9
For a few moments, Jane could not breathe—all she was aware of was the warmth of his fingers through the thin silk bodice of her dress, and when he pulled her even closer to guide her in a circle, she could feel the pressure of his legs against hers even through the layers of her skirts and petticoats!
When she managed to draw breath, she realised Andrew and Celeste were also dancing; she could hear them talking and laughing over the sound of the piano.
“Why, Miss Jane, I do believe your skill does outshine that of your sister.” Archer’s voice in her ear forced her to raise her gaze from his shoulder and look up into his face.
She found her throat was dry and swallowed hard to get out her words. “I doubt that, Sir and I fear by her expression that we have annoyed your grandmother.”
Adroitly, Archer swung her round again to avoid the other couple. “Please don’t worry. I will make my apologies to her when we stop and tell her you could not refuse without seeming churlish. After all, you are the guest and if your host wants you to dance, then you are surely forced to agree?”
Jane tried to keep a stern expression on her face, but suddenly she found herself trying not to smile.
She had always loved dancing and had forgotten that she had vowed, after Digby, never to dance again except perhaps if she was forced to, with her papa or brothers.
And she was so pleased that she was wearing this dress, one that suited her so well.
Archer tightened his grasp on her hand. “Why, Miss Jane, are you laughing? Don’t tell me my skills are such that I am causing you amusement?”
“No, Sir, your skills are quite adequate for a waltz. I commend you. I fear poor Celeste is not faring as well. Dr Moore has trodden on her toes several times already.”
Archer gazed down at his companion’s fair head, at the ridiculous curl hanging down each cheek and for a second lost his step.
Quickly recovering, he tried to examine his feelings.
Dancing with Jane Darcy had been a sort of joke, an attempt to cut through the chilly veneer she showed towards him.
For some reason he had found it annoying that she could be warm and companionable to Andrew, but not to him.
But now, holding her in his arms, he found he was wishing they could dance on forever—no, this was ridiculous!
This was no Anne Darcy, this was not a girl of brilliance and wit who would be a help in his political career.
She was quiet, nervous, used to being taken care of with no sensible or modern thoughts in her head.
Why, he forced himself to remember, this was the girl who had fallen in love with that fatuous oaf Frobisher.
Surely that showed him what type of person she was?
Jane felt as if she was floating round the room.
How could it be possible for two almost strangers to be so in step with each other?
Her whole body felt soft and relaxed and she found she was wishing they could dance on forever—no, this was sheer folly!
She was forgetting all her solemn vows to have nothing to do with men ever again—especially men like Archer Maitland whom obviously preferred her sister and was probably at this very moment wishing it was Anne he held in his arms.
“You dance with your heart,” Archer murmured. “Most young ladies dance with their heads. Your sister, for example.”
Jane glanced up and felt a rush of colour to her face as she saw the intent way he was looking at her.
Suddenly the music came to an abrupt halt and Jane realised Lady Goddard had walked across to Miss Purkiss and stopped her playing. Archer stepped back, smiled, bowed and escorted Jane to a chair. Celeste joined her, looking flushed and happy; Jane only hoped she didn’t look the same.
“I must apologise, Grandmama,” Archer said smoothly.
“I know you are not a devotee of the waltz, but I fear I must practice sometimes because I have to be proficient when I return to London. This dance is all the rage in the best circles and I know you would not want me to look like a country bumpkin in front of some of the highest in the land.”
Jane could see the indecision on the old lady’s face; she was obviously angry with the performance but reluctant to make her grandson seem a fool.
“I take your point, Archer, although I still think it is morally reprehensible to dance so close to young ladies you hardly know. Of course, if Miss Jane’s sister had been here, it would have been an entirely different matter.”
“Of course, but alas she is not.” Archer’s voice hardened and there was an uneasy silence until Andrew broke it in his usual fashion of trying to keep the peace.
“Tell me, Archer, what is the significance of the term ‘Green Man Festival’? I overheard two fellows talking in the lane as I took my walk this evening.”
“Oh Andrew, you needn’t bother your head with village affairs,” Lady Goddard said.
