Expectations: The Transformation of Miss Anne de Bourgh (Pride and Prejudice Continued), Volume 1 Page 24

Chapter Nineteen

  The day of the masquerade saw cool rain, but the weather cleared before sunset and the promise of a bright evening greeted the group as they rode down the hill to the festivities.

  As a result of her missing the final fitting with the dressmaker, Anne’s costume was a touch too big. She found herself forever tugging on the shoulders. The mask ill fit as well, but at least she could see out through it. Harriet’s old style gentleman’s clothes in light blue satin fit her perfectly. Dr. Minton’s fine suit and simple mask suited his professional dignity. Mrs. Jenkinson may not have been able to convey her primavera concept to the dressmaker, and the resulting costume resembled a dress caught on a hedge with snagged branches in random locations. But the widow seemed pleased, so Anne offered a vague compliment and commented on how happy she looked.

  Anne’s thoughts spun too quickly for her to concentrate long on her companions during the carriage ride. She kept reviewing the dance etiquette Harriet had shared with her. The complicated social conventions attached to the evening worried her. Harriet promised to watch over her when she could, but she expected to be dancing most of the evening and would not always be available to offer guidance.

  Even more on Anne’s mind was what had happened after she had time to contemplate Harriet’s assessment of Lady Catherine. Perhaps her friend could have been right about her mother’s insensitivity to the feelings of others. Anne had always viewed her mother as a respected, if perhaps highly passionate, moral arbiter. She knew what was right and had no fear of speaking when she saw errors being made by those around her. In that regard, she shared much with the freewheeling Harriet. But the effects of their actions were so very different. Lady Catherine commanded instant respect, perhaps to a small degree based on trepidation. Harriet’s observations led to self-examination and a greater understanding, if the listener cared to think about her words.

  However, even more concerning than the possibility of her mother being flawed was what Anne had caught herself doing. Several times over the previous two days she had dressed down a servant for a minor matter, something entirely out of her character. In the past, if someone had made a mistake, she simply pointed out the error or made do. Now she found herself criticizing and expecting the problem to be rectified immediately. That very afternoon, when Dolly took too long to get Anne’s costume prepared, Anne heard her mother’s voice coming out of her mouth in a brief excoriation of the maid. Dolly’s surprised rush of tears horrified Anne. What had she done? Did she miss her mother’s strength and insights so much that she supplied them on her own? …Or was she becoming her mother? For most of her life, she considered that a boon. Now she had doubts. She apologized to the good-hearted Dolly, who readily accepted her request for forgiveness. But how many other people had she lambasted in the previous days? She would need to have a meeting with the staff in the morning to express her regrets if she had offended anyone.

  After they arrived at the ambassador’s residence, Anne surprised herself by recognizing so many of those in attendance. Of course, everyone had a costume of some sort, but many eschewed masks. After all, the disguises would be discarded at the end of the evening and everyone would be made known. But Anne felt some surprise that her modest socializing had made known to her so many in the English population. As several ladies greeted her, for the first time Anne felt herself to be part of a community. What an exhilaration! She knew that when she returned to Rosings she would have to do more outside the home. She hoped her mother would approve.

  As they entered the ballroom, Harriet lamented that its square shape would not accommodate the long rows for country dancing and might instead force quadrilles on the crowd. While Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson found a place to sit and observe the dance floor, the forthright Cheshire girl announced that she would survey the residence to learn more of the arrangements. A few minutes later, she returned with a smile and two eager junior officers in tow. She announced that the usual country dances were set for the evening, and there would be no tiresome minuets. She also proclaimed that not only were there rooms for the old gents to drink and have an evening with their card games, but also a dining room had been set up replete with English and Italian delicacies. “Ensign Barton says that the ambassador is following some local custom and will have food available all evening. There will be a supper, ‘a course, but the old ones and hungry young ones can replenish themselves whenever they wish. There will also be a lengthy interval for the musicians—and perhaps the ambassador’s creaky old wife, so she can pretend she is young enough to dance all night—and we must not mistake it for the supper. What a feast—food all night! We will have to work hard not to go home carrying our stomachs in a cart!”

