Charlotte leaned in, kissed her friend on the cheek, and bid her adieu.
Ellen, Charlotte’s maid, had taken a few minutes in the vicarage herb garden to allow Charlotte privacy, and now they made their way together to Mrs. Dunsdale, the town’s most accomplished dressmaker.
The streets of Alnwick teemed with people. Women in thick woolen shawls and plain-colored skirts devoid of the popular bustles of Town bought what meager goods they could in preparation for Sunday. Tired-looking men led their just-as-tired horses to the blacksmiths, and many dirt-covered young men entered the nearby pub to spend what little excess coin they owned on libations.
All of this was to be expected when coming to town on Saturday, but today the town square swelled with people. Then Charlotte heard it: sounds of a small pipe and a fiddle emanating from somewhere up ahead. The tune immediately drew her in. She’d read about and heard the pipes on many occasions, but hearing it just after conversing with Rebekah about them added to the thrill.
She turned to Ellen eagerly. “Shall we see what the fuss is about?”
Ellen tilted her head, disapproval in her eyes, but Charlotte tugged at her elbow. “Just for a little while.”
She pressed through the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the instrumentalists. Craning her neck around a man in a gray bowler hat, she saw the center of the group start to open, creating a circle in which a few dancers stood poised to begin.
“We encourage ye to contribute,” one of the instrumentalists called to the crowd, pointing to his upturned hat near the edge of the circle. A few good-humored people cast a halfpenny inside, and the crowd cheered as the dancers began.
Charlotte reached for her reticle, thrusting her hand inside to feel for any bit of charcoal or paper. She usually carried something with her in case she wanted to sketch something she’d wish to paint later, and today she was in luck.
As though her pencil had a mind of its own, it began to capture the scene. Had Christopher been with her, he would have snatched up her paper and told her how silly she was to care about the musical traditions of the lower class. Charlotte found all the local music celebrations fascinating. If only Rebekah were with her. This was the perfect example of the unique heritage of Northumberland to compile into their record of the local traditions.
As the pipes increased their tempo, a group of five dancers pulled to the middle. Long, flexible swords glinted in their hands, and black leather shoes adorned the men’s feet, prepared for the traditional rapper dance. Charlotte’s heart started to beat in time with the music, and the drone of the pipe sent an underlying thrill through the crowd. She’d never seen this dance before, only heard about it from Rebekah’s descriptions. Rebekah had been allowed a great deal of interaction with the local people. Charlotte’s family, however, tried as much as they could to keep up with the traditions of London and high Society. Very seldom had they participated in local celebrations like this one.
The group continued their dance, and Charlotte had never seen anyone so agile. Each of the men jumped around and over and under the decorative knives as the music increased in intensity. Charlotte scrawled her charcoal over the page, trying to capture the tapping shoes and long swords as the crowd started clapping. Even Ellen, who’d made her way next to Charlotte, smiled and swayed along with the music, bringing her hands together in time with the fiddle.
After a few minutes, the dance concluded, and the crowd erupted into cheers. More coins flew into the hat, and one of the dancers clapped his hands together and gestured toward the crowd in gratitude. “While we catch our breath, let the music play, and ye can dance along!”
Someone from the crowd shouted, “Ho!” and a few couples moved into the center. The crowd widened instinctively, making Charlotte and Ellen a part of the first row of spectators.
Having captured what she wished to, she placed her paper and charcoal back inside her reticule. As she did so, a man extended his hand toward Ellen. A smile grew on the maid’s face, and she took his hand when Charlotte nodded her encouragement. Her eyes were on Ellen when another gentleman extended his hand to her.
The man looked carefully around him, his hat pulled low on his head, and then lifted his chin just enough to reveal his face. “And now it’s my turn to realize it’s you before you know it’s me.”
She peered at the familiar countenance and stifled a gasp.
Alex’s wide smile pulled up on one side, and Charlotte couldn’t believe his audacity.
“Oh! Of all the surprising notions—”
“You didn’t see yourself in the arms of a capable, handsome dance partner?” A roguish eyebrow lifted high as he entered the dancing position and Charlotte placed her hand in his.
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Are you quite sure this is a good idea?”
“Why would it not be?” His brows danced, his entire countenance full of flirtation, and though she was still a little nervous, she wanted to agree with him. Never had she been in such an informal situation with a gentleman, let alone a forbidden one at that.
“If someone were to recognize us and see us together—”
“I understand your concern.” He gave her hand a squeeze and glanced around. “You don’t see anyone you know, do you?”
Charlotte surveyed the group of mostly lower-class workers. She shook her head.
“Then, might you favor me with a dance, just this once?” His inviting lips pulled into a grin that was hard to deny.
“You have certainly never lacked confidence,” she said. Except, perhaps, when he’d first recognized her the other day. Regardless, she liked his surety. She always had. He was so definitive when she’d been so unable to declare what she liked. Even now, as thoughts of Christopher’s disapproval threatened her nerves, Alex’s assurance dissolved her fears until they melted away. She shook her head, laughing at his wide smile. “You truly think yourself capable of leading me in this dance?”
“Well then.” He scoffed. “Perhaps you should lead me. Do you know the dance well enough to challenge my abilities?”
“Not exactly,” she said.
“Perhaps you should try trusting me.”
