The Nonesuch

The room had been cleared for dancing, and the musicians from Harrogate were tuning their instruments. Mrs Underhill, explaining that she thought the young people would like to dance, had begged Sir Waldo not to think himself obliged to take part, if he did not care for it, which had made it easy for him to range himself amongst the elders of the party. He might be noted for his courtesy but he had not the remotest intention of standing up with a dozen provincial girls through a succession of country dances. But when the first set was forming he went up to Miss Trent, and solicited the honour of leading her into it. She declined it, but could not help feeling gratified.

“That’s a set-down!” remarked Sir Waldo. “Are you going to tell me that you don’t dance, ma’am?”

She was thrown into a little natural confusion by this unexpected rejoinder, and said with less than her usual calm: “No, thank you. That is, yes, of course I do, but not—I mean—”

“Go on!” he said encouragingly, as she stopped, vexed with herself for being suddenly so gauche.“You do dance, but not with—er—gentlemen who are addicted to sporting pursuits! Have I that correctly?”

She looked quickly at him. “Did I say that?”

“Yes, and in a tone of severe disapprobation. You did not then tell me you preferred not to dance with me, of course: the occasion hadn’t arisen.”

“I haven’t told you so now, sir!” she replied, with spirit. “I said—I hope civilly!—that I don’t dance at all!”

“After which,” he reminded her, “you said that you do dance, but not—! Civility then overcame you, I collect! Quite tied your tongue, in fact! So I came to your rescue. I wish you will tell me what I’ve done to earn your disapproval.”

“You are quite mistaken, sir. You must know that you have done nothing. I assure you I don’t disapprove of you!”

“Just my imagination, Miss Trent? I don’t believe it, but I’m very ready to be convinced. Shall we join this set?”

“Sir Waldo, you are labouring under a misapprehension! It would be most improper in me to stand up with you, or with anyone! I’m not a guest here: I am the governess!”

“Yes, but a most superior female!” he murmured.

She looked at him in some astonishment. “Did you know it, then? And asked me to dance? Well, I’m very much obliged to you, but I think it shows a strange want of conduct in you! To ask the governess rather than Miss Wield—!”

“My cousin was before me. Now, don’t recite me a catalogue of the girls I might have asked to stand up with me! I daresay they are very amiable, I can see that one or two are pretty, and I know that I should find them all dead bores. I’m glad you won’t dance: I had rather by far talk to you!”

“Well, it won’t do!” she said resolutely. “I am quite beneath your touch, sir!”

“No, no, that’s coming it much too strong!” he said. “When I have it on excellent authority that your uncle is a General!”

For a moment she suspected him of mockery; then she met his eyes, and realized that the laughter in them was at a joke he believed she would appreciate. She said, with a quivering lip: “D-did Mrs Underhill say that? Oh, dear! I shouldn’t think you could possibly believe that she didn’t learn about my uncle from me, but I promise you she didn’t!”

“Another of my misapprehensions! I had naturally supposed that you introduced him into every conversation, and had been wondering how it came about that you forgot to mention him when we first met.”

She choked. “I wish you will stop trying to make me laugh! Do, pray, Sir Waldo, go and talk to Mrs Mickleby, or Lady Colebatch, or someone! I might have twenty generals in my family, but I should still be the governess, and you must know that governesses remain discreetly in the background.”

“That sounds like fustian,” he remarked.

“Well, it isn’t! It—it is a matter of social usage. It will be thought most unbecoming in me to put myself forward. I can see that already Mrs Banningham is wondering what can possess you to stand talking to me like this! Just the thing to set people in a bustle! You may stand on too high a form to care for the world’s opinion, but I can assure you I don’t!”

“Oh, I’m not nearly as arrogant as you think!” he assured her. “Setting people in a bustle is the last thing I wish to do! But I find it hard to believe that even the most deplorably top-lofty matron could think it remarkable that I should engage in conversation the niece of one of my acquaintances. I should rather suppose that she would think it abominably uncivil of me not to do so!”

“Are you acquainted with my uncle?” she demanded.

“Of course I am: we are members of the same club! I don’t mean to boast, however! He is an older and by far more distinguished man than I am, and acquaintance is all I claim.”

She smiled, but looked rather searchingly at him. “Are you also acquainted with his son, sir? My cousin, Mr Bernard Trent?”

“Not to my knowledge. Ought I to be?”