  Before Mrs. Jenkinson could quiz her about the Italian delicacies, two more soldiers came to greet Harriet, each requesting dances. The elated girl accepted all the invitations, and she bid Anne good luck as she went out onto the dance floor with the most senior of her beaux. Anne gave permission to Dr. Minton to go out in search of partners, as there seemed to be a surplus of women in attendance. At first he said he would stay with her, but on her third repetition of her request, with great politeness he said he could not disappoint her and went out to reconnoiter the ladies. She watched him make his choice of the no-longer-young wife of the assistant ambassador—a politic selection, both in terms of neither offending his patient nor causing jealousy with her husband, who was busy overseeing the evening’s festivities.

  Watching the merrymaking from a safe corner, Anne thrilled in all of the evening’s irresistible joy. However, by the time the third set finished, Anne regretted her belief that she could dance in public. The music was either too energetic or something she did not know. The sets seemed foreshortened, perhaps in recognition of the scarcity of men as much as the room’s square shape, but she lived in dread of being asked to dance. The shorter sets meant more moving and less standing. She had counted on a great deal of standing to help husband her meager energy reserves. When a gentleman came by looking for a partner, Anne hid behind her fan and talked with Mrs. Jenkinson until he passed by. Anne’s protective shepherd understood her stratagem and made sure to keep a lookout for potential problems. After the sixth dance, fewer men strolled by in search of partners, and they could let down their guard and watch in safety.

  Anne surveyed the astounding variety of flamboyant costumes. Freed by the season and the distance from home, her countrymen had outdone themselves with creative excess. Greek and Roman gods, Harlequins and Columbines, fortunetellers, foreign peasants, and all manner of colorful historical figures filled the hall. Her Elizabethan dress, which had looked garish and overdone at the villa, appeared so subdued in comparison that it could hardly be noticed amid all the tawdry finery.

  Anne felt happy seeing Harriet having a wonderful time on the dance floor and never wanting for partners. But eventually Anne’s attention was drawn from her friend to a figure dressed in a flowing black domino. In addition to the cape, the man had a mask, unlike many others, and a large tricorn on his head. Anne did not recognize him. He was tall, a masterful dancer, and, from the gazes of the women in the room, a much-wished-for partner. Despite his voluminous wrap, the domino moved freely enough to show off his fine legs, as if he needed to display that confirmation of his dancing skills. He obliged the surplus of ladies in attendance by partaking in every dance and never sitting down to rest. Harriet had a pair of spirited dances with him, and afterwards she came back to join her friends for a rest in the growing warmth of the ballroom. She flopped into her chair with an exclamation of exhausted exultation. “Oh, Anne! Did you see my last partner?”

  Anne replied that she did.

  Harriet said with a sigh, “Signor Domino is by far the best dancer in the room tonight. And such a gentleman! Handsome, too, even if he hides it behind his mask. I wish I knew who he is. When the evening’s over and all are unmasked, we shall have to find him and invite him up for tea. But we better be quick, or else every other woman will b
e in line before us!”

  Dr. Minton returned to his chair for a rest as Harriet waxed long with her praise of the mysterious gentleman. The doctor tried to hide his scowl as he examined the fellow. Mrs. Jenkinson asked the doctor if he had met the stranger during his trips to town. “I have not made his acquaintance,” he replied, “although earlier I saw him talking with the ambassador and his assistant as if he knew them. I imagine he is a soldier stationed here.”

  Harriet shook her head. “I know all the officers, and I will bet my last shilling he is no enlisted man. I heard there is an English frigate come into port today. Maybe he is in the navy.” Harriet gave her friend a teasing glance. “He asked about you, Anne. I would not be surprised if he seeks you out before the evening is through.”

