Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

“Do you enjoy dancing, Miss Delaney?” James asked. Jessamina wasn’t sure how to respond, because she had no experience with ballroom small talk. She decided it would be better to respond as noncommittally as possible.
“I have nothing against the tradition. It seems to me that dancing is an excellent way of expressing ones emotions, without any unnecessarily frills or adornments. Simply music and movement is enough to convey--”
“You’re avoiding the question, Miss Delaney,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t trying to trick you. You can answer me honestly.”
“Oh. Well, in that case... yes, I rather do enjoy it. But I rarely get the occasion. It’s not often I choose to attend one of these balls.”
“Yet you chose to attend mine? Why is that, Miss Delaney?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Well, I hope I’m one of them.”
“You are.” she lied.
“Then I’m a very lucky man indeed.”

But Jessamina realized that she wasn’t truly lying. In fact, she was almost rather starting to enjoy herself in his company. He had a way of making her feel at ease, which was very difficult to do considering how alert her senses were. It was strange how connected she felt to him considering how little she knew about him.

The orchestra started to play a waltz, and they began to dance easily around the room. It had been a long time since she had danced with anyone (at least since before her father died), and she was dreadfully nervous about making a fool out of herself. To combat her nerves, she affected an air of nonchalance.
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Jessamina is seven years old, and there is nothing she likes better than dancing with her father in the drawing room. After her mother has gone to bed and the house is quiet, Mr. Delaney will come home late from work, and knock quietly on his daughter’s door. And even though Jessamina has been closing her eyes like a good little girl in order to try and get some sleep, her eyes spring wide open the moment her father arrives. She springs out of bed (quietly though, so she doesn’t wake the nanny sleeping in the adjoining room) and tiptoes quietly to the door. She opens it softly and grins when she sees his responding smile and his finger to his lips. She nods vigorously (as if the fervor in which she shakes her head corresponds with how willing she is to keep quiet. He picks her up in his strong arms and carries her down the stairs.

He’s surprisingly light on his feet, considering how much bigger he is than tiny Jessamina who wakes the whole house on Christmas morning with her footsteps. He sits her down on the sofa and closes the double doors behind him, making a big show of looking out for intruders. Once he’s sure that they haven’t been followed by any spies (a game that Jessamina and her father love to play together), he gives her a wink and places a record on the gramophone he just purchased. The music crackles to life, and great luxurious waltz begins to pour out around her. Mr. Delaney makes a big show of pretending to be conductor, while Jessamina mimes playing an instrument (in this particular memory it is a violin, although she often pretends to be a loud cymbal player). Then, after running around the room in their silliness, the part of the evening Jessamina likes best arrives; the dance.

Mr. Delaney bows to Jessamina as he twirls a long imaginary mustache. Jessamina manages a deep lopsided curtsy, almost falling out of it due to her excitement. And then he picks her and twirls her around the room, humming the beats to himself carelessly.

Jessamina will remember this feeling as long as she lives. The feeling of flying in her father’s arms, colors and sounds swirling around her head in a dizzying blur. She feels his heart beating against her, and its exactly in time with the loud “pum pum!” of the drums. He smells like pipe smoke and a variety of medicinal herbs, all of which Jessamina could probably identify if she wasn’t enjoying herself that much. She closes her eyes and imagines that she is a princess at her wedding, and every eye is on her in her shimmering golden gown. Her prince charming (who, at this age, looks just like her father, except much younger) asks for her hand and they dance the night away. And every townsperson, every court member, every royal in the entire world is watching in awe of her dancing skills. They whirl and whirl around the room, faster and faster, until the floor falls aways and they are traveling through all the time and space. The stars are twinkling brightly around them, and shooting stars circle them as they fly higher and higher, reaching the moon this time. The man in the moon laughs heartily and starts to dance with them, only then the heavens begin to shake and the moon is saddened that he can’t join in on the fun. But Jessamina and her Prince are nice people, and so they dance around him, laughing merrily with their newfound friend. The moon starts to sink into the horizon, wishing them luck in case they don’t meet again, as Jessamina and her Prince slowly settle back on Earth.

The music stops. Mr. Delaney slips Jessamina over his shoulder and removes the record from the Gramophone. Jessamina would normally protest and ask or one more dance, but she is rather sleepy, and her father’s soft humming in her ear is enough to lull her to sleep. Instead she clings to him and nuzzles her face in his neck, taking in the scent of his cologne. He tiptoes up the stairs again, careful not to make any noise, and places Jessamina back in bed. He tucks her in neatly her covers, and hands Jessamina her favorite stuffed animal, a little cloth monkey from her father’s overseas travels. Her eyelids begin to get heavy, but she fights to keep them open as he wanders around the room preparing things. He closes the blinds so that she can get some more sleep the next day. He puts the rocking chair back in its original place (the nanny always moves it closer to the bed in order to see if Jessamina is really sleeping). He extinguishes the lantern placed on her bedside table. And then, when all is dark ad quiet, so quiet that you can hear the crickets chirping outside her window, he sits on the edge of her bed, and kisses her on the forehead.

