It was only after two laps of the room that I realised Kitty’s tactic was to keep moving so no man could stop either of us to ask to dance. It would have been rude to interrupt us while we were not seeking the attention of anyone else. If we kept walking and avoided any interference from her mother, I would not have to lose Kitty to the hand of a suitor, nor endure one myself. So I was surprised when, as the current dance came to an end, she pulled me to a stop.
“Dance with me,” she requested simply.
The intensity with which I wanted to was overwhelming, but it was still out of the question. It had been tempting enough in Pemberley, when all that had passed between us were brief brushes of fingers and hands. I had not then let myself imagine a future. Now that I had, I very much wanted to treat her like every other young woman got to treat her suitor. Her beloved.
“We shouldn’t,” I said.
Kitty was not so easily dissuaded. She squared her chin and took a step back, holding out her hand like a man formally asking a lady to dance.
“In Meryton we have a custom that, should a woman not be asked to dance by a man, she is free to pair up with a friend. We’ve been here ten minutes, and if no man is sensible enough to see how astounding you are in that time, none of them deserve you,” she declared.
I could not help but laugh. “We’ve been practically running away from anyone who might ask.”
“Please,” Kitty insisted.
I had no idea what I was thinking, or if I was even thinking at all, when I took her hand. This was a place where no one knew me. They could gossip all they wished, but eventually I was going to leave Meryton, and no rumours we started were likely to follow me. Kitty had plenty more to lose than I did. If she was willing to risk it, I ought to be, too.
We took our places for the dance alongside the other couples. There was no shortage of curious or confused looks, but none of anger. It made sense, I supposed, that no one would see us stood up together and automatically assume we were abnormal. If Kitty had been right about Meryton’s customs, then onlookers were more likely to pity us as spurned debutantes than abhor us as heathens. I minded not what they thought, so long as they left us be.
The one smile we were granted came from right beside us, where Elizabeth had paired herself with Darcy. That alone was uncouth—married couples rarely took to the dance floor,in what was deemed an activity for the courted and courting. If you weren’t dancing with a potential suitor, you were at least expected to be displaying your vitality and grace. But no one would deny a young married couple, clearly very much in love, a place in a dance.
“You look lovely, Georgiana,” Elizabeth said. “It’s good to see you at another ball. I was afraid your experiences at Pemberley might have put you off them forever.”
I looked almost plain, my dress unadorned and my hair so simple Emma had begged me to allow her to add more curls. If there was anything noticeable about me at all, it was the girl standing opposite me. I risked a fond smile in Kitty’s direction.
“It turns out I can be convinced to attend under the right circumstances.”
Elizabeth laughed, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So I see.”
“Is your leg strong enough to dance on?” Darcy asked, thankfully more preoccupied with my health than my choice of partner.
“I will be fine,” I assured him. “It is hardly the most strenuous of activities.”
Before he had time to argue, the musicians once again struck up their instruments and the dance began.
I already knew Kitty loved to dance, but I had never seen her smile quite so widely as when our hands met midway through a step. It felt everything and nothing like when I held her hand behind closed doors. It was just as intimate, eventhrough gloves, but seemed almost monumental. Daring. As if we were challenging the whole room to find fault and brushing any potential protests aside. The rest of the guests might not have understood the significance of what we were doing, but we both felt it.
I was no stranger to the dance’s steps, having been taught them all in precise detail, but they were buried further down in my memory than in Kitty’s. I found myself relying on her knowledge of the steps to stop me making a fool of myself.
Kitty shone when she danced, beaming wildly and moving with a kind of ethereal grace that lifted her skirts as she turned. It was a privilege to dance opposite her. Despite likely bringing her shame with my lack of coordination and thoroughly mundane motions, Kitty directed every smile at me.
When the dance drew to a close, Kitty squeezed my fingers quickly.
“Another?” she asked, eyes hopeful.
“People will talk,” I warned her, but it was teasing more than genuinely cautionary.
Kitty grinned. “Let them.”
We were both being reckless, and that should have been what persuaded me to stop, but instead it was a twinge in my knee that forced me to take a break.
“I think I better rest my leg, at least for one dance,” I said.
“I can sit with you?” Kitty offered, but I knew the dance floor was where she truly wanted to be, and I was in no hurry to begrudge her that.
Before I could insist she not let me get in the way of herfun, my brother stepped forwards with a rare and unexpected suggestion.
“If you are in need of a dance partner, Miss Bennet, it would be my honour.”