  Mrs. Jenkinson beamed at her charge, but, despite the warmth of the room, Anne’s body shook with an icy shiver. Everyone was watching him, and if she were his partner, she in turn would be watched by all. Surely she would not know the dances and make a mess of it with all eyes on her—such a dreadful prospect! Or worse, her endurance would not last and she would have to leave the set in the middle, causing a ripple of chaos that would upset the entire dance floor. She wanted to flee, but doing so would force the others to curtail their evening. She had long since given up the notion of dancing at the masquerade, so turning down the stranger would do no harm. But she dreaded the conversation. She so rarely talked with men, and under the scrutiny of all the others, she knew she would say something wrong and offend him. She stood in haste and announced that she would go to the supper room and return later. Dr. Minton and Mrs. Jenkinson stood to attend her, but before Harriet could join them, a stout young Bacchus found her and led her away to the dance.

  In the quiet of the dining room, the trio found only a handful of older men talking of cards and a table of older women discussing the evening. The English supper would not be ready for hours, but a side table offered a delight of dishes both foreign and domestic. Anne gathered a few items on a plate, but she had no appetite. When she and her two attendants settled at an empty table, she did not even bother removing her mask in an admission that she would not be dining. She stared at the food on her plate in a forlorn gloom. Dr. Minton watched her actions and offered polite inquiries about how she felt, was she tired, etc. He suggested that he should hire a carriage to take the two of them home and leave their own transportation for the others when they wished to depart. Mrs. Jenkinson said she would stay with Anne, but Dr. Minton reminded her that her departure would leave Harriet by herself, so the only appropriate option would be for him to take Anne back to the villa and for Mrs. Jenkinson to stay. Anne knew that would cause inconvenience for all, and she said she did not need to leave. She wanted to stay and learn as much as she could about dances in case she ever went to another one. She did not admit to the others that if this turned out to be the only ball she ever attended, she did not want to leave early and recall only how afraid she had been.

  Once she felt assured that her charge felt only nervous and not unwell, Mrs. Jenkinson ate her fill of the English and Neapolitan food on the side tables. She lamented their future loss of Italian cuisine and hoped the recipe list Mrs. Ross planned with the villa’s cook would be ready by the time they left for home. Dr. Minton ate, a little, spending more time trying to encourage Anne to eat something. Once this had been Mrs. Jenkinson’s task, but as Anne progressed in health and strength, to Anne’s relief Mrs. Jenkinson had eased her efforts. That created an opening for Dr. Minton to step in. Usually frustrated by a gentleman partaking in this menial hovering, tonight she found herself not unhappy with Dr. Minton’s minute ministrations. If nothing else, they distracted from her regrets over how ill-prepared she had been for the evening.

  If she had the chance when they returned to England, Anne hoped to attend more balls just to watch and study. She thought of all the young people in attendance tonight, moving so comfortably through the many nuances of the event. Surely Emily and Frances Fairfax knew every rule and would be at ease in this environment, while she, many years their senior, knew almost nothing. The cloistered nature of her life nagged at her again. Why had she been so sickly? It had stunted a great many aspects of her life.

  As Mrs. Jenkinson announced that she could not possibly eat another bite, a platoon of servants appeared with more dishes. Mrs. Jenkinson ogled the pastas and ragouts, but she demurred, with regrets. A few minutes later, laughter filled the hallway. The interval had arrived, and soon the room would be full of merrymakers. Unwilling to face the crowd, Anne announced that she would return to the dance hall. As she stood, Dr. Minton wolfed down the last of his meal and joined her. Her stomach full from the glories of the side table, Mrs. Jenkinson waddled along behind them.

  The dancing hall stood mostly empty, save for the musicians taking their break and a few chatting stragglers. Despite the windows being fully open, the oppressive heat from all the activity took Anne’s breath away for a moment. She wondered if someday she would ever have the chance to participate in such an intense event. Surely if she did, the warmth and exercise would make her swoon.

