The Night of the Winter Ball

Back in the ballroom, the dancing was once again in full swing. The last strains of a lively polka could be heard, and there was a marked lessening of formality in the air. Many a tired-out chaperone had retired to bed, giving amorous couples newfound opportunities to flirt—a perfect setting for herself and Edwin.

Beth could still hardly believe it. Edwin loved her. They were to be married. Was this a dream she would wake from come morning?

“Do not tell me, Beth, that you have promised a dance to anyone else this night,” rumbled Edwin at her side.

No, not a dream. She gave a happy sigh, and replied, “I am not promised to anyone but you.”

“Good.” There was intense satisfaction in that one word. “Then I believe this next waltz is mine. Come, dearest.”

And gladly, she let him lead her to the dancefloor. The waltz began, and his arms were around her once more. But this waltz was unlike the previous one. There was no stiffness in her stance. There were no more doubts. And the man holding her close, looking at her steadily, was actually smiling.

They whirled around the room, lost in their own happy world. At the end of the dance, he bowed, showing her every gentlemanly courtesy—but there was a new twinkle in his eyes, echoed in her pert grin as she curtsied prettily for him. He gave her his arm, and she let him lead her off the dancefloor, towards a familiar group of persons gathered to one side of the room.

“You are both looking remarkably cheery,” observed Isabella.

Aunt Charlotte, standing beside her daughter, examined Beth and stifled a tired yawn. “Yes, indeed,” she agreed, then added, “and that was your second waltz tonight with the same partner.”

Uncle Frank crossed his arms over his chest, but he addressed his words to Edwin. “Is there something we need to discuss, Morton?” he demanded sternly.

Edwin did not flinch. With great self-possession, even an air of hitherto unseen nonchalance, he replied, “Indeed there is.”

The two men exchanged a long and penetrating stare, neither one of them giving way. At length, Uncle Frank nodded. “Come see me in the morning, and we shall talk.”

Just then, Daniel came upon their group. “What is all this standing about?” he demanded. “Make haste and get into your sets for the next dance.”

“Count us out of it,” replied his father. “It is well past time your mama and me went to bed.”

“But do enjoy yourselves, and have a very merry time,” said Aunt Charlotte. “Goodnight all. Daniel, my love, it was a magnificent ball.”

Soon, the elder Stantons had taken their leave. Edwin turned to Beth. “Our dance,” he said.

“People shall talk,” warned Isabella.

With a giddy smile, Beth replied, “Let them.” And she allowed her betrothed to sweep her once more onto the dancefloor.

It was much later, in the early hours of the morning, that the ball finally wound down to a close. Weary guests departed in their waiting carriages, while others went up to their chambers at Stanton Hall. Daniel shepherded his siblings, cousins and spouses to the family parlour, insisting they all take a nightcap of mulled wine before retiring to bed. One by one, they entered the room, sinking down onto the settee and various chairs while a servant added logs to the fire. Another came in shortly, bearing glasses of the mulled wine.

Beth took a warming sip, knowing the inquisition was soon to come. She was not wrong.

“So, Beth,” Grace began, fixing her sister with her gaze. “Tell us now. We have been dying to know.”

Beth shrugged a little self-consciously, but her words were steady as she said, “Edwin and I are to be married.”

“I knew it!” declared Sarah.

“You owe me two guineas,” grinned Benedict, though his words were directed at Silas.

“You made a wager?” Grace whirled at her husband, shock etched on her face. “But you are a vicar!”

“I would hope, my love, that you would know, after all these years together, that I am as fallible as anyone, despite being a man of the cloth. I simply bet that Edwin and Beth would be betrothed by Christmas. Silas thought the task would take a trifle longer than that. Now pay up, good man.”

With a wry smile, Silas dug into his pocket for the coins then stopped, looking pointedly at Edwin. “I think first, it is Edwin that needs to pay up.”

All eyes turned to her betrothed, including Beth’s. “Edwin?” she enquired. “What is this about?” In the same instant, she recalled mention of a wager the morning after the Advent dinner party.

Edwin had the grace to look discomfited. “Ah, well dearest, I was so certain of the matter that I bet the workhouse would be mine by Christmas. Then of course, you came along and set all my plans askew.”

Daniel burst into laughter. Everyone joined in, and so too did Beth. Eventually, she spluttered, “I am sorry to have cost you the money.”

Edwin took her hand and kissed it. “It is the best money I ever lost,” he said, and paid up. Silas held the coins for all of a second before dropping them into the vicar’s waiting palm.

It was nearly dawn before the party broke up. Edwin saw her to the foot of the stairs and kissed her hand once more. Beth had danced until her feet ached, yet she all but floated up to bed.