Page 81 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant⁠—”

“Prepare to be delighted, Mrs. Hackberry.” He winked and left her clutching her hands at her waist.

Kiya sidled up to her. “Come sit.”

Evangeline allowed Kiya to guide her closer to the fire while her gaze stayed on Jonathan. He removed his shoes and strapped a wide string of tiny bells around his ankle, then gathered three of his drums.

Menar brought a three-legged wooden stool to the clearing in front of the fire. When Jonathan sat, he placed the largest frame drum between his calves so the smooth hide faced his audience. The mid-sized one was propped on his lap, the smallest abandoned for now.

He started slow with the mid-sized drum. His top hand lightly thumped the frame while the thumb of his lower hand struck the drumhead.

She held her breath, not daring to look around the crowd for fear someone would call them out for being frauds.

Then he dragged his finger down the drum, and she felt the low roar in her stomach. He struck it several times—fingers spread, fingers together. The rhythm built and so did the pounding of her heart. He hit the drum held up by his legs. The sound was deeper, more ominous. When he swept his knuckles over the drum, it hissed.

The energy of the crowd passed through her. They were all leaning forward, eager for what came next.

Jonathan kept the tempo, but each strike created a different sound. He repeated the sequence over and over. It was mesmerizing in its unique yet predictable sound. An older man stepped into the firelight, raising his voice in song. Slow, resonant. The minor key caused her to choke up.

She couldn’t understand the lyrics, but he was telling a story with his song. She glanced at the faces around her. Tears glistened in some eyes while others nodded slowly. When the last notes were sung and faded in the air, he grinned at Jonathan and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Happy now,” Menar called.

Jonathan launched into a rapid beat, tapping his foot and jingling the bells. Sometimes the rhythm sounded chaotic yet in sync. He tapped the drum from top to bottom, moving his fingers down the center to create different tones. Two men came to sit near him cross-legged on the dirt. One had two tiny drums that were connected, and the other cradled a goblet-shaped drum on his lap.

Jonathan set the larger drums aside and snatched up the smallest one. While they played, he danced. Leg kicked back, twirl, drum smacked overhead. He spun on his knees, coming closer to her. She laughed from sheer surprise. He grinned and jumped to his feet, hitting the drum overhead again. When he performed a series of jump spins and kicks, the crowd cheered.

At the end, Nekara stood, clapping. “Well done, drummer. Very well done.”

He bowed low, then walked toward Evangeline at the edge of the circle. Kiya complimented him on his performance as more musicians joined the drummers.

Three men and five women entered the circle with bamboo sticks and began to dance. The women shimmied their hips before matching the men’s movements. Hop, hop, hop. On one foot, the group turned in a circle with their canes raised overhead, then swung downward before gently tapping one end to the ground.

Soon, more people were dancing, laughing and jovial. Jonathan gestured to the group.

“Should we join them?”

Kiya nudged her. “Yes, dance with us.”

“Heavens, no! It would take all night to teach me.”

“Then let’s do a dance you know,” Jonathan said. “The Scottish reel?”

She chuckled. “I didn’t bring my dance card, but I believe I’m available.”

“Might I be so bold as to claim all of your dances this evening?”

“My, you are bold, sir. But I think a celebration is in order, don’t you?”

Perhaps because they had proven themselves, Kiya and Menar gave them space while they danced. The Semkari seemed amused by the Scottish reel, and some of the younger girls came to imitate them. Evangeline slowed down at times to demonstrate, and they picked up the dance quickly.

Thirty

After the dancing, a sinewy young man shooed everyone from the area. Kiya touched Evangeline’s shoulder and pointed to the sidelines where the crowd was beginning to sit on the ground. She and Jonathan walked toward everyone with his arm around her waist.

“What do you think is happening?” she asked him.

“Perhaps another performance.”