Chapter Thirty One
Jane
Sevenoaks, Kent
I’ve been rather tardy about writing my journal entries, though I suppose that happens when the days and evenings are filled with so much that making time to scribble it down takes second place.
I cannot believe that so much time has passed, and that we will be going on to London to see my cousin Eliza before the week is out.
There have been several sittings with Mr Humphry, and I am quite pleased with my picture, having expected to see my head on one side, all white and red, but I find I look tolerably well.
Part of the background is washed in, and it does remind me of the park with one of the dewponds glistening in the middle distance.
Mr Humphry showed me his special monogram that he likes to use to sign his pictures, and there in the crook of a tree branch he has hidden a letter H inside a letter O, so that it looks a part of the painting.
It is not yet complete, but I think commissions at Knole have taken precedence; I believe Mr Humphry is also engaged in copying pictures for the Duke, some of which will hang elsewhere.
My uncle has announced a farewell dinner to which he has invited our friends from Seal, one or two families from Sevenoaks, our cousins, and their parents.
We saw the Motley-Austens on another occasion, which was a very amiable one.
Cassy was much admired, though I was hardly noticed or spoken to which I much preferred.
They are very fine, both in their dress and their manners.
Thomas is so unlike them in every way that I cannot help feeling pleased.
He loves nothing more than rushing round the grounds in an old shirt and breeches, more interested in comfort than fashion, but I suppose all boys of his age are alike in that respect.
We’ve become inseparable during our time together, despite some efforts to keep us apart, and I adore him quite as much as any of my brothers.
Cassy scolds me for my behaviour sometimes - she says I must not forget I am a girl, but when I’m with Thomas I can be exactly as I wish to be, and I know he prefers a girl who loves to run, ride horses at breakneck speed, and play cricket.
I am to wear my gown with the glossy spots tomorrow evening, and I will have to behave very differently, but I am looking forward to the dancing.
Thomas asked me if we could go through some of the steps together this afternoon.
I hope he can dance and doesn’t turn out to be a clumsy oaf.
I should like nothing better than to dance with him, and show him how it’s done.
So often he is the master of all he knows so it will be refreshing to teach him something and show him that I am quite superior when it comes to dancing.
I am meeting him at the stables where, with luck, we shall not be observed.
***
I’d hoped we were going to practise outside under a blue sky, but the weather had taken a turn, and rain was lashing down, a summer storm that I wished would soon blow over.
I knew Mama would not let me go out if she had half an idea of what I’d planned, for she has a terrible fear of the properties of water and the heinous harm it can do if one gets wet through, so I slipped out when she and Cassy were busy in the drawing room with their needlework.
As I ran across the terrace there was a resounding clap of thunder and a streak of white light tore the gunpowder sky in two.
The rain fell in torrents soaking me to the skin, and I ran as hard as I could with my cloak over my head to stop my hair from getting wet.
I could see Thomas already waiting in the doorway, and as he waved, a huge grin on his face, I felt quite self-conscious, knowing he was watching my every step.
It was dark, and very warm inside the stables when I reached him.
Dripping with the rain that ran in rivulets down my neck, my cotton dress was wet and clinging, which made me feel more conscious of my appearance than ever.
Thomas produced a handkerchief and I patted at my face, tamping my wet clothes with the linen square, pulling the damp cotton away from the body that betrayed me by showing too many budding curves, while trying very hard not to draw attention to myself.
When I gave it back it was sopping and rumpled, but he only laughed and hung it up to dry on a wooden beam above his head.
‘Where are the groomsman and the stable-boys?’ I asked, conscious that we were alone, and that if I were found out I’d be scolded and reprimanded, even kept in or denied attending the party, which I really didn’t want to miss, despite the horrors of meeting people I didn’t know.
‘They’re all out with the horses, probably sheltering in the woods till the storm abates, I shouldn’t wonder.
Robinson said he’d play for us on his whistle when they get back.
