“I am as surprised as you.”
“The Darcys are unusual, themselves.”
“They are,” I said, wondering how to interpret that. “Do they share their secrets with you?”
He answered seriously, “I cannot be specific outside their presence.”
“Of course.”
“What of you, Miss Woodhouse, who has been surprised in London? Do you know Darcy secrets?”
I crossed my arms, thinking. He stood leaning his elbow on the railing, in profile to the lamps. His hair was tight ringlets tied back in an old-fashioned style, and the coils gleamed.
“They have shared secrets,” I answered.
“And do you tell the Darcys your secrets?”
“Not all of them,” I whispered, and my heart shivered. “Will you excuse me?”
I crossed the lamplit deck to where Harriet was laughing with the others. She looked beautiful and happy, and my determination to protect her warmed me.
“Miss Woodhouse,” she cried out. “Are you not cold? We have wine mulled with cinnamon.” She hiccupped.
“I see that,” I said. The heated wine was in coffee cups much larger than any wine cup Harriet had encountered. “Perhaps you have had enough?” She blinked at me unevenly, so I took her cup and said, “Yes, you have had enough.” She gave a whimsical shrug, and we settled beside each other on the fabric bales.
The music began. After talk of genius, it was simple tunes—folk songs of the Irish, Celts, or farther places, all tending to melancholy and reminiscence. Each was introduced by a single musician who explained where he or she had heard it, the mode or key, and musical details beyond my knowledge. Thatperson would begin, singing or playing a violin or a flute, then after a few bars, others would join. The ensemble was perfect. They were clearly skilled beyond our Highbury performers. Mr. Knightley did not unpack his violin, which was a disappointment, but he sang, harmonizing in his tenor.
After a half-dozen songs, true night had fallen, and the light was all from our lanterns. I checked my watch.
“It is after five,” I said to Harriet. “We should depart. We are moving from Chathford this evening.” She pouted but nodded, so we rose, shook out our skirts, and asked how, in fact, wecoulddepart.
Captain Freeman immediately protested. “That’s what comes of dreary music! The ladies leave. Why not play a happy tune to finish?”
“A reel!” Harriet cried with a clap of her hands. “You did say you could play a reel, Mr. Knightley.”
“I did,” he agreed, smiling. He took out his violin and began tuning the strings, clucking in dismay at the effect of the cold. I watched Harriet’s face fall as she realized this meant he would not dance, but she cheered up and accepted Captain Freeman’s offer. The married couple joined them in a square, and I sat down to show I was content to watch.
Mr. Knightley and the other violinist started a wildly spirited tune. It was immediately apparent that Captain Freeman’s concept of a reel was different from a reel in Surrey—he seemed to be dancing a jig despite the conflicting time signature—but it all blended into laughter, the clop of heels on the hollow deck, and flamboyantly waved hands. I applauded loudly at the end.
Amid the congratulations and jokes, Mr. Knightley approached and offered his hand. I pulled with unladylike enthusiasm to rise from my bale of wool.
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
“Will you not have a dance before you go?” he said.
“I have not danced for some time. I have forgotten my steps.” I had not dared a ballroom since Papa became ill.
Mr. Knightley had a considering smile. “There is a dance with simple steps.”
I eyed him skeptically. “That does not sound like a proper dance.”
“Society would disagree. It is the highest fashion of the season.” He raised his voice to his friends. “Gentlemen! What dance is the highest fashion in London?”
“The German waltz,” they replied as one, with eye rolls and groans as if they were very tired of it.
“The German waltz,” Mr. Knightley repeated. “May I have the honor?”
He presented his hand. We were in a pool of lamplight, every face watching. His posture was formal, and it suddenly seemed a ball, where courtesy required that an offer to dance was accepted.
