The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet, Katherine Cowley [books successful people read .TXT] 📗

of opportunity to speak to Mr. Tagore,” said Lady Trafford. “But first, you must dance.”

“I am not much of a dancer.”

“But then this is the perfect opportunity, right before supper, when you will be able to rest your feet. The musicians are providing wonderful accompaniment and—”

“I really had not planned to dance tonight.”

“I insist,” said Lady Trafford firmly. “There are too many women without partners for you to not dance at least one dance. I know for a fact that my dear friend Miss Bennet, who has been my esteemed guest over the past months, had very much hoped to dance tonight.”

Lady Trafford gave her a determined look, so Mary said, “I would be most obliged.”

Colonel Radcliffe seemed to steel himself, and then he bowed to Mary. “Miss Bennet, would you do me the honor of the next dance?”

“Of course.”

“If I may excuse myself, I need to speak to someone, but I will return in a few minutes to escort you to the floor.”

Once he had left, Lady Trafford turned to Mary with a knowing smile. “I hope you enjoy your dance and know that I appreciate your efforts.” And then she turned to Mr. Tagore. “There are several officers in the militia I should introduce you to.”

“Of course,” said Mr. Tagore. “It was a pleasure speaking with you, Miss Bennet.”

Mary watched the last few minutes of the dance, the musicians took a short break, and then partners for the next dance gathered on the floor, including Withrow, with an older woman whom Mary did not recognize. Mary stood in her spot at the edge of the ballroom, determined not to move. She would not let Colonel Radcliffe out of the dance by making herself difficult to find, as Lydia and Kitty did on occasion when they found their partners undesirable.

The dance began, but still Colonel Radcliffe did not seek her out.

Mary rarely danced at balls, but she had attended plenty, and it was always uncomfortable for a young lady to join the dance floor late, and quite rude on the part of the gentleman.

She turned the mourning ring on her finger. It was her first ball since her father died. He did not always attend balls with the rest of the family, but when he did, he was a source of stability for the whole family, keeping everyone—including herself—within the lines of propriety and respectability. It was an important role, and she missed him for it. She wished that Jane had not ended mourning so early. Mary would rather wear her emotions for her father publicly, so all could see, than keep them hidden inside herself. She had grown more accustomed, now, to the fact of his death, but it was there, ever present, just beneath the surface.

She tried to push her sorrow aside; a ball was not a time to mourn. She would do that later in her own room. For now, she should focus on the task set by Lady Trafford. Of course, in order to succeed she needed the colonel to return.

Mr. Bennet would recommend patience, but she found herself lacking any patience for her partner. She would feel very foolish indeed if the one dance partner who asked for her hand withdrew his offer without even speaking to her first.

Mary counted the couples dancing, and then she began counting the flickering candles in the chandeliers above her.

Colonel Radcliffe approached. He did not look nearly as apologetic as he should.

“My greatest apologies, Miss Bennet. I lost track of the time. Perhaps we could save the dance for—”

“No,” said Mary. “We should join the dance now.” She had learned from Lady Trafford that sometimes it was necessary to insist upon one’s own desires.

“Very well,” said Colonel Radcliffe.

He took her gloved hand in his own and led her to the bottom of the floor. After a moment they were able to join.

It was a fast dance with complicated footwork, that even her sisters would find challenging. Soon Mary was out of breath, but she had a task, and she would not be deterred.

“Do you plan to stay”—she executed a short series of complicated footwork—“in the area for very long?”

Colonel Radcliffe smiled agreeably. He did not seem to find the dance complex and was not breathing heavily. “I like change, meeting new people and doing new things. But I do hope to stay here for the foreseeable future.”

And now she needed to say something agreeable in reply, as Jane would. “It is a pleasure to have you in the area.”

“How long do you intend to stay at Castle Durrington?”

“I am not certain,” said Mary.

“Do they treat you well?” said the colonel, and there was something in his tone that gave her pause.

“Yes, very well,” said Mary. “It is just that my family has been missing me, especially my mother.”

In truth, no one had said anything in their letters about missing her in the slightest, but often such sentiments were difficult to express on paper.

She tried to turn the conversation back to him, to find something about the boat that might be of interest to Lady Trafford.

“Do you run an estate? Or are you involved in business or industry?”

“Nothing I do would be of any interest to you, Miss Bennet.”

“I often found my father’s work interesting.”

“That was probably due to familial connection, then.”

The next part of the dance was difficult to talk through, which was just as well, for Mary suspected that were she to talk, she might verbalize her frustration with Colonel Radcliffe.

She could feel her face redden as they took their turn dancing near the fire. Lady Trafford watched her from the edge of the room, and Mary wondered if she knew how miserably Mary was failing her task.

As she raised her leg for a dance step she tripped and almost fell, but she caught herself and continued. She thought she heard laughter from the side of the room, but she did not turn her head to see who it was. Colonel Radcliffe was looking at one of