  Anne retook her chair in the corner and brought out her fan for some relief, then she blanched at seeing the handsome stranger enter the room from the front hall. She looked away, but she heard him approach her group. She looked up to see him standing before her. He removed his tricorn, revealing thick, well-groomed black hair. He offered her a sweeping bow in keeping with his dramatic cloak and mask. “My lady,” he said in tones that indicated he was a gentleman of some education, “I am sorry I did not come tonight as Francis Drake.”

  Anne recalled Harriet mentioning one peculiarity of masquerade etiquette that allowed people to speak freely with one another without being introduced. Hoping her voice betrayed none of her terror, she replied, “Sir, you are late to the interval. You will miss out on some very fine food.”

  “Yes,” he said as he replaced his hat, “I am afraid one of my shoes gave way in the last dance, and I had to fetch my second pair.”

  Anne had no idea how to respond. At her silence, Mrs. Jenkinson chimed in, “I am not surprised, sir. You have danced every dance. You deserve a good rest before you begin again.”

  He smiled and chatted with her about not wanting to disappoint the abundance of women who wished to dance. Anne took the moment to study him. Of the local English population, she had met more of the women than the men, but she hoped that she might recognize him. His rich brown eyes were not familiar, and neither was his well-inflected voice. He apologized to them for his perspiration from the warm room, and Mrs. Jenkinson, clearly captivated by the stranger, offered him absolution and praise for his good and generous activity. Despite his exertion, to Anne’s eyes he showed no signs of fatigue. As Harriet had observed, he was the best dancer in the hall.

  His attention returned to Anne. “I noticed you have not danced this evening. If you are accepting invitations, I would be honored to have the first two dances after the interval.”

  She had no idea what to say, but she finally admitted the truth. “Sir, I must decline. I know very few dances, and even if I did, I would lack the strength to finish even one rigorous set.”

  He nodded, thinking. “Perhaps the first lady will choose to begin slowly when everyone returns from eating. If you would be so kind, please tell me some of your favorite dances. I shall make inquiries if the musicians know them.”

  Anne mentioned the two absolute slowest dances she knew. But in such an energetic setting, it would be absurd for anyone to choose them.

  The man thanked her. “Might I have the honor of escorting you to the interval?”

  “We have dined already,” Anne managed to say.

  He offered her another gallant bow. “I hope we shall talk later.” He turned and went to the musicians, who were dining on food brought in for them.

  Anne knew nothing would come of their talking later, despite his stated wishes. However, he was an uncommonly gallant gentleman. Perh
aps Harriet had guessed correctly about his being a naval officer.

  Only then did Anne notice the scowl on Dr. Minton’s face as he watched the gentleman talking with the musicians. “Doctor,” she said, and he roused himself from his glare. “You seem concerned. Are you worried about the prospect of your patient dancing?” Despite her polite words, she knew that could not be the case. Even as socially unskilled as she was, she knew the look of jealousy, and she found his anger amusing.

  “No, Miss. Well, in fact, yes, I am concerned about this heat. Without a good breeze to stir the air, I fear you would be sickened from exerting yourself here. Your decision to limit yourself to observing the evening has been very wise.” He then offered to find a waiter and bring her some punch. She agreed with his excellent idea. She did not need the refreshment; she needed for him to leave so she could release the laugh waiting in her throat. He excused himself and departed to find a waiter.

  He was barely out of the room when Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson both erupted in laughter. “Oh, Miss Anne,” Mrs. Jenkinson sighed, “did you ever see such a thing? And in a grown man! I am so glad you made him leave. I feared I would laugh in his face!”

  Anne laughed so hard that it brought on a coughing spell. As she found her handkerchief, she looked up to see the mystery man standing above her again. “Are you unwell? Shall I find you a doctor?”

  That made Anne giggle again, but as she worked to hold in her mirth she signaled that she was all right. When she found her voice, she thanked him for his kind offer.

