Chapter 119:
The Dance
Mr. Punch tapped his foot to the music of the pipers and the fiddlers who, without exhaustion, had been playing ceaselessly throughout the ball. He grinned as he watched the staff, and some of the lords and ladies, dancing in circles—hooking their arms together and spinning like the blades of a windmill. Punch paused only occasionally to glance up at the staircase—worried that the sound of the music might keep Colin awake.
“Looks like they’re all havin’ a good time,” Punch whispered in his own voice to Robert who stood next to him, his hand on the small of Punch’s back.
“Indeed.” Robert nodded.
“Look at all of ‘em—dancin’.”
Robert smiled.
“I never danced before.” Punch continued.
“I’ve seen you dance dozens of times, dear Punch.” Robert grinned.
“Well, sure—by me-self, in front of the fire or for Colin. But, them’s just a little jig, they are. All Punchinellos dance a jig now and ‘gain. I ain’t never danced with another person, I mean.”
“It can be quite disorienting.” Robert replied. “One gets dizzy and out of breath and red in the cheeks—all overheated.”
“Lots of things do that to a person.” Punch grinned. “Most of ‘em quite a lark.”
“Oh?” Robert chuckled.
“Sure—like when we go walkin’ or when we’re runnin’ up and down the stairs with Dog Toby.”
Robert laughed. “Ah, I see.” He shook his head. “However, I don’t recall ever running up and down the stairs with Toby.”
“Oh. I do that.” Punch nodded. “Mostly at home. See—them long flights of stairs at No. 65 are best for it. We run all the way up to the attics and down ‘gain.”
“Really?”
“Well, I gotta do somethin’ when you’re out doctorin’ folk. And, I can only sit still and draw for so long before I gotta get up and do somethin’. ‘Sides Dog Toby likes it.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Bet he’d like to dance, too.”
“Dogs don’t dance.” Robert laughed.
“Don’t they?” Punch raised his eyebrows.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Ain’t you never seen Toby when he goes outside? After he does what dogs do, he does a little dance.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way.” Robert smiled. “I suppose he does dance.”
“See?” Punch sighed. “Everybody dancin’ ‘cept me.”
“Do you want to dance, dear Punch?”
“Maybe.” Punch said slyly.
“Well, I’m sure any number of the ladies here would love to dance with the Duke of Fallbridge.”
“I don’t wanna dance with none of them.”
“Why not?”
“Cuz.” Punch frowned. “I wanna dance with you, Chum.”
“Dear Punch,” Robert began.
“I know.” Punch sighed. “Wouldn’t be proper for the two of us to dance.”
“It wouldn’t.” Robert answered softly.
“Even in me own house.” Punch muttered. “With me own companion what I love so very much.”
“Even so, dear Punch, I’ve not danced in many years and I’m not very good at it to begin with. Furthermore, I don’t know any of these Scottish dances.”
“Our friends didn’t neither. But, look at ‘em. They’re all out there.”
“Ethel and Jenny and George are all young. Youth allows us to do a host of things which we wouldn’t do at our age.”
“Look.” Punch nodded. “Charlie and Vi are dancin’. Charlie ain’t so much younger than you. The Lord Dunbrook is dancin’ with Lady Dunbrook and they’re much older than we are. Even Gerry and Gamilla are dancin’, and, if you’ll recall, Chum, Gamilla said it weren’t ‘fit’ for a white man to dance with an African girl. But, there they are.”
“Yes, there they are.”
“Don’t you want to dance with me?”
“Of course I do.” Robert said quickly. “You know I do. It’s just that…”
Punch smiled.
“Damn it all.” Robert snorted. With that, he grabbed Punch by the arm and pulled him to the center of the room. Hooking his arm through Punch’s the two of them began to spin about in time to the music—their kilts fluttering up just enough to show their knees.
Everyone else in the great hall stopped dancing and turned to stare at the two masters of the Grange as they—grinning enormously—swept in a great oval around the floor.
Suddenly, much to Punch’s delight, the revelers began to clap in time to the music, cheering the two men on—all except the Countess Hamish who looked completely horrified by the spectacle.
Dear Mr. Punch was so happy that he almost forgot how concerned he was about Colin. Almost. With each pass and turn, he glanced quickly to the top of the stairs, deciding that when they’d finished their dance, he and Robert must go and say good night to their son.
Did you miss Chapters 1-118? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 120 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.
