Page 34 of Henrietta

‘You told Mrs Dandridge last night that you could not wait to dance it!’ Trixie accused.

‘I am practically in my dotage.’ Lady Allerton adjusted the devastatingly low bodice of her lavender silk gown primly. ‘Young ladies’ reputations are such delicate things. One wouldn’t wish for gentlemen to get ideas.’

Trixie looked intrigued. ‘Ideas of what?’

‘Besides, you know how pressed for time Monsieur Dupont is at the moment – he could only spare an hour for Lady Pinkerton’s girls, and you will forgive me if I remark that that was insufficient.’

‘Ham hands,’ Timothy interpolated. ‘The whole family has ’em.’

‘There are surely other dancing masters,’ Arthur pointed out.

‘I’m not sure I could trust another,’ Lady Allerton fretted. ‘When one thinks where their hands could go!’

‘Where?’ Trixie demanded. ‘Where could they go? Hetty?’

Lady Allerton raised a hand to forestall any answer.

‘In Europe they did not think it in the least exceptional,’ Arthur tried to reassure his mother.

‘Europe’, Lady Allerton – formerly Mademoiselle Barbet – said darkly, ‘is a very different place.’

‘You make it sound so fast.’ Trixie sounded fascinated. ‘I should like to try it.’

Lady Allerton sent Arthur a rather Speaking Glance. He had to see her point: Trixie hardly needed more licence to romp about, but neither was he so unfeeling an elder brother as to wish her to be left out of something that would soon become a staple of fashionable life.

‘There are more Europeans arriving into London by the day,’ Arthur pointed out. ‘I predict – nay, I promise – that the dance will be widespread within the week, and you would not want Hetty and Trixie standing upon the sidelines, surely?’

Besides, he did not think the German waltz – though certainly danced at more close quarters than the usual English arrangements – quite as shocking as Lady Allerton was imagining. ‘Perhaps I can show you,’ Arthur offered.

Lady Allerton shook her head, on the point of refusing. ‘I am just not sure—’

‘Hetty, would you assist me?

Lady Allerton shut her mouth with a click. ‘Perhaps I ought to keep an open mind,’ she said magnanimously. ‘Yes, Hetty, do assist Arthur – Timothy, push the furniture back, will you?’

Hetty stood reluctantly. Learning a new dance was equally likely to be diverting or humiliating, and idea of discovering which it would be in Arthur’s presence was not particularly appealing.

‘There is no music,’ she objected. ‘And the pianoforte is with Mr Kemp for repair.’

‘He has had it an age,’ Trixie said crossly. ‘I have not been able to play all Season!’

Lady Allerton gave a sympathetic hum. In reality, of course, her ladyship had bade Mr Kemp keep the pianoforte safely away from Berkeley Square until the occasion of Trixie’s engagement, Trixie’s enthusiasm for musical pursuits so grossly outweighing her ability, Lady Allerton had deemed nothing to be so detrimental to her marital prospects than a gentleman hearing her rendition of ‘Für Elise’.

‘Perhaps you could hum an accompaniment,’ Arthur suggested.

Trixie brightened. ‘Timothy has to hum with me, though!’

‘I’ve just moved the furniture!’ Timothy, on his way back to the looking glass, objected strongly. ‘Perhaps you’d like me to make the dinner, too!’

Trixie stamped her foot. ‘Oh, you care for nothing but your neckcloth!’

‘How dare you! I care for all my clothes!’

‘Mama, make him hum!’

‘You will hum for us, won’t you, Timothy?’ Lady Allerton cajoled. ‘You have such a lovely baritone.’

Timothy softened. ‘I suppose someone has got to keep Trixie in tune.’