A Matter Of Delicacy

The Quadrille

     'Miss Wentworth, meet Mr Willoughby. Willoughby, this is my new lady in waiting, Miss Katherine Wentworth.'
     'Miss Wentworth,' the man bent neatly at the waist in an elegant bow and took my hand from where it lay limp against my thigh. Kissing it gently he looked at me with smiling eyes. 'It's a pleasure.'
     I blinked, completely taken aback. He was certainly not one of the ugly old men I had been expecting. Mr Willoughby was all angles, with a strong jaw, sharp collar points, and faint smile lines around his eyes and mouth. He looked like one of the Roman statues lining the wall, with his curled dark hair and strong nose. There was a sharpness to every bit of him, from his face to his neat waistcoat to the long fingers gently holding mine. But his dark blue eyes had a kindness and wit to them, twinkling with each smile and laughing even when his face didn't quite follow. My years' experience in reading faces and their intentions told me this was a man who enjoyed life at its fullest, and whatever it brought with it. Now he was appraising me, his eyebrow slightly raised and a half smile on his face.
     'I've told him all about you.' The Princess clasped her hands together.
     Rallying myself, I deployed the usual tactics of introduction that I had seen and copied so many times when I was in the courts on my missions. Curtsying, I bowed my head and smiled warmly. 'I hope I don't disappoint.'
     'Oh trust me, there can be no danger of that, Miss Wentworth.' He gave me a slow and easy smile and held out an arm for me, 'If you are not already engaged, may I have this next dance?'
Mr Willoughby guided me gently through the crowd of people towards the large square in the floor where twenty or so couples were entering the final stages of the dance, his hand resting on mine for guidance. The gentle pressure made my hand tingle and suddenly I was slightly breathless. Pull yourself together Kate, he's only a man and you've dealt with men before. We stopped and waited for the other quests to finish, giving me an excellent opportunity to find out more about my companion. 'So, Mr Willoughby, you are not a member of the Princess's court, that I know for certain. May I ask how you got an invitation?'
     'I didn't. I stole these clothes from a friend and climbed in through the window.' He stared out over the dance floor, only looking at me after a moments silence. I raised an eyebrow and he laughed, a deep warm chuckle. 'Apologies.'
     'You may have to work harder on me Sir, I am not so easily fooled.'
     'Pity; I don't have any jokes left.' He smiled again and I found myself smiling back. 'No, I am not a member of our illustrious Princess's court, though judging by these parties I see I am missing out. I am with the Prince's court, and come here occasionally to see what's going on. I suppose you could say I'm a spy.' He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, a lopsided grin on his face. 'And you Miss Wentworth? I have not seen you at one of these balls before.'
     'No, I have only recently joined the court.' The music came to a sweeping finish and the couples bowed to each other, clapping politely. The men held their arms out for their partners, guiding them towards the buffet table. New sets of couples started making their way to the floor, and Mr Willoughby guided me into the middle. Momentarily I panicked. What if the music began and I had no idea which dance it was? I had learnt all the popular ones, but this was hardly a common occasion. What if the Princess had ordered some complex and outlandish dance that I was unfamiliar with? Looking around, I tried to spot a name on one of the musician's sheet music, but all the pages were bound in leather books. The couples on either side of me were deep in conversation so I couldn't ask any of them, and Sarah had been left talking to the Princess on the other side of the room.
     'It's a quadrille.' Mr Willoughby smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
     I grinned bashfully, my cheeks flaring, 'thank you.'
     He smiled at me as the music began, raising his eyebrows and nodding when we had to start. I only got a moment with him, taking his hand and both of us danced around each other before we had to break away and weave in between the other three couples in our circle. There was one married woman with her husband, an old man with bright red cheeks and heavy eyelids; a young woman, barely sixteen with a bored-looking officer and an older woman bathed in jewels with a sagging throat and thin hair who danced with one of the lords I had seen Sarah's husband with. It was a motley crew for sure. Nevertheless, I weaved, smiling politely at all of them and trying to peek over their heads to make sure the Princess was still alright and hadn't been murdered in my absence. I was so distracted trying to see her I only noticed that I had reached Mr Willoughby again when the tight grip of the old man was replaced by a gentle, steady touch, almost invisible, that make me look back.
     'Looking for someone?' he asked, stepping around me elegantly and easing me into the line.
     'No.' I glanced up at him and saw another raised eyebrow and half smile. 'Yes. I don't want to leave the Princess on her own for too long.'
     'I can assure you she is perfectly safe, and content as well. I can see her being pandered to by one of the dukes. While your concern does you credit, Miss Wentworth there is no need for it. Now, Her Royal Highness said you were from Germany?'
     'Munich.' I blurted out the first German city I could think of, silently cursing the Princess for not going into more detail about my supposed life and tragic story of my dead German parents. Thankfully the parallel lines of people split, taking me away from Mr Willoughby and giving me time to think. I suppose I could say I had been at finishing school if he asked about my accent, though really no proper gentleman should ask such personal questions to a woman he had only just met.
     We came back together again and parted on the other side, only together long enough for him to say 'I've never been, how is it?'
     How was it? I had never been myself and I couldn't remember Father ever saying anything about it. But he had been to Berlin and told me of his travels there so I could improvise. We came back together and finally stood still. Mr Willoughby bent his head and gave me an inquiring look, made more vivid by his strong nose and sharp cheekbones.
     'Lovely.' I said, smiling gently to try and convince him. It felt almost cruel, lying to this man who had been nothing but kind and honest so far. 'It's very clean and there are concerts every night and beautiful parks everywhere and the smell of wonderful food on every street.'
     'Not like London at all then?' He grinned again, his teeth straight and shining in the candlelight. It made his eyes squint at the corners. I laughed and we danced up the line and split again, curling around the outside and meeting at the bottom of the line. 'Coming here must have been a shock for you, I hope you're not too homesick.'
     'Not at all,' again I lied and tried not to think of the idyllic garden in Somerset with the rose bush and Father's wicker chair tucked under the apple tree. 'The Princess has been very kind to me.'
     'Yes I'm sure.' Again, we had to stop as the two lines split and joined, split and joined. Finally, we circled back into our original positions and started the whole set again, facing a different direction. The Quadrille had never been my favourite dance, it was too simple to be interesting and lasted up to half an hour depending on the music. But it did give me a chance to better know my partner. Mr Willoughby continued to shock and surprise me, asking after the journey here and how the Princess was treating me, and what my life had been like in Germany. Many of the answers I gave were lies but I reeled them out as easily as a haberdasher measures out ribbon, embellishing where he found something funny and concealing what should not be spoken about. Full ranges of emotion played on his face, each clear and bright as day. Shock and sympathy at the death of my 'parents' and at the horrors of my journey here, amusement at the first meeting of the Princess, again falsified to exclude my audition as her bodyguard. In that half an hour I spoke more in one go than I had in weeks and by the end felt clean and refreshed.
But, throughout the rest of the dance, I also noticed his strange mixture of involved and distant behaviour. While he was perfectly polite and gracious, entertaining even, when we came together, when we parted, he scanned the crown behind me, desperately looking for someone with a faint frown. Whoever he was looking for must have been very important to him and for some reason this bothered me, hovering at the edge of my mind and irritating my thoughts, like a midge that just wouldn't go away. Oh stop it Kate, I told myself sharply as we repeated the dance. He's only just met you so of course there will be others. You have no reason to be bothered by the idea that there might be someone he wants to talk to. It could be a sister! Or another family member, it might not even be a woman! Who was I competing against? Why was I even competing at all?
     The music finally came to a gentle stop and there was a ripple of polite applause from the watchers. Mr Willoughby bowed along with the other gentlemen and all the ladies, me included, curtsied. Taking the offered arm, I walked with him back to the Princess and her posse, talking all the way with him about some of my patron's quirks. When we got back he gently let my arm go and again my rebellious stomach sank. I tried to cover my disappointment by engaging Sarah in conversation, taking her hand and squeezing it. She squeezed back and gave me a light, excited look. I would have dragged her over to the alcove to tell her everything but her bullish husband tapped her on the shoulder and took her to dance, completely ignoring her faintly repulsed expression.