Mr. Punch tapped his foot to the music of the pipers and the fiddlers who, without exhaustion, had been playing ceaselessly throughout the ball. He grinned as he watched the staff, and some of the lords and ladies, dancing in circles—hooking their arms together and spinning like the blades of a windmill. Punch paused only occasionally to glance up at the staircase—worried that the sound of the music might keep Colin awake.
“Looks like they’re all havin’ a good time,” Punch whispered in his own voice to Robert who stood next to him, his hand on the small of Punch’s back.
“Indeed.” Robert nodded.
“Look at all of ‘em—dancin’.”
Robert smiled.
“I never danced before.” Punch continued.
“I’ve seen you dance dozens of times, dear Punch.” Robert grinned.
“Well, sure—by me-self, in front of the fire or for Colin. But, them’s just a little jig, they are. All Punchinellos dance a jig now and ‘gain. I ain’t never danced with another person, I mean.”
“It can be quite disorienting.” Robert replied. “One gets dizzy and out of breath and red in the cheeks—all overheated.”
“Lots of things do that to a person.” Punch grinned. “Most of ‘em quite a lark.”
“Oh?” Robert chuckled.
“Sure—like when we go walkin’ or when we’re runnin’ up and down the stairs with Dog Toby.”
Robert laughed. “Ah, I see.” He shook his head. “However, I don’t recall ever running up and down the stairs with Toby.”
“Oh. I do that.” Punch nodded. “Mostly at home. See—them long flights of stairs at No. 65 are best for it. We run all the way up to the attics and down ‘gain.”
“Really?”
“Well, I gotta do somethin’ when you’re out doctorin’ folk. And, I can only sit still and draw for so long before I gotta get up and do somethin’. ‘Sides Dog Toby likes it.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Bet he’d like to dance, too.”
“Dogs don’t dance.” Robert laughed.
“Don’t they?” Punch raised his eyebrows.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Ain’t you never seen Toby when he goes outside? After he does what dogs do, he does a little dance.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way.” Robert smiled. “I suppose he does dance.”
“See?” Punch sighed. “Everybody dancin’ ‘cept me.”
“Do you want to dance, dear Punch?”
“Maybe.” Punch said slyly.
“Well, I’m sure any number of the ladies here would love to dance with the Duke of Fallbridge.”
“I don’t wanna dance with none of them.”
“Why not?”
“Cuz.” Punch frowned. “I wanna dance with you, Chum.”
“Dear Punch,” Robert began.
“I know.” Punch sighed. “Wouldn’t be proper for the two of us to dance.”
“It wouldn’t.” Robert answered softly.
“Even in me own house.” Punch muttered. “With me own companion what I love so very much.”
“Even so, dear Punch, I’ve not danced in many years and I’m not very good at it to begin with. Furthermore, I don’t know any of these Scottish dances.”
“Our friends didn’t neither. But, look at ‘em. They’re all out there.”
“Ethel and Jenny and George are all young. Youth allows us to do a host of things which we wouldn’t do at our age.”
“Look.” Punch nodded. “Charlie and Vi are dancin’. Charlie ain’t so much younger than you. The Lord Dunbrook is dancin’ with Lady Dunbrook and they’re much older than we are. Even Gerry and Gamilla are dancin’, and, if you’ll recall, Chum, Gamilla said it weren’t ‘fit’ for a white man to dance with an African girl. But, there they are.”
“Yes, there they are.”
“Don’t you want to dance with me?”
“Of course I do.” Robert said quickly. “You know I do. It’s just that…”
Punch smiled.
“Damn it all.” Robert snorted. With that, he grabbed Punch by the arm and pulled him to the center of the room. Hooking his arm through Punch’s the two of them began to spin about in time to the music—their kilts fluttering up just enough to show their knees.
Everyone else in the great hall stopped dancing and turned to stare at the two masters of the Grange as they—grinning enormously—swept in a great oval around the floor.
Suddenly, much to Punch’s delight, the revelers began to clap in time to the music, cheering the two men on—all except the Countess Hamish who looked completely horrified by the spectacle.
Dear Mr. Punch was so happy that he almost forgot how concerned he was about Colin. Almost. With each pass and turn, he glanced quickly to the top of the stairs, deciding that when they’d finished their dance, he and Robert must go and say good night to their son.
Did you miss Chapters 1-118? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 120 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.
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