Chapter Twelve #2
She set her shoulders back. "I concede, sir, that we have very much got off on the wrong foot.
My aunt Lydia is quite concerned that this evening should be a success, and therefore I ask that we conduct ourselves with civility for the remainder of it.
And if not civility, then at least polite silence.
" She placed particular emphasis upon the final word.
One of his eyebrows rose, but some of the sternness dropped from his features and the corner of his mouth twitched. "I have not known you for very long, Miss Bennet, but I am not entirely certain polite silence is within your gift."
Bella fought down a laugh. "If you think I am bad, you should meet my sister Mina. She has never used one word when fifteen will do."
"So the mysterious Miss Bennet has a family."
"Of course I have a family. What did you imagine? That I sprang up in a field one morning amongst the potatoes and simply appeared in Cornwall fully grown?"
"I had no notion, Miss Bennet. You are an exceedingly mysterious woman."
"You are one to talk."
He smiled properly then, showing a deep dimple on the left side of his mouth, and for a moment Bella forgot she was supposed to be irritated with him.
"Remember," he said, "you were the one who requested cordiality."
"I was, sir, but I do not think either of us is particularly accomplished at it, so perhaps we should settle upon a neutral subject." She considered him. "Will you tell me of your family?"
He did, briefly, and before Bella quite knew how it had happened she found herself speaking in return.
She told him of her mother and father, of Kate and Mina, of the beauty of the Derbyshire hills and the beloved home in which she had grown up.
She did not mention its grandeur or that she would one day inherit Pemberley and doubted he would put the pieces together for himself.
Most great estates passed through the male line, and there was no reason for him to imagine that Pemberley would be any different.
He listened with quiet attention, his expression occasionally softening in a way that made warmth creep into her cheeks.
"It sounds quite a lovely setting," he said when she finally stopped. "And a quiet sort of life, Miss Bennet. Very different from rough-and-ready Falmouth. What brought you here?"
Bella opened her mouth, but found the answer strangely difficult to form.
"Damn good mackerel!" Mr Turnpike's voice tore across the table from beside her. He thumped one hand on the table in appreciation, rattling several glasses and breaking whatever strange spell had settled between Bella and the captain.
Bella almost laughed with relief and applied herself to the fish. When Captain Harwood attempted to return to his question later, she answered only in generalities, and by the end of the meal the conversation had drifted onto safer ground.
There was no separation of the sexes afterwards.
Aunt Lydia had declared that cigars and brandy in one room for the gentlemen and tea in another for the ladies was exceedingly dull and they would all have a much jollier time together.
When they returned to the largest parlour, Bella discovered that the rugs had already been rolled back and most of the furniture pushed against the walls.
Mrs Cassidy took her place at the pianoforte with the ease of someone who had performed the office many times before, while Mr Malcolm, resplendent in his brightly coloured waistcoat, produced a fiddle from somewhere and joined her.
Lydia stood in the middle of the cleared floor and clapped her hands together. "Now for dancing!"
She promptly claimed the hand of a small, round gentleman of approximately her own age and drew him into the first set. While Mrs Gossling and Miss Blaine stood up together with no small amount of giggling.
Bella remained near the edge of the room, still uncertain in such new company and such free surroundings, when a familiar voice sounded close beside her.
"Miss Bennet." She turned. Captain Harwood had appeared at her elbow and was holding out his hand.
Bella stared down at it. His fingers were long and elegant, though there were faint calluses across his palm that spoke of years spent in rough work. She had the disturbing thought of wondering what they might feel like against the skin of her cheek.
"Shall we?" he asked in that deep voice of his.
"Very well." Bella placed her hand in his and attempted a mildly bored tone, although her heart was already beating hard against her ribs as he manoeuvred her onto the makeshift dance floor.
It was a lively country dance, and Captain Harwood surprised her by being both elegant and enthusiastic.
Bella soon lost herself in the rhythm of the music and the movement of the figures, forgetting the room around them each time their hands met.
By the end of the first dance she could feel drops of perspiration at the hollow of her spine and knew that Clara would be horrified by the state of the carefully arranged curls around her face, which must be hopelessly flattened.
When the music began again, Captain Harwood was still beside her.
And when it began a third time, he was still there.
Bella knew perfectly well that three dances with the same gentleman was enough to set tongues wagging in a London ballroom, but this was not London and nothing about her aunt's gathering seemed concerned with the usual rules.
Each time Captain Harwood's hand found hers or settled briefly at her waist as the figures required, his eyes caught hers in the candlelight and a rush of such simple, unadulterated joy went through her that she stopped thinking about anything else but the beat of the music and the feel of his hand.
It was only when Aunt Lydia appeared at her shoulder at the end of the third and gave her a long look that Bella realised how long they had been together. "Beautiful Bella, Captain Harwood cannot monopolise you for the whole evening," her aunt said lightly.
Lydia's eyes flicked pointedly towards him. Heat climbed up Bella's neck. If Aunt Lydia thought their behaviour sufficiently improper to intervene, goodness knew what everyone else must think.
George ran one hand around the back of his neck and then through his hair, which was now slightly dishevelled and damp from the exertion. "Yes. Quite. Thank you for the dances, Miss Bennet. I am afraid I must be gone in any event. I have a little business to attend to."
He did not look at Bella as he spoke, instead fixing his attention on some point beyond her shoulder, and she felt unreasonably irritated by the abrupt change in his manner.
"Business? At this time?"
His eyes snapped back to hers. "I have told you before, Miss Bennet, that I do not intend to discuss my business dealings with a young lady with whom I am so little acquainted."
Bella bristled. "You did not seem to consider us so little acquainted while you were commanding my company for the last three dances."
Something flashed across his face. Was it regret? "Yes, well." He glanced away. "I lost track."
Bella did not know whether to be pleased or insulted by the admission.
"If you will excuse me, ladies." With that, he bowed to Lydia and then to Bella before making his way rather quickly through the room and disappearing into the hall.
Bella watched him go. Apparently Captain Harwood's mysterious business could not wait.