“I love you, Jessamina.” he whispers to her.
“I love you, too, Papa.” she says sweetly back.
He smiles at his little girl.

“You know, one day, you’ll be able to really dance with me. Only a meter more and you’ll be able to touch the ground. You’re growing up so fast.”

Jessamina snuggles into her covers, blushing at his words. “I’m still your little girl, Papa.”

“Yes, you are. And I’m glad of it. But one day, you’ll get to go to all the parties your mother talks about. You’ll be able to say up late, and dance with young men from all across London. And you’ll have such a wonderful time. And, you’ll be a great dancer, just like your mother.” He kisses her on the forehead again “But promise me you won’t grow up too fast, alright?”

“I promise, Papa. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, my princess.” He holds her hand until she falls asleep, and then when her breathing is slow and heavy, he leaves as silently as he came, closing the door gently behind him.

She has vivid dreams. Always. She can never remember them in the morning, but when she sleeps she dreams in technicolor.

Sometimes she dreams of fairy kingdoms. She’s the queen of all of them, and she rules them with a fair and even hand. Her helper is a faun (who, not surprisingly, resembles her father) who can do magic, and heals all the sick woodland creatures in the kingdom. There are rivers and lakes that all the fairy children play in, and fields of green for them to frolic in. She sits on her throne, a giant rose petal, sipping honeysuckle from a golden goblet, and watches over her kingdom, thrilled at the fact that all of this world belongs to her. Even at such a young age, she is in charge of her own destiny.

Or she dreams about being a mermaid princess. She swims and swims fro hours, and when she is tired she sits on a rock on the shore, and talks to all the little children who are so surprised at her appearance. S\They admire her long flowing hair, and her golden fins swishing in the clear water below them. And when she finishes saying her goodbyes, she is off again, exploring the unknown beautiful depths of the ocean floor. She swims all the way to Australia and sees all the beautiful coral and dolphins around her. She makes friends with them, talking and dancing with them in the warm waters of the barrier reef. She is the bravest mermaid in all of the mermaid kingdom, as well as the wisest and the prettiest. She’s so incredibly brave that she’s not even afraid of the prisoners and convicts who live on Australia. She swims ashore and they are all so in awe of her that they don’t dare to step within a hundred meters of her. Instead, they just bow to her in admiration. They hand her pearls that they have collected themselves in anticipation of her visit. She is too polite to take all of them, but too polite to refuse them, so she leaves with enough pearls as it takes to make a crown of them and with a wave to her convict friends, she is off again, back into the deep blue ocean.

There is the rare occasion that she dreams she is an angel. She is friends with all the angles, although they all envy her for her beautiful singing voice. She plays a golden harp at night when she plays for all the sick children in the orphanages, and heals them with her music. She flies around the heavens, resting on clouds and dances in the sunbeams. Heaven is so beautiful that sometimes she cries out of joy, and when she does, all the other angels cry, and god cries, and the clouds cry, and her tears from the rain on earth. But mostly god tells her not to cry, so she doesn't. Instead she enjoys her time making friends with all of the good and kid-hearted people who she meets up there. The devil has tried to tempt her to join him in his paradise, saying that he wants her to be his queen, but she refuses, because she is the kindest, most godly creature in all of God's kingdom.

But mostly, her dreams aren’t about fairies or mermaids, or even angels. They usually aren’t about being a queen, or a princess, or any member of the royal family. She doesn’t dream about being a ballerina, or an opera singer, an explorer of exotic unknown lands. In her dreams, she isn’t even a sophisticated young woman yet, attending parties and balls.

In almost each and every one of her dreams, she is usually dancing with her father in the drawing room. In her dreams she is still seven years old, and felling as if she is flying because she is so far off the ground. In her dreams he only thing she needs is her father holding her and spinning her as fast as he can. That, to her, is the most perfect place in the world to be, there with her father, in her dreams.

Sadly, Jessamina hasn’t had those dreams since her father died.

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After a few minutes of dancing in silence (the custom at the time, for chatting while dancing was considered an incredibly rude habit), he cleared his throat, which brought Jessamina out of her thoughts and back into reality.

“Might I just say how absolutely lovely and breathtaking you are? Or would that be considered to forward of me?”
She was startled by his frankness. “A little too forward I would think, considering that we’ve only just met. However, I thank you for your kind words.”
“It is I who should be thanking you for allowing me to be so near to such great beauty. I should have been happy just to touch your hand when we were introduced, and now I’m waltzing with the most charming young lady in all of London.”
“Are you really?”
“Oh, yes. And the most intelligent and graceful, I might add.”
“And how, Mr. Blackhorne--”
“James. I insist. There’s is no need for formality between us.”
“James, how would you know how intelligent, or graceful, or well-spoken I am if we’ve only just met? I’m afraid your compliments, although incredibly flattering, are simply rehearsed platitudes. You can’t possibly know what kind of person I am.”
“Oh, but I do, Miss Delaney. And do you want to know how?”
“Do tell.”
“He leaned very close to her and whispered in her ear, “the way you dance.”

