For the ländler, Julia puts me with Jonas. He takes both my hands in the liberatingly silly manner required for this dance, and we begin to move.
One, two, three, one, two, three,I count in my head.
“I believe we must converse,” he says. “What shall we talk about?”
I shrug. “We could rehearse our lines if you’d like.”
“What a commendable idea, Miss Bingley! Which scene do you have in mind?”
I mentally review the scenes he and I have together. “How about the one where you’re writing a letter to Georgiana, and I’m badgering you?”
He nods.
We pirouette, and then I pull an unctuous face. “How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!”
He ignores me, just as he’s supposed to.
Julia calls, “Keep those hands joined when you spin, folks! And don’t worry if it looks clumsy. Elegance comes with practice.”
We dance in a circle, holding hands.One, two, three. One, two, three.
I go again, “You write uncommonly fast, Mr. Darcy!”
“You are mistaken,” he says. “I write rather slowly.”
Julia hollers, “Skater position! Aaand one, two, three, right hands together, left hands together, one, two, three, one, two, three…”
Her intervention pulls me out of the scene that Jonas and I are rehearsing. The unfortunate consequence is that I realize how enjoyable it is to dance with him. I revel in having his big, warm hands wrapped around mine. It’s a shameful, guilty sort of pleasure like watching a cheesy, stereotypical rom-com for the umpteenth time.
Jonas’s voice redirects my attention from his hands to his lips. “You were saying something.”
Was I? About what?
He prompts, “You were waxing lyrical about the speed of my writing.”
Oh, right. The scene!
I draw in a deep breath. “How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a year! Letters of business, too! How odious I should think them!”
“It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of yours.”
How boldly and easily you deride a woman, my lord!
How harshly you punish me for simply trying too hard and being gauche about it! It’s not like a Regency woman can ask the man she fancies if he’d like to grab dinner, is it? Did Caroline really deserve that quip? And that tone?
Even as I’m venting for Caroline, I’m aware that Darcy’s snide comment is a product of Jane Austen’s, and not Jonas’s, mind. But he barely needed to act to give me haughty sarcasm. All he needed to do was to let loose his true nature.
“Windmill position!” Julia calls. “Keep those hands entwined and spin!”
How do you spin while holding hands behind your backs?
We do our best.
The music stops a few minutes later and we disengage our hands. Jonas bows. I curtsy.
“Great job, everyone!” Julia says, beaming. “You’re a gifted bunch and quick studies. Tomorrow we’ll rinse and repeat, and I’ll teach you how to handle an amateur partner who bungles the steps.” She turns to Sandra. “They’ll be perfect by the opening night.”
As we give ourselves a round of applause, someone peeks into the hall through the open door and waves to Jonas. It’s a pretty, well-dressed young blonde. He rushes to her, and they retreat hastily.
