Read Online A Private Performance by Helen Halstead - Free Book Online Page B

nothing of this. She was caught up by the music, her delight in the dance, and by the entertainment of analysing a new and beguiling acquaintance.
    At five and twenty, Mr. Whittaker was a man of virtue. The virtues he possessed consisted of blond good looks and a pleasing financial competency. He provided Elizabeth with some interesting, if not altogether credible, information about their fellow dancers.
    At one stage in the dance, a young lady floated past, the epitome of fashionable lethargy. Elizabeth thought she caught the glimmer ofa smile flashed to Mr. Whittaker, but it vanished, like a ripple on a still pond, leaving her lovely face as impassive as before.
    â€œWho on earth was that?” asked Whittaker. “Most people wake up in the morning. She merely opens her eyes.”
    Elizabeth laughed, irresistibly drawn in by his venom, and said:
    â€œThere is a line with the fineness of a razor’s edge between the states of elegance and unconsciousness. I have not yet dared to tread it.”
    She felt his laughing gaze stroke her face. “No,” he said. “I believe that is one fine line you never tread.”
    At the end of the dance, he said: “May I have the honour of introducing my sister to you?”
    He led her to the very same young lady whom he had affected not to know. Elizabeth gave him an accusatory look, in the face of which he smiled the smile of an innocent. Looking at them standing together, Elizabeth wondered that she had not spotted their relationship. They were both tall, with the same fair complexions and Grecian features. Even in their grey eyes, she detected a similarity of expression.
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    The evening was crowded with incident. Elizabeth despaired of remembering all the people she met. She danced every dance, and spent little time with her husband apart from a few minutes between dances, when he could find her. As she danced, Elizabeth caught glimpses of Darcy walking about, engaged in conversation, then standing alone. Finally he exerted himself to dance. This was just the behaviour she had found so supercilious in the early days of their acquaintance, and she smiled.
    How easy she found it! Every person introduced to her seemed to have another friend longing for her acquaintance. Yet her Aunt Gardiner had warned her not to take it to heart if she found herself snubbed somewhat, at first, by the London Ton.
    Lord Reerdon escorted her in to supper, having been her partner for that dance. They sat at the bottom of the second table, Darcy almost opposite her. Fortunately, the aromas of pheasant andpartridge soon competed with the odour of Lord Reerdon’s perspiration and Elizabeth found herself to be hungry.
    As supper ended, the Twelfth Night entertainments began. To the sound of flute and drum the ‘attendants’ of the court ran in and assembled on the platform at the end of the room. The ‘Twelfth Cake’ was carried in. The sides of this massive concoction were sculptured like desert dunes, and on the top rode a miniature procession of figures representing the three Magi and their camels. A drumming brought silence and a boy unrolled a scroll and read aloud:
    â€œNow the revelry comes.
    For in this cake of plums
    Is the coin for the King.
    For his Queen the ring.
    They’ll reign over us here,
    Both commoner and peer.”
    The cake was carried around in procession, before returning to the dais to be cut.
    â€œHave you ever been King?” Elizabeth asked Darcy.
    â€œFortunately not. Rumour has it that aspiring kings bribe Lord Misrule for a chance at the coin.”
    â€œWho plays his part?”
    â€œExcept for the King and Queen, they are all actors.”
    The herald went on:
    â€œSo that justice may be,
    Let Lord Misrule oversee!”
    Through the door by the dais, leapt Lord Misrule. From his noisy welcome, it was clear that not much was expected in the way of justice. A team of footmen served cake first to the ladies, then