“It’s a very old local custom, a dance of some sort held in Compton Forge every year at harvest time to celebrate an old deity, the Green Man,” Archer explained.
“Although who or what he was they cannot tell you. Just that if you do not do him homage, the next harvest will be blighted! The dancers gather in the village and progress up to the waterfall and the circle of standing stones you were looking at the other day. I believe there is then some sort of ceremony. Quite pagan, of course. The reasons are completely lost in time.”
“How interesting. Would you not care to attend?”
Archer laughed. “No, my friend, I would not be welcome and nor would you. We are foreigners to the local Dorset men.”
“Oh, it sounds charming. A village dance. I would love to see it!” Celeste’s eyes shone with excitement.
“I’m afraid that is quite out of the question, Signorina. If men who are not natives of the area are frowned upon, I can assure you that no women are allowed anywhere near the inn whilst the dance and procession is in progress.”
“Oh, of course, the Green Man Inn,” Jane said, glad of having to think of something other than dancing with Archer. “I’ve often wondered where it got its strange name from. The sign outside is too old and faded to see clearly.”
Her voice died away as a thought struck her. Her maid, Tabitha, had asked permission to attend a dance in the village that evening. But surely the other staff at Deerwood would know that women were not allowed and would prevent her from going?
“Are you certain we cannot attend?” Celeste pouted; she thought a dance in the dark of night sounded exciting.
“I can assure you that no young woman, no matter what her station in life, would go near the Green Man tonight,” Archer said gravely.
“These old country customs are steeped in tradition and the locals take them very seriously. It could be very dangerous to interfere in something that is centuries old.”
“Quite right, too,” Lady Goddard said dismissively.
“It is certainly not wise or proper to enquire into the pursuits of the local populace. Luckily, all our servants have been with us for years and are Londoners by birth. They would not care to indulge in such fripperies. And now I will ring for coffee. I think we have had enough dancing this evening. Too much exercise is not beneficial for young ladies.”
Jane sat for the rest of the evening in a state of high confusion.
Tabitha was her responsibility; she had learnt that lesson from her mama over many years.
The servants who took care of the Darcys were due their protection.
She had given her maid permission to go to the village dance, admittedly in ignorance of any danger, but it would still be her fault if harm befell her.
Archer couldn’t help but notice her abstracted air and was not alone.
Celeste brought her coffee cup back to the table where she sat and whispered to him—“I think dear Jane is miles away in her thoughts. Perhaps it is memories of the young man she had such tender feelings for this summer that take up all her attention.”
A few non-committal words were his reply and he swiftly turned his attention to his grandmother, who was obviously still annoyed by the dancing.
The evening was coming to an end and finally the carriage was called for, cloaks were brought and Jane and Celeste were making their thank-yous and goodbyes.
Archer escorted them out into the dark night and checked that the postillion had two bright lanterns lit, one attached to a horse’s bridle, the other on a pole he carried before to illuminate the track.
Celeste was handed into the carriage and as Archer turned to assist Jane, he realised she was in urgent conversation with the driver.
“Nay, Miss Darcy, I daren‘t drive you there. Lord, what would the Colonel say if I did that?”
“But John, it won’t take us more than five minutes and …”
“Is there a problem, Miss Jane?”
The girl spun round, fair hair cascading from inside the hood of her cloak. “Oh Mr Maitland—please, tell John here that he must drive me down to the village before we go home. My maid, Tabitha, has gone to the dance tonight at the Green Man.”
“Good Lord why! Who allowed that?”
Jane flushed deeply at the accusation in his voice. “I take full responsibility, Sir. She asked leave to attend and I saw no reason at the time to stop her going. Of course, if I had known it was forbidden, then I would have told her so.”
Privately Jane thought that Tabitha, who had originally joined the Darcy household in London before moving up to Pemberley, was a very sensible, forthright girl who would have laughed at the thought of a bunch of farmers, waggoners and shepherds being a danger.
She was well aware that all the servants hired from big cities looked down their noses at their country cousins.