Page 28 of Under a Dancing Star

“A romantic experiment?” Ben shakes his head. “What happened to, I don’t know … hearts and poetry and love in a gardenia-scented garden? Aren’t women supposed to care about those things?”

“I don’t think gardenias would do very well here,” I say doubtfully, taking a bite of food. “They might struggle with the heat and dryness. They can be very temperamental.”

“The gardenias are irrelevant!” Ben exclaims in tones of exasperation.

“Well, you brought them up.” I look at him. “Is that what you want then?” I ask, curious. “Hearts and poetry and gardenias?”

Ursula laughs into the wine glass at her lips.

“Me?” Ben looks stricken. “God, no. That’s the last thing I’m looking for.” He shifts awkwardly. “But that’s what women want, isn’t it?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t know.”

“If you’ve never been the subject of romantic attentions in England, then all I can say is the Englishmen must be a very cold breed,” says Klaus gallantly.

I hesitate. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly. But, well – you’d understand if you’d met Cuthbert.”

“Who’s Cuthbert?” Ursula asks, leaning back as she lights a cigarette.

I tell them the whole story of our brief “courtship”, including the disastrous dinner party, and by the time I finish they’re all laughing. Ursula, more animated than I have ever seen her, wipes tears from her eyes.

“You lectured the vicar on the mating habits of glow-worms?” Ben asks, weakly. “Of course you did.”

“I wish I had seen it,” Ursula manages. “So that’s the plan, is it?” she continues more thoughtfully now. “Your parents want to marry you off to a weak-chinned aristocrat and move him into the family manor?”

“That’s about the size of it.” I feel a pang as I remember my mother’s letter, shoved out of sight in my room. “They’re not doing it to be cruel,” I add quickly. “I know they genuinely think it’s what’s best for me. They just can’t conceive of the kind of life I want for myself.”

“And you’re going to let them do it?” Ben asks, his eyes on mine. “You’ll let them marry you off to the poor sap?”

“I don’t know. I think they’ve always thought I’d change,” I say. I look at my hands in my lap. “The thing is,” I add, and my voice is low now. “I almost wish I could change too. Be someone else: the daughter they want. Despite everything, I do want to make them happy. I suppose settling down and marrying a Cuthbert type is what I’ll do in the end. I don’t really have a lot of options, do I? I can’t just hang around the house for ever. And” – I try to sound a bit more cheerful – “I suppose marriage would bring a sort of freedom – from my parents’ rules at least.”

There’s a long silence after this, and I’m quite glad that no one says anything. I probably couldn’t have said all that in the daylight, but here, in the quiet, under a blanket of stars, it feels like there’s space for whispered secrets.

“Well,” Klaus says, breaking the silence. “Under these circumstances a summer romance would appear to be just the thing.”

“Yes,” Ursula says. “Exactly the thing. One summer of dalliance – kisses and romantic gestures – but with no expectations for the future.”

I snort. “Romantic gestures? You’re as bad as Ben.”

“Well,” Ursula smirks. “He is, after all, the most notorious flirt for miles around.”

I crunch into one of Rosa’s cannoli, briefly closing my eyes with pleasure. “I have actually been observing Ben’s efforts at flirtation for a while,” I say, licking cream from my fingers. “And I must say I find the dynamic quite fascinating. Although, I doubt that those particular charms would have much effect on me.”

Ben is unruffled. “I think you’ll find that if I wanted to win you over, I could do it fairly easily.”

“Why not put it to the test?” Ursula asks.

Ben leans forward and takes a pastry. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Ursula says slowly. “On the one hand we have Bea, who has no experience of romance, and on the other we have Ben, seasoned womanizer and expert in the art of romance, who claims he could win the heart of any lady.” She smiles and I now see her expression for what it is: pure mischief. “I think the solution is obvious.”

There’s a choking sound as Ben inhales a little of his cannoli.

“But – but that’s a terrible idea,” I say, once I can speak.

Ursula smiles. “Why?” she asks. “Are you afraid?”

“No!” I exclaim. “Absolutely not. It’s just – it’s completely ridiculous.”