Chapter 9 #2
Neither Mary nor her partner embarrassed themselves.
They did not trip or stumble over the other’s feet.
He asked her if she was enjoying her evening; she said that she was, and there the conversation closed.
At the dance’s conclusion, he led her back to her place, bowed politely, and moved away.
It was an entirely unexceptional encounter.
It was unlikely he would ask her again; and yet Mary’s sprits leapt.
A man—or, as honesty compelled her to admit, a boy—had danced with her.
To be asked was all she had wished for. She should not have to go home from her first ball and say no-one had chosen her.
She almost hugged herself as she looked around for Lizzy and Charlotte.
She could see no sign of Charlotte but thought she could just make out Elizabeth’s familiar form, on the other side of the room, talking with her usual animation to an attentive young man.
Was it her or not? Mary narrowed her eyes and peered into the distance.
So intent was she in looking for her sister, that she did not hear the quiet voice at her side the first time it addressed her.
“Excuse me, Miss Mary, I do not mean to intrude, but it is very bad for your eyes to screw them up in that way.”
She turned to find a young man standing before her, respectful but concerned, clearly dressed in his newest and smartest clothes. At first, she did not know him.
“Perhaps I may be permitted to help you find whatever or whomever you are looking for?”
“Mr. Sparrow? Mr. John Sparrow?”
He bowed and looked down, a little self-conscious.
“Please excuse me, Miss Bennet. I should not have presumed—but I did not want you to strain your eyes. I should not have spoken.”
“No, Mr. Sparrow, I am very grateful to you. After all, you know better than anyone what my difficulties are. May I take advantage of you, sir? I am looking for my sister Elizabeth. I thought I saw her towards that corner. Am I mistaken?”
“No, miss, you’re quite right. She was talking to a gentleman with whom she has just stood up.” He pointed towards the set of dancers readying themselves to begin. “I believe it is Captain Carter. Of the Herts Militia.”
That would not please Lydia, thought Mary to herself, and the ghost of a smile crossed her face. This seemed to encourage Mr. Sparrow, who shifted somewhat nervously in his place before speaking again.
“I wonder, Miss Mary, if you would do me the honour of standing up with me for the next dance?”
For the very briefest of moments, Mary hesitated; then, impelled by the surprising rush of pleasure his invitation had provoked, she accepted.
“I should be delighted to do so, Mr. Sparrow.”
He smiled back, relieved.
“Well, then, I thank you—that is to say, I’m very grateful. Very much so. Shall we remain here until the next set is called?”
Whilst they waited together at the edge of the dance floor, he asked how her spectacles had answered—had they made it easier for her to read and to sew?
“To tell the truth, Mr. Sparrow, I am no great hand with a needle, with spectacles or without. But I can’t thank you and your father enough for the improvement they have brought about in my reading. I can study for hours now, and even the smallest print holds no terrors for me.”
He was delighted to hear it. Might she tell him what she read with such enjoyment?
Mary looked at him warily. Was he teasing her?
But his sincere expression convinced her he really wished to know, and soon she found herself telling him about Mrs. Macaulay.
He nodded thoughtfully. His own preference, he explained, was for works of science, but on her recommendation, he should seek out that lady’s works and do his best to appreciate them.
“Are you a scholar, then, sir?”
He looked embarrassed.
“Not yet,” he admitted. “But I very much hope to become one. My interest is in optics and the mechanics of the eye. I suppose you might say that the apple has not fallen far from the tree in that respect.”
“But that’s an admirable thing,” replied Mary. “It is only natural you should wish to increase your knowledge of a subject already familiar to you.”
“I’m very glad you think so.” He leant a little towards her and continued in a low, confidential tone. “My father has it in mind to send me to study medicine. He says I have it within me to become a doctor.”
“You’ll go to the university, then?”
“No, my father says the best place for me is one of the London medical schools. He thinks Barts Hospital; or maybe Moorfields. Both are counted the very best in their field.”
For a moment, all his diffidence melted away; his face lit up with excitement at the thought of such a future. Then, just as suddenly, he remembered himself.
“But it is not a thing generally known. I have not mentioned it before to anyone but you.”
“It is a noble ambition, sir. I honour you for it. And I shall speak of it to no-one else.”
Then the music struck up, Mr. Sparrow held out his hand, and they made their way onto the floor.
This time, she enjoyed every moment of the dance.
The music was exhilarating; the push and pull of the other dancers as they changed partners and handed each other down the line made her feel joyfully connected, as though she was at the centre of an excited, happy band of friends.
For once she was part of the pleasure, not watching it from afar.
When reunited with Mr. Sparrow, they both beamed at each other, delighted to be together again.
When the music stopped, she was more sorry than she could say that the dance was over.
“Thank you, Mr. Sparrow,” she exclaimed as he showed her to a chair. “I liked that of all things!”
“So did I, so did I! It was the best dance I have had in a very long time. I suppose I could not persuade you to stand up with me again, if you are free?”
This time, Mary did not hesitate.
“I have no engagement for the next dance, sir, and would be delighted to be your partner again.”