Authoress' Note: Uh-oh. Puberty here we come. Goodness me I love mood swings and angsty teenager-ish-ness. Bring it on! James has no idea what's in store for him. Neither does the Governor methinks. He's probably wishing his wife were alive so that she could deal with all of this. Please review when you're done reading!
Waltz Steps
"Elizabeth, you look positively stunning," Papa says adoringly, as I descend the stairs, "Your mother would be so proud of you."
I take the last step slowly and let out my breath in a rush, having held it the entire way down, and blush slightly at Father's comment. The full skirts and all of the new undergarments will take much getting used to, and I only hope that I will not trip or embarrass myself in some other way tonight.
I wobble on the higher heels and feel more like a goose waddling about than the swan that Charlotte told me to be. As we walk by the mirror in the entrance hall I can't help glancing at myself. The painted face of a 13-year-old girl stuck somewhere in that limbo between childhood and womanhood stares back with wide awestruck eyes.
This will be my first ball, and already butterflies are flying about in my stomach as my heart pounds in my throat. It's one thing to be the daughter of an aristocrat, but another thing entirely to be the Governor's daughter, especially in Jamaica. At least that's what Charlotte said. It did nothing to comfort me or ease my nerves.
Papa ushers me toward the double doors at the end of the corridor from which the sweet notes of music and shrill chatter intermix. The door opens swiftly, and with less pomp and ceremony than I had expected we step inside. Immediately, men surround Papa, and terrified, I try my best to stay by his side. We move about the room as Papa greets his guests, and over and over again I am introduced to foreign diplomats, parliamentarians, and aristocrats of every size, shape, and colour. Just when I begin to feel that I shall not be able to smile or curtsy once more someone taps me on the shoulder.
"James!"
The lieutenant smiles and brings a finger to his lips. "Ssh, I'm Lieutenant Norrington in public, remember?"
Red roses bloom across my face, and I bring a hand up to cover them. "Oh, yes. I'm sorry. It seems I forgot."
James smiles reassuringly and reaches for my hand. Pulling it away from my face, he squeezes it, and then lets it fall gently by my side. He has never touched me before in such a way, and I shiver involuntarily at the warmth of his hand against mine.
"You look lovely, tonight, Miss Swann," he says, and I look down at my gown then, feeling more like a child in his presence than ever. "Would you care to join me for a dance? They're playing a lively quadrille, and that's one of my favourites."
This change of events cheers me considerably. "Let me ask Papa first," I say.
"Yes, of course."
I wait for Papa to finish speaking with the group of men he is standing with, and then touch his arm with my hand to catch his attention. He looks around him for a moment, and then down, perhaps wondering who was so bold.
I smile up at him. "Papa, Lieutenant Norrington has asked me to dance. May I?"
He glances at the lieutenant who stands a few feet away from us looking at nothing in particular with his hands clasped behind his back. Father shrugs.
"I don't see why not, my dear. He is an honourable man and a worthy partner for your first dance."
I beam at him, and slip through the crowd, which has grown considerably, to James' side. He takes my hand again, a motion that I am not entirely used to, and leads me through another set of double doors to the room beyond. I had not thought it possible to crowd so many people into one place, yet here they are, mashed up against the wall and snaking in between each other across the dance floor. I tighten my grip on James' hand so that we will not be separated.
Perhaps he senses my anxiety for he moves closer to me and chooses a spot toward the outside of the designated dance floor. The quadrille is over, and the fiddler and the cellist in the corner of the room strike up another popular English country dance. The other couples prepare by placing hands in arms and upon waists, but James does not do this. Instead he offers just his hands for me to place mine into. When I give him a quizzical look with one eyebrow raised, a look that I have slowly been perfecting, he smiles at me congenially.
"You have much to learn in the ways of etiquette, Miss Swann," he says, though in a kind way, "It would be entirely inappropriate of me to hold you in such a way considering your age and social status. Perhaps you should spend less time out playing with William Turner and more time studying."
Though I know he is jesting, I frown at the mention of Will, and accidently tread on James' feet before righting myself again.
"I do wish Will were here though," I say unhappily. I had asked Papa why he could not be invited, and he skirted around the question like I had never seen him do before. James looks slightly uncomfortable after hearing my sentiment. He's still smiling, but it's the kind of pained and uncomfortable smile that puts a damper on any moment.
"I'm sure he's busy," James finally says, "Being a blacksmith's apprentice is rather hard work you know. He doesn't have time to come to silly balls like this."
My frown deepens. "And we have time to come to silly balls?" I let out angrily and let my hands drop from James'. Turning on my heel, I rush from the room. Running now, I push my way through the women and men dressed in all their finery, and I do not stop until I am out in the empty corridor, which has darkened considerably. Papa does not even notice my departure.
Leaning against the wall I take a shuddering breath. Across from me is the mirror I passed by earlier. I look at myself, disgusted by my behaviour and even more so with how I look. Ripping the earrings from my ears and the necklace from about my neck, I dash them aside. Pulling off my uncomfortable shoes, I run up the stairs with hot tears in my eyes, down the corridor and into my room. I shut the door behind me with a bang and fall onto my bed sobbing hard.
For the life of me I cannot understand how riches and finery make one person higher than another or more worthy. More than ever I am confused about the differences between Will and I and even more confused by the lieutenant's attitude. So upset am I that I do not even hear him call my name moments later.
