The Nonesuch

She smiled gratefully at him, but said simply: “I don’t think Mama would permit it.”

“Wouldn’t she? Not even when she knows Mrs Mickleby sanctions it?”

She shook her head, but closed her lips on speech. A lady of true quality, said Mama, did not puff off her consequence: anything of that nature belonged to the mushroom class! Mama never mentioned the matter, but she was far better bred than the Squire’s wife, and well did Patience know that she would be considerably affronted by any suggestion that she should accept Mrs Mickleby as a model.

“Does she believe it to be an improper dance?” asked Lindeth. “So too did my own mother, until she saw that it was no such thing. I shall see if I can’t persuade Mrs Chartley to relent! It would be too bad if you were obliged merely to watch it!”

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t succeed,” she said, thinking there was no real intention behind his words.

She was mistaken. When they reached the Rectory Lindeth entered it with her, and was soon engaged in coaxing Mrs Chartley, recovering from her indisposition on the sofa in her drawing-room, to revise her opinion of the fast German dance which had become the rage in London.

She was by no means impervious to his charm, but her sense of propriety was strict, and it is doubtful whether he would have prevailed upon her to relax it had he not received support from an unexpected quarter. The Rector, coming into the room and learning what was the subject under discussion, said that since the world began each generation had condemned the manners and customs of the next. For himself, he would not judge a dance he had never seen performed. Smiling kindly upon Julian, he invited him to show them the steps.

“Mr Chartley!” protested his wife, in half-laughing reproach.

“I was very fond of dancing when I was young,” said the Rector reminiscently. “Dear me, what dashers we were! Always up to the knocker, as you young people would say!”

That made them all laugh; and when he told his wife that while he hoped no child of his would ever pass the line he found he could not wish his daughter to be a dowdy, Mrs Chartley flung up her hands in mock dismay, and consented to postpone judgment. The end of it was that Julian was persuaded to give Patience her first lesson, ably assisted by Miss Jane Chartley, who not only bullied her shrinking elder sister into standing up with him, but volunteered to play the music. This she did with great aplomb, strongly marking the time, in a manner which made her startled mama wonder who had taught her to play waltzes. It was certainly not her rather prim governess.

Patience (like her father) was very fond of dancing, and as soon as she had overcome her nervousness she showed herself to be an apt pupil, a trifle stiff when she found Lindeth’s arm round her for the first time, but quickly mastering the steps and the rhythm of the dance.

“Bravo!” applauded the Rector, gently clapping his hands. “Very pretty! Very pretty indeed!”

“Oh, do you think so, Papa?” Patience said eagerly. “I was dreadfully awkward, and kept missing my step! But, if you don’t think it indecorous, I-I should like to learn to do it correctly. It is so exhilarating!”

It was this impulsive utterance which made Mrs Chartley say, later: “My dear John, I marvel at your countenancing this most improper dance! When they went down the room together, with his left hand holding her right one above their heads, his right hand was clasping her waist!”

“For guidance, my love!” said the Rector. “Lindeth had no amorous intention! I saw nothing improper. Indeed, I should have wished to see Patience a trifle less unyielding—but I daresay she was awkward from ignorance!”

“It’s my belief,” said Mrs Chartley severely, “that you would like to dance the waltz yourself!”

“No, no, not at my age!” he said guiltily. A smile crept into his eyes. “But if it had been in fashion when I was a young man, and not, of course, in orders, I should have danced it—and with you, my love! Would you have disliked it?”

A dimple quivered in her cheek, but she said: “My mother would never have permitted such a thing. Do you, in all sincerity, expect me to permit Patience to—to twirl round a ball-room in a male embrace—for I can call it nothing less than that!”

“You are the best judge of what she should do, my dear, and I must leave it to you to decide. I must own, however, that I should not wish to see Patience sitting against the wall while her friends are, as you phrase it, twirling round the room.”

“No,” agreed Mrs Chartley, forcibly struck by this aspect. “No, indeed!”

“Far be it from me to desire her to outshine her friends,” said the Rector unconvincingly, “but I have sometimes thought that although she cannot rival little Tiffany’s beauty she is by far the more graceful dancer.”