And he was gone.
Jane smiled at his back. She liked a man in tails. Something bumped her elbow.
“Excuse me . . . Oh, it is you, Jane, dear,” said Aunt Saffronia. She’d been watching Mr. Nobley as well, and her expression was still misty with contemplation. “Where has your partner gone?”
“He is fetching me a drink,” said Jane. “I’ve never seen him so attentive. Or so . . . I don’t know, relaxed.”
“Nor I, not in the four years I have known him. He is acting like a proper gentleman in love, is he not? I might almost say that he looks happy.” Aunt Saffronia was thoughtful, and while she stared, she idly bit her fingernail right through her glove.
“Is he in love?” asked Jane. She was feeling bold in her bridal-white gown.
“Hm, a question only hearts can answer.” Aunt Saffronia looked fully at Jane now and smiled approvingly. “Well, don’t you look like spun sugar! And no wonder.”
Aunt Saffronia leaned in to touch cheeks and kiss, and Jane caught a trace of cigarette smoke. Could the dear lady be the unseen smoker? What a lot of secrets in this place, thought Jane. She’d never before considered that Austen didn’t write just romances and comedies but mysteries as well.
Mr. Nobley walked briskly to her side, offering a cup from the punch bowl, asking her if she required anything else while she drank.
“Is it too hot in here for you? I will have them open the doors to the veranda. Or I could fetch you a fan.”
“No, I’m fine, sir.”
He was impatient for a servant to come take her empty cup and glared at anyone who interrupted their path back to the dance floor.
“You’re not enjoying the ball?” she asked.
“I assure you, I am taking an inordinate amount of pleasure from this ball, but none of it has to do with any of these bumblers.”
“I think you just complimented me,” said Jane. “You should take better care next time.”
“You think I compliment by accident?” The music had started, the couples had begun a promenade, but Mr. Nobley paused to hold Jane’s arm and whisper, “Jane Erstwhile, if I never had to speak with another human being but you, I would die a happy man. I would that these people, the music, the food and foolishness all disappeared and left us alone. I would never tire of looking at you or listening to you.” He took a breath. “There. That compliment was on purpose. I swear I will never idly compliment you again.”
Jane’s mouth was dry. All she could think to say was, “But . . . but surely you wouldn’t banishallthe food.”
He considered, then nodded once. “Right. We’ll keep the food. We’ll have a picnic.”
And he spun her into the middle of the dance. While the music played, his attention remained entirely on her, leading her through the motions, watching her with admiration.
“So, Mr. Nobley, would you consider this a good dance?” Jane asked with a sly smile, referencing their first conversation.
“Yes,” he said. “At last, yes.”
He had once said that a good dance required both partners to be equals in rank, grace, and aptitude. Miss Erstwhile certainly wasn’t Mr. Nobley’s equal, and yet he danced with her as though she were royalty, with no apparent recall that she was the lone rider of the Precedence Caboose. His other requirement had been a natural fondness for each other, and that she could readily recognize, especially in herself. She had never before felt so keenly that Mr. Nobley and Miss Erstwhile were a couple, and the idea of that felt so good and true and perfect, her heart tried to expand to take it in. Bound by a corset, her chest heaved with the effort.
But I’m not really Miss Erstwhile, thought Jane.
Her heart failed to expand enough, and her throat tightened. She needed to get away, she was dizzy, she was hot, his eyes were arresting, he was too much to take in. His expression was so open and pure and everything she wanted, and she couldn’t have him.
What am I supposed to do, Aunt Carolyn? she asked the carved cupids on the ceiling. Everything’s headed for Worse Than Before. How do I get out of this alive?
She spun and saw Martin, and kept her eyes on him as though he were the lone landmark in a complicated maze. Mr. Nobley noticed her attention skidding. His eyes were dark when he saw Martin. His smile turned down, his look became more intense.
As soon as the second number ended, Jane curtsied, thanked her partner, and began to depart. She felt more confused and caught up than ever, and yearned for a clearing breath of cold November air.
“A moment, Miss Erstwhile,” Mr. Nobley said. “I have already taken your hand for the last half hour, but now I would beg your ear. Might we . . .”
“Mr. Nobley!” A middle-aged woman with curls shaking around her face flurried his way. Had Mr. Nobley been making visits to other estates while he was supposed to be hunting? Or was this a repeat client who might’ve known the man from a past cast? “I’m so happy to find you! I insist on dancing the next dance.”
“Just now is not . . .”