The way in which he said those words sent a shiver down her spine. “What do you mean.”
“I can discover anyone’s personality merely by watching the way they dance. You said yourself that dancing is the expression of one’s emotions, and I couldn’t agree more. See that man over there, with the red hair and thick, curly mustache?”
Jessamina surreptitiously glanced over at the man in question.
“Notice the way he is slowly muttering the counts to himself, over and over again. How calculated and precise his steps are. He’s completely ignoring his dance partner.”

He was right. The young lady looked incredibly bored and almost frustrated, while the man was so intent on getting the steps right that he was starting to break into a sweat.
“Without ever having met that man, I can tell you that he is probably an accountant, or financier of some sort. He spends all day focusing on mathematics and figures, and a single misstep could have his whole world come crumbling down. He probably doesn’t spend much time outside of his office, and when he does, he probably approaches his hobbies with the same fervent concentration as his work. I can also tell you that he is probably not very popular among the ladies.”

“Intriguing. Go on.”

“Alright. That old woman dancing.”
“Where?”
“Does it really matter?”

Jessamina laughed. He was right; the room was filled with old matrons in giant velvet gowns.

“Notice the way she holds herself; incredibly poised and elegant. Her facial expression is blank but serene; indicating the fact that that she’s had years are years of training. She was clearly a beauty in her youth, and the toast of society. But now, notice her arm. See how her wrist is bent, and her joints are swollen. She in a lot of pain, but she’s not showing it. She’s a stoic woman, and unwilling to submit to the fact that she is growing older. She will keep dancing and reliving her youth until she can’t possibly stand.”
“While I agree with you, you could tell all of that simply by looking at her physical appearance. Not her dancing style.”

“Fair enough. Here, you pick a subject this time.”
“What about... Alexis? What can you tell me about her?” she asked.

James laughed. “Excellent choice. Well, obviously by traditional standards, she’s considered a beauty. She’s incredibly well dressed, wearing a shade she knows will compliment her skin tone and fair hair. She’s keeping a smile perpetually plastered on her face.”
“You’re focusing too much on appearance again.”
“I’m getting there! Egads, you’re a persistent one.”
Jessamina blushed. “Sorry. Continue.”
“Notice how when she dances, her upper body is constantly moving in big, sweeping, grand motions. Her head turns from side to side as her body turns, allowing the ribbons in her hair to float in the air. By looking at her upper half, you would think that she is an excellent dancer, based on her confidence and style. Her parter, who looks incredibly nervous, would seem to be faltering because he is inept compared to her. Now, her skirt is incredibly large, but try, if you can, to notice her feet.”
Jessamina squinted and tried to see them. She gasped. “Why, she’s not waltzing at all!”
“That’s right! She’s simply moving her feet in any way she chooses. She’s so convinced that people will be distracted by her upper half, or outer appearance, that she doesn’t have to worry about actually putting any work into learning the steps. Unfortunately, this works on about ninety-nine percent of the men and women in this hall. You and I, however, know that she is nothing but a fraud. And that poor man dancing with her is probably an excellent dancer, but had no idea what he got himself into.”

“Well done, James. I’m impressed.”
“And then there’s you. You think you’re not a very good dancer, which I could tell because of the way you skirted around my question earlier. But here I am, dancing with you, and you completely surprised me. You’re incredibly light on your feet, which means that this is second nature to you. Your posture and hand positioning is poised and not stiff, which means that you’re incredibly graceful even when you’re not dancing. And the fact that you’re able to do all of this while still holding an incredibly articulate conversation shows your intelligence. You maintain a perfect balance between self-control and pleasure in your dancing. You are, in other words, the most perfect dance partner I’ve ever had.”

Jessamina could feel a blush creeping up the back of her neck. “That’s very kind of you, James. But tell me this: what does your dancing reveal about yourself?”

He winked at her and flashed her another one of his heart-stopping smiles. “That I enjoy myself a little too much.” And with that, he started to whirl her faster around the room. She laughed breathlessly as the final notes of the music played out, and they were brought back to the harsh reality of their surroundings. She began to break apart from him, but something about the way he’s holding her causes her to look up at him again.

“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, Miss Delaney,” he whispers to her. “They are, much like you, truly spectacular and unique.”

There is a moment where Jessamina is not sure whether he is going to kiss her. He is perilously close to her now, and despite the fact that there are hundreds of other guests in the room, she feels as if they are completely alone in this moment. Before things go any further, she breaks the spell by saying, “Please. Call me Jessamina.”

He smiles at her, and finally releases his hold on her, which makes Jessamina feel strangely cold and empty inside.

“Well, Jessamina,” he said. “I hope you will be resting your feet tonight, because I plan on dancing with you a few more times before the night is through.” With that, he gives a low bow, and disappears into the mass of London socialites.

Jessamina stands there for a moment, completely floored by what just happened. For she realized, that in that moment when she thought james would kiss her... she actually wanted him to.

And that’s a feeling that scares Jessamina more than anything else.