eyes searched for him, but in vain. He seemed to have disappeared. She waited for him to come back, but he did not, and the dance fell flat for her after that. As the evening progressed, Audra found it impossible to tear her eyes away from the door for very long, and she silently prayed that he would return. There was something about him that intrigued her.
Although she was asked to dance several times, and accepted these invitations, for most of the evening Audra sat it out on the long bench with the other wallflowers. She was quite content to be an observer, watching the dancers, in particular Gwen, who twirled around the floor with various young bucks from the neighbourhood, –obviously enjoying herself immensely. But Audra thought that none of Gwen’s partners looked half as handsome or as fascinating as the dark young man who had so engaged her interest earlier.
Audra had almost given up hope that he would make an appearance again when he came barrelling through the door, looking slightly flushed and out of breath, and stood at the far side of the hall, glancing about. At the exact moment that the band leader announced the last waltz he spotted her. His eyes lit up, and he walked directly across the floor to her and, with a faint smile, he asked her if she would care to dance.
Gripped by a sudden internal shaking, unable to speak, Audra nodded and rose.
He was taller than she had realized, at least five feet nine, perhaps six feet, with long legs; lean and slenderly built though he was, he had broad shoulders. There was an easy, natural way about him that communicated itself to her instantly, and he moved with great confidence and panache. He led her on to the floor, took her in his arms masterfully, and swept her away as the band struck up ‘The Blue Danube’.
During the course of the dance he made several casual remarks, but Audra, tongue-tied, remained mute, knowing she was unable to respond coherently. He said, at one moment, ‘What’s up then, cat got your tongue?’
She managed to whisper, ‘No.’
Glancing down at her with curiosity, he frowned, but he did not bother to say anything further, appeared to be lost in his thoughts, or concentrating on the dance.
When the music stopped he thanked her politely, escorted her back to the bench, inclined his head, strolled off.
Her eyes followed him all the way to the front door. And as he walked out into the dark winter night she wondered who he was and if she would ever see him again. She desperately hoped she would.
Later when she and Gwen were hurrying up Town Street, making their way back to Calpher House, Gwen suddenly blurted out: ‘Well, I must say, for someone who protests they’re not interested in men, you were certainly mesmerized by that chap you had the last dance with. But I can tell you this, Audra, he’s bad news. Oh yes, definitely, lovey.’
Audra, startled, asked, ‘How can you say he’s bad news? You don’t even know him.’
Gwen took hold of Audra’s arm in her usual possessive way, slipped her own through it. She said, ‘I can tell just by looking at him that he’s a real devil. I’m always suspicious of the pretty ones. Very wary. They generally end up breaking some poor woman’s heart, lovey, maybe even two or three hearts, for that matter. You’d be much better off with somebody like our Charlie. And you know how he feels about you, lovey. He hasn’t changed.’
Audra said nothing. Gwen’s remarks about the young man irritated and annoyed her. She considered them to be unwarranted and just a shade preposterous under the circumstances. Presumptuous, in fact, and for the first time in their friendship she was put out with Gwen. The next morning, still rankling somewhat, Audra scrupulously avoided referring to the evening before, and she and Gwen did not discuss the young man again.
But Audra could not help thinking about him.
In the days which immediately followed the encounter, she kept recalling certain things about that night and about him…the way he had looked down at her, narrowly, speculatively, through the greenest eyes she had ever seen…the turbulent emotions he had aroused in her, feelings she had not believed really existed except in the novels on Mrs Bell’s shelves…his ineffable grace as he had moved them around the dance floor…the true classical beauty of his face, so unusual in a man.
Now, nearly two months afterwards, Audra was still asking herself why she never ran across him in Upper Armley. Ever since the dance she had expected to do so, and she looked for him when she went out and about with the child who was in her charge. She was convinced the young man came from these parts for she could recognize the local accent when she heard it.
As Audra focused her thoughts on him, an echo of his voice reverberated clearly in her head, and an image of his face leapt before her eyes. And despite the warmth of the quilt, she shivered unexpectedly and goose flesh speckled her skin. She wrapped her arms around her body, hugging herself. She pictured his face close to hers on the pillow, tried to imagine what it would be like to be kissed by him, touched by him, held by him. Since their brief encounter, the mysterious dark young man had haunted her, intruded on her thoughts at the oddest times.
Presently Audra opened her eyes and endeavoured to quench the unfamiliar longings stirring within her. Until she had met him, danced with him, Audra had never known sexual desire, and of late some of the strange, new feelings she was experiencing confused and frightened her, yet excited her at the same time. She pressed her face into the pillow, wanting to block out the memory of him, and discovered, as she had so often in the past few weeks, that she was unable to expunge the image of his face, his unbelievable eyes. She knew she wanted him.
Turning onto her back, she lay very still, staring up at the ceiling, her eyes wide, unblinking, and she wondered what she would do if she did not run into him again. Dismay gripped her, then instantly dissipated. Audra believed that they would meet and that they would come to know each other well. Very well indeed. She felt this in her bones.
A sudden clattering in the corridor outside her bedroom pierced the early morning silence. Audra started in surprise, then cocked her head, listened. She heard a stifled exclamation, then low unintelligible mutterings, followed by the sound of feet clomping into the adjoining day nursery.
Audra knew that it was Cora going about her morning chores. She suspected that the housemaid had dropped the coal scuttle, which was not an unusual occurrence by any means. Cora, who was perpetually cheerful, had turned out to be a friendly soul, but she was also the clumsiest person Audra had ever met. A day did not go by without a breakage of one kind or another, and the culprit, sadly, was always poor Cora.
There was a loud knock on the door and Cora’s scrubbed and shining face appeared around it. ‘Mornin’, Miss Audra.’
‘Good morning, Cora,’ Audra said, pushing herself up on one elbow, smiling in the half light.
‘Is it all right if I comes in then, Miss Audra? Ter make t’fire for yer?’
‘Yes, of course, Cora.’
Cora’s plump little body, encased in her pink-striped morning uniform, rotated across the room like a fastspinning top. She dumped the coal scuttle and the ashpan down on the hearth unceremoniously, then spun over to the huge window. Pulling back the curtains with a great flourish, flooding the room with brilliant sunshine, she exclaimed, ‘It’s ever so cold out this mornin’, Miss. Arctic weather, so Fipps says. Aye, he says it’s cold enough ter freeze t’balls off a brass monkey, that he does.’
‘Really, Cora!’
‘That’s what he said ter me, Miss.’
‘But
