I outgrew my first pony,” I said fiercely. “And Evan knows about boats, not horses.”

Aunt Barbara said in measured tones, “You Cannot Go To Tattersall’s.” She looked at Evan. “I hope you understand that, Nephew, even if Julia does not.”

“I understand, Aunt,” Evan said.

I started to reply but, infinitesimally, he shook his head. I stopped.

Lizzie said, “It’s a nice day, Julia. Do you and Maria want to go for a walk in the park?”

Maria responded eagerly and after a moment I agreed.  I desperately needed some fresh air.  And I had to figure out a way to make Evan take me to Tattersalls. Perhaps Maria and Lizzie would have some ideas.

Chapter Fifteen

It was a beautiful early spring day and I was delighted to be getting out of the house.  I had hoped Evan would accompany us, but he had an appointment in the city.  So it was just Lizzie, Maria and me strolling along the walking paths and admiring the burgeoning green of trees and grass.

“I miss having a dog,” I said. 

What I really meant was that I missed the country.  Spring was so beautiful at Stoverton, with its rich green carpets of grass, its explosion of brilliant flowers, its clouds of exuberant birds. I wouldn’t dream of subjecting a dog to life in the city; it would be like a prison for him.

I walked along the path with my sister and my cousin, admiring a bright display of daffodils and inhaling the smell of grass and dirt.  The path ran along Rotten Row for a mile or so, and I watched the horses trotting up and down.  None of the
ton
were out at this hour, it was all middle class cits, dressed in proper riding clothes but with truly terrible seats.  It was obvious that none of them had grown up with horses. 

Lizzie and Maria had been chatting and when a brief silence fell between them I said, “I should have brought Isabella to London. I miss riding terribly and God knows what kind of nag Evan will pick out.” The injustice of it all burned in my chest. “I can’t see why I’m not allowed to choose my own horse. It’s just stupid that girls can’t go to Tattersall’s.”

Maria said, “You could always send for Isabella, Julia. I’m sure Evan wouldn’t mind. It would save him money, after all.”

This was true.  And I loved Isabella.  But I had to admit that I had been looking forward to the challenge of a new horse - a horse that
I
picked out.

“I suppose I could do that,” I muttered in response to Maria’s suggestion.

“Could you buy a horse someplace other than Tattersall’s?” Lizzie inquired. “Perhaps from a private seller?”