  He nodded, then said, “With your permission, my lady, I would like to request again the next two dances. I believe you will have nothing to fear.”

  Anne’s mirth died and she grew pale. “Sir, I….”

  “I understand,” he said. “But please consider it. Do not give me your answer until the interval is over.” He bowed, then left for the dining room.

  As Anne’s dread washed over her, Mrs. Jenkinson marveled. “He does you such an honor. I hope you will consider giving him at least one dance. I am certain he would understand if you could not manage the second.”

  Anne’s doubts grew. “Do you trust him?”

  The widow nodded. “By my honor, I do. Besides, Dr. Minton said he seemed to be on friendly terms with the ambassador and assistant ambassador. Surely they would not have invited him if he were a scoundrel.”

  Anne contemplated her companion’s words. How confusing. Why would a man be interested in her? Harriet must have told him who she was, and he had heard of the wealth she would inherit someday. That could be the only explanation.

  When Harriet came back from the dining room a short time later, Anne quizzed her about the mystery man and what she had said to him. She promised that he had neither asked for her name nor had she mentioned it. “He asked about my friend who sat in the corner and did not dance. He wanted to know if there was some reason why you hid so quiet and out of the way, and if it would be impolite for him to ask you for a dance. I told him you were recuperating from an illness, and that you were the shyest creature I had ever met in my whole life.”

  Anne blushed. “Harriet!”

  “He took it without question. Besides, it is true.” She winked at her friend. “I noticed he came down late. Did he come by to ask you?”

  Anne nodded.

  Harriet gushed, “What did you say?”

  “That I would consider it.”

  Mrs. Jenkinson said, “Miss, from what Miss Armistead says, I would say he is an honorable gentleman and you should consider accepting.”

  Anne regarded her fervent advisors as Dr. Minton reappeared with a glass of punch. He presented it to her with kindness and respect. “Are you feeling better?”

  Anne took a sip and said that she did feel much improved, then asked if he could bring refreshments for her companions. He nodded and left. “Dr. Minton does not want me to dance.”

  Harriet countered, “That is every reason to do it, then. Oh, Anne, please say yes. If you say no, I will be forced to accept in your place and I do not know how I could ever dance with another man after being his partner twice.” She laughed.

  Anne thought for a long while, coming up with every reasonable excuse to say no. Then she noticed that in small groups people had begun to return to the dance hall. She had little time left. She sipped again from her glass of punch, invigorated by its cool freshness and liquid courage. Her friends said yes, but her fear said no. Fear was her oldest companion of all, having been with her from her earliest days. But when had it ever told her something that was not in its own best interest? If she made a mess of the dance, the chatty assistant ambassador would surely include an account of it in a letter to her mother. He mentioned several letters that he had already written to her.

  But what would come of it? Her mother would give her a gentle scolding for damaging her dignity in public. It could be no worse than that. Perhaps it was the rum in the punch, but by the time Dr. Minton had returned with glasses for Harriet and Mrs. Jenkinson, Anne had made up her mind.

  The mystery man came into the room from a quick meal. Anne stood, waiting for him. As he approached, she held out her hand. “Yes, Signor Domino. I shall dance with you.”

  He beamed as he bowed, then took her hand. Anne ignored Dr. Minton’s scowl as she gave her empty glass to Mrs. Jenkinson and let her partner lead her out to the dance floor. By twos and fours, they were joined by Harlequins, sultanas, a shepherdess and a Robin Hood, a Roman emperor, Bo-Peep, Red Riding Hood, and several soldiers escorting fortunetellers and Italian peasants.

  As she and Signor Domino stood two couples down from the head of the set, Anne imagined all eyes were on her, with many a feminine pair tinged green. She feared what would follow, praying for the accuracy of this stranger’s assurance that she had nothing to fear. She eyed the young woman who held the honor of this set’s first lady. Despite the sultana’s mask, Anne recognized her as the Babcocks’ daughter Barbara. What dances would the lively girl decide for them? Anne prayed that she would not show off her own skills with something energetic and dreadful.