     The Princess sang Mr Willoughby's praises all the way home in the carriage, telling me all about his background (boring to say the least), his family (father and brother alive but dead mother and no other siblings), his hobbies (dancing, reading, painting and sport). I would be lying if I said I didn't lap it all up, asking for more when little detail was given. Sarah of course saw right through me, taking my hand and chuckling now and again when I asked an improper question.
     When we got back to Montagu House some of the ladies left at home came out, helping us in and taking the discarded gloves and shawl that the Princess let drop behind her. I was exhausted and immensely relieved when the Princess, still talking despite leaning against a pillar for support, patted my hand and sent me to bed. Back in my own little room I eased out of the tight corset and dress, hanging it up on the wardrobe for washing and return to the Countess of Exeter, and slipped in between the sheets, pulling the blanket up close around my chin. Music and dance steps and laughter ran through my head, dipping and weaving between each other like the steps of a Quadrille. I couldn't help but smiling to myself, feeling like a society belle out for the first time and fantasising about the dances and parties and clothes and men. It was thoroughly stupid, and I hated myself for it. But, deep down, I was wondering when my new dresses would arrive and when the next ball would be. And I was also wondering if the lovely Mr Willoughby would be there.
     Oh if Father could see me now.
     But my reverie was broken harshly when there came, from the next room and as loud as a stampede, a scream.