“Well, send him home with an extra guinea, then, but don’t dress him in tails and expect me to dance with him. Just imagine what those hands have touched.”
The two girls passed out of earshot, and Daniel stepped forward, embarrassed and contemplating the quickest route to claim his coat and make his exit when a more pleasing voice called to him.
“Mr. Taylor. I am surprised to see you here.”
He turned and saw the welcome face of Charlotte Lamb. “Yes. I am not often invited to such as this.”
“And why not, I wonder?”
“It seems people do not like reminders of illness and death—and I’m afraid that’s what people think of when they see me. Do you?”
“Well, I don’t know. I—”
“Forgive me, Miss Lamb. I had no intention of raining on your pleasure this evening.”
“Now I see why many a wise hostess has left you off her guest list.” She smiled at him, clearly teasing, hoping to put him at ease.
“If you wonder if seeing you brings my mother to mind,” she continued, “I suppose it does. But you needn’t worry that you have ruined my evening. My mother is never very far from my thoughts.”
“You miss her a great deal, do you, Miss Lamb?”
“I do. But it is not a morbid missing, I hope. I think of her often and strive to remember her. I plan to tell my children all about her someday.”
“I have little memory of my own mother—she died when I was quite young.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Taylor. Why have you never told me this before?”
He shrugged.
“And worse, why have I never asked?”
“Do not make yourself uneasy. You have had your own worries.”
“You must think me a terribly self-interested person.”
“Caring for your mother is not selfish, Miss Lamb. Or if it is, it is the best kind of selfishness, I think.”
“You know, my mother was the least selfish person I think I’ve ever known. She would do anything for anybody, especially her children. I should like to be a mother like that someday.”
“I am certain you shall be, Miss Lamb.”
The music started, and after a glance at the musicians, Mr. Taylor looked back at Charlotte, clearly unsure of himself.
“I am a terrible dancer, Miss Lamb, but if you would care to ...?”
“I would, Mr. Taylor. Very much. It’s only that ... I’m afraid I have promised the first two dances to another gentleman.”
At that moment, emerging from a sea of feathered hats and swishing gowns, young William Bentley appeared, looking dapper in a fine tailcoat, striped waistcoat, and extravagant cravat that had no doubt cost ten times what his own had. At least Daniel had the pleasure of looking down at the boy, whose height barely surpassed Charlotte’s.
“There you are, Miss Lamb,” Bentley said with a bow. “I’ve come to claim you.”
“Mr. Taylor,” Charlotte said, turning to him, “may I present Mr. William Bentley, Mr. Harris’s nephew. Mr. Bentley, this is Mr. Daniel Taylor, physician’s apprentice and long-time family friend.”
“Physician, eh? And you have known Miss Lamb for some time?”
“A few years now, yes.”
“So you are uniquely qualified to give me your professional opinion about her.”