  Miss Babcock gave Signor Domino a smiling nod. Anne recalled seeing the two dance together previously, so perhaps she hoped to be asked again. To Anne’s surprise, however, Miss Babcock announced the first of Anne’s dances. Anne had been trying to hide her discomfort by looking at everyone other than Signor Domino, but at the first lady’s words she gazed at him in wonder. Surely during the interval he had engaged in a kindly conspiracy with Miss Babcock to bring this about. He merely nodded with proper solemnity, and the dance began.

  Anne had no time to converse with her partner as the dance required all her attention. Each step and turn demanded complete concentration. Within moments she was glowing from her effort in the overheated room, but she could spare no thoughts to ponder how ill she might look. All her previous dancing had been in a private home with friends, mere practice. She stiffened with nerves, then remembered Monsieur Saint-Vancomy’s gentle advice to have joy. As she completed a turn, right on time was Signor Domino’s hand, calm and firm, ready to take hers. Some of his confidence seemed to pass through his hand into her. She could do this. She would have to forgo the polite conversation that Harriet said would be expected, but she hoped he would forgive her.

  Before she realized it, the dance concluded. She caught her breath and gazed in wonder at her partner. He nodded and smiled, saying, “Methinks you have been doing this your entire life.”

  “Indeed, I have not!” Anne exclaimed. “I cannot thank you enough. This was a dream come true.”

  A small frown touched his lips. “Will you not give me the second dance?”

  She found her handkerchief and dabbed her face at the edges of her mask. How could she think of ruining so perfect a memory?

  “Are you fatigued, my lady?” asked Signor Domino.

  Anne stood frozen, not knowing where to look. Upon hearing Miss Babcock announce the next dance—the second of Anne’s choices—she knew she had
no excuse to abandon the dance floor. In truth, turning her back on his generosity would be a greater insult than trying and failing. She prayed she could muster the requisite mettle. She heard herself say, “Yes, a second dance.”

  The music began, and once again she forewent the usual talk. The dance’s delicate maneuvers were perfectly suited to the last of her energy. Where some of the girls skipped, she stepped. No extra flourishes, just the graceful and elegant lines. If she had not been so tired, she would have enjoyed this more. But she would be satisfied in accomplishing the dance, if not in doing it well. At one point she noticed Harriet and Mrs. Jenkinson watching her, sharing her triumph. Two dances in a row! Who could have imagined it?

  This, too, came to an end sooner than Anne expected, even as she worried that she would not be able to continue. Signor Domino took her hand and led her back to her chair. As Mrs. Jenkinson handed Anne her fan, Harriet gushed to the mystery man, “Please, before all the other women ask you later, would you join us for tea tomorrow or the next day?”

  He shook his head with regret. “Alas, I may not. I must leave for home in the morning.”

  Anne surprised herself by asking, “Could you delay a day or two?”

  He said, “I wish I could. But I shall return for the unmasking to bid you all farewell.” He bowed with a flourish worthy of his dramatic costume and took his leave.

  Anne’s gaze followed him as he approached a young wood nymph sitting nearby and spoke briefly with her. She nodded with an enchanted smile and took his hand. He led her to the dance floor.

  Harriet said to her friend, “Anne, you were so magical out there! I could scarcely believe my eyes. We must find out who he is so you can cross paths with him again back home. I am actually looking forward to returning to England now!”

  Dr. Minton joined them from the dance floor and offered Anne another glass of punch he had collected along the way. “You look all in,” he said as she sipped the cool drink. “I hope you won’t exert yourself further.”

  She watched the mystery man take his place in the set. “I can assure you, doctor, I am content to stay here and watch for the rest of the evening.”

