Daisy’s Betrayal

It would have been impolitic in the extreme to have refused so, when the trio embarked on the next dance, a polka, she joined him and whirled around him nimbly.

‘You dance very well,’ he said when they met face to face for a few seconds.

‘Thank you,’ she replied with a broad smile at the next conjunction. ‘It’s what servants do sometimes in their spare time.’

‘Dancing is not the activity I heard they do,’ he said, with a provocative flick of his eyebrows and a smug grin as he twirled around.

Her skirts rustled as he brushed uncomfortably close to her at their next turn.

‘How so, Mr Robert?’ she said, retaining her smile. ‘If you mean what I think you mean, I am not aware of any unsavoury goings on at Baxter House.’

‘Fiddlesticks, Daisy! It goes on everywhere.’

‘In some houses, maybe … But not here, I can promise you. In any case, it’s a delicate subject to discuss whirling round on the dance floor.’

‘Quite the lady, aren’t you?’ he commented, and she could not make up her mind whether he was being sarcastic or complimentary. ‘How old are you now, Daisy?’

‘I was always led to believe it impolite to ask a woman her age,’ she answered, avoiding his eyes.

‘That depends on the eminence of the woman,’ he said cuttingly, putting her roundly in her place. ‘So what is your age? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?’

‘About that,’ she replied, humiliated and yet determined not to give him the satisfaction of a direct answer.

‘And not married yet. Nor even courting, I am led to believe.’

Daisy could scarcely believe his outrageous directness. As they tripped across the dance floor she looked directly into his eyes. ‘Mr Robert, I can assure you that no man I have ever met has made me yearn to be married to him, either for love, money, or convenience.’

‘My dear Daisy,’ he guffawed, overlooking or failing to note the rebuff.

Thankfully, at that moment, the dance ended. At once Daisy made a move to leave him and he unhanded her. She stood for some minutes, her head down, dejected at Robert’s disparaging attitude.

When she looked up she saw that people were once more dancing, though she had not noticed the trio strike up again, nor the sound of skidding feet marking the polished wooden floor as couples swivelled graciously around each other. So many straight backs and elegantly inclined heads. This throng, apart from the uncaring Mr Robert, was the cream of Black Country society. She scanned the sea of faces as they danced, and she spotted him on the floor again. His back was towards her and his partner was Fanny. Was he trying to make a cuckold of his friend?

‘Pardon me for saying so, but any man who would leave you standing on your own at the edge of a dance floor clearly doesn’t deserve you,’ a man’s voice whispered very close to Daisy’s ear. ‘Especially since you’re standing directly beneath a sprig of mistletoe.’

She turned her head to see who had spoken. At the sight of Lawson Maddox and his twinkling eyes she gave a blushing smile, and looked up at the mistletoe optimistically.

‘May I introduce myself?’

‘No, please,’ she replied with breathless ambiguity at being taken by such a pleasant surprise.

‘Lawson Maddox. I hope you’ll pardon me but I’ve been watching you and, apart from the polka you danced with my friend Mr Robert Cookson, you’ve been standing alone. I assumed therefore that you are unescorted. Don’t you know anybody here?’

‘Oh, yes, yes,’ she said recklessly. ‘I am with others.’

‘Are you a relative of Mr or Mrs Cookson?’

‘No … But I am connected,’ she added obscurely. Obviously, he did not know she was merely a servant. And why should she confess it?

‘Connected by trade, then? Through your parents, perhaps?’

She gave an indefinite half nod. She had no wish to lie and, she thought, the best way out of answering directly, which would certainly turn her into a liar, was to turn the conversation.

‘Isn’t that your lady friend dancing with Robert now?’ she remarked.

‘How do you know she’s my lady friend?’

‘Because I saw you enter with her earlier.’

‘Ah. May I dare to hope that you have already been watching me then?’

She smiled enigmatically, to preserve her self-respect, for she could not allow him to think such a thing. ‘I’ve been admiring her dress.’

‘Oh.’ He returned a dazzling beam that made her insides churn. ‘Why is life always so full of disappointments?’

‘Is it?’ she queried. ‘I would have thought life was full of delights. Especially for a man like you.’

‘I don’t know your name.’

‘Daisy Drake.’

‘Daisy?’

She nodded, and her pleasure at his attention showed in her big blue eyes.

‘Now there’s a name to conjure with. The daisy is a beautiful white flower. But not half as beautiful as you … As if you didn’t know already.’

Her smile stretched from one ear to the other, showing off her even teeth to good advantage. ‘I’m sure it’s not true, Mr Maddox, but it’s good of you to say so.’

‘Oh, call me Lawson. And it is true. You know it is. You and your lovely name are a fine match. You’re easily the loveliest young woman here tonight.’

‘Oh, how can you say that?’ she answered modestly. ‘Your lady friend is very pretty. Far prettier than me.’ She was fishing, of course, not just for a further compliment, but for information about his relationship with that girl.

‘Fanny,’ he acknowledged. ‘She’s not really my young lady, as you call her, in the sense that we are a couple. We’re not romantically linked.’

‘But she seems to think the world of you. I’ve seen how she looks at you.’

‘Fanny?’ he said incredulously and laughed. ‘You’re mistaken.’

Well, Daisy was not about to argue with him, even though she believed he was plainly wrong. Maybe he was just too blind to see it.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘The band is playing another waltz. Would you allow me the honour?’

She smiled acquiescently and he led her to the floor. He put his hand to her waist and again she felt that surge of blood through her veins that made her temples throb and tied her stomach in knots. Off they went. He was an adept dancer and led her expertly. As they swirled around together he nodded, grinning, to Robert and Fanny as they swished past.

What was it about him that induced this physical reaction in her? She wanted to curl up in his arms and be pampered by his caresses. She wanted to feel his arms around her all night – every night. She surreptitiously sniffed at him to familiarise herself with the scent of him, something she could remember when he was gone, for she had no doubt at all that she would never see him again after that night.

‘Are you local?’ he asked as they glided around the floor.