He’s clever with his hands … he fashioned it himself from a piece of wood he found in the park, and when he plays it, you never heard such pretty tunes.
So, how do we begin, Miss Jane? I’m sure I’ve forgotten every step of every dance I was ever taught. ’
He was looking at me so earnestly; I couldn’t help laughing at him. ‘Let us start with a country dance,’ I said, ‘That should dry us off and help us lose our inhibitions.’
‘There isn’t room here,’ he said. ‘Not that I’m trying to divert the course of our instruction, but we may have more luck if we go further inside.’
As the storm continued to rage overhead, I followed him down past the empty stalls until the space widened out into an area where the horses were groomed, and the stable boys sheltered from the rain.
It was even gloomier, though a shaft of dim light pierced through the roof where a steady drip of water pinged into a bucket left on purpose to catch the raindrops.
We kicked the hay bales into the corners, sending wisps of straw floating in the air above our heads, and Thomas found a besom to brush the boards so we had a smooth surface to dance on.
‘May I suggest a cotillion?’ he said. ‘I can fudge along in a country dance with the rest of them, but when it comes to crossing hands and arms I just get in a muddle. I’ll show you the start of one I know, and then you must take over and correct me where I’m going wrong.’
It started sedately enough as we bowed and curtseyed before stepping round in a circle, then Thomas declared it was all wrong because we should be holding hands.
I wasn’t wearing any gloves, and it felt very bold to allow him to take my hand, but I concentrated on the steps, though I could feel my cheeks burning.
It felt so very odd to feel his fingers entwined in mine, especially without any music, and it made me feel flustered, so much so that I couldn’t look at his face.
‘This is a little difficult with only two people for the next part,’ he said, ‘because we don’t link arms with the person standing next to us, we miss one out.
Anyway, let’s pretend. If I stand a person’s length away from you, we should be able to manage, though I know I shall get the arms all wrong. ’
I’d already guessed which dance we were to perform, I’d seen Cassy practising it hundreds of times with Henry and James, and had even tried it once or twice myself.
‘If we stand opposite one another for a moment,’ I said, ‘all you have to think about is tucking your right arm behind you. I tuck my left arm behind me as we move, ready to receive your hands. If you can remember how that feels it will help, so let’s practise the hold without dancing.’
Thomas stood to attention in front of me as solemn as a soldier, his arm behind his back.
‘Now, it’s a movement we undertake at the same time, where you take my left arm behind my back with your right,’ I said, ‘and I pass my right arm through under yours to catch your left hand … which is behind your back, of course. If we were dancing, we’d move in a circle at the same time.
Oh, let’s just do it … it’s so much harder to explain in words. ’
We got our arms completely mixed up at the first attempt, but I think Thomas did it on purpose, trying to break the tension between us, which seemed particularly heightened that morning.
I couldn’t stop laughing, and really got the giggles, but then he looked very grave and said he was ready to make such swift movements without any mistakes, that no one would be able to take him for a novice.
The next move was far more successful - each hand found the right one to hold, and we accomplished it so easily that I think we were both stunned for a moment or two.
Our heads were turned to the other, locked as we were, hands grasped firmly.
I was conscious of my clinging dress outlining the curves of my figure, and the flicker of Thomas’s staring eyes, wavering on my face, his breath like a whisper.
I noticed tiny beads of moisture on his hairline, and when our eyes met I felt as if those two vast pools of blue were drawing me in, feeling a connection between us like never before.
His eyes dropped to my lips and back to my eyes, and in my confusion I pulled my fingers away. I didn’t think I could go on.
‘What’s the matter, Jane? I didn’t hold your hands too tightly, did I?’
‘No,’ I said, casting my eyes to the oak boards where a piece of straw stirred by a gust of wind lifted from the floor, twirling into motion.
‘Or is it simply the fact that you know in your heart something that you’ve long suspected …’
‘Whatever do you mean?’ I said, my eyes fixed on his again, the blood pulsing in my veins and so loudly in my head I could hear it.