  He nodded with satisfaction. As Harriet and Mrs. Jenkinson occupied the chairs that flanked Anne, he sat next to Mrs. Jenkinson. “I am pleased to see how well you did,” he said to his patient. “How far you have come since you left England!”

  As she watched Signor Domino partake in a lively dance with his new partner, she could not agree more. How far she had come, in so many ways. She would need at least two days to write all this in letters to her mother and cousin Elizabeth. How could she capture the evening without sounding as if she were boasting?

  The heat of the room caught up with her, and she could not bear having on her ill-fitting mask for another moment. Harriet tried to prevent her from revealing her identity so soon, but Anne removed the mask. She studied it in her hands, then watched the mystery man. Would he be so ready to keep her acquaintance once he saw her face? The magic of their dances faded in her thoughts, and she doubted he would return as promised. As he waited his turn in the dance, he caught sight of her. He nodded and smiled before returning his attention to his partner. Anne sighed. What did she have to offer this gallant man for his friendship other than opportunities to be noble and condescending? At least she had the triumph of her dances, even if she felt sure that he must be the reason for her success.

  A pang of hunger surprised her, and she remembered that she had not eaten a bite of food. She announced that she would go to the dining room for some of whatever might be left, and Mrs. Jenkinson agreed to go with her. Dr. Minton tried to go as well, but Anne said nothing would please her more than for him to make some woman happy by offering to dance. Anne gave the mystery man another long gaze, and then the two left the heat and music for the relative cool and quiet of the dining room.

  Among the stragglers still at the tables, Anne savored a bowl of soup that tasted better than anything she had ever eaten in her life. Despite her certainty that they would never see each other again after this night, her mind was full of Signor Domino. If only she could compete with the other ladies who must swarm around him day and night! She wanted to laugh at her own nonsense, but she already felt his absence, even though he had not yet departed from Naples. How could she miss someone she had only just met? Did she dare inquire about where he would be in a few months when she arrived home?

  With fear and impatience doing battle in her head, she waited for Mrs. Jenkinson to nibble away at an entire second supper. Sensing Anne’s impatience to return to the dance, Mrs. Jenkinson nobly passed over a second helping of flummery, and they left the dining room.

  The two returned to a dancing hall that at first glance appeared the same, but the tenor of the activity had changed. Fewer dancers graced the floor, and Anne could see the ambassador and his staff engaged in an urgent conversation in the corner of the room. The mystery man was missing, as were a number of the officers. Anne found Harriet sitting out the dance and asked her what had happened. “I don’t rightly know. I was dancing, and then it ended sooner than usual. I lost my partner when the ambassador gathered some of the soldiers from the dance, and the group has been at it over there for ten minutes or more.”

  “Where is Signor Domino?” Anne asked.

  Harriet replied, “He was in the first group the ambassador pulled off the floor. I did not see him leave.”

  Dr. Minton joined the women. “Something is amiss, but no one will tell me what is happening. I have called for our carriage. I believe the evening will be ending shortly.”

  Anne sat with nervous, clenched hands as she studied the concerned faces of the men huddled around the ambassador. She had no idea what it could mean, but she knew it meant ill.

  The dance finished, and the ambassador left his group. He stood before the musicians, his face grave. “My friends,” he proclaimed in somber tones, “I have received a most alarming message this evening. A courier has brought word that the Treaty of Amiens has been withdrawn. England has declared war against the French Republic. Hostilities may recommence at any time.” Gasps and a flurry of hushed conversations erupted. “As you know, in recent times Naples has been subject to the power of France. The courier heard reports from other parts of Italy that French government agents are seizing Englishmen and taking them into custody. For your own safety, I recommend you not wait for further news. I urge you to leave Naples as quickly as you can.”

  Panicked shrieks punctuated the buzz of conversation as some merrymakers dashed for the door while others sought out their friends for discussion and plans. Dr. Minton ushered the ladies out through the throng into the jarring cool of the restless Neapolitan street to await their carriage.