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The problem with any assembly, and especially a ball, is that eventually Phoebe finds them overwhelming. There is simply too much going on: too many bright lamps, too many musicians playing constant, too many people in their finery glittery and gauzy. It is all wonderful to look at when she first arrives. And then at some point something happens to her, something overtakes her heartbeat and the way the shadows in the corners of her eyes creep close.
She always clams up then. It’s the only thing to be done. To say nothing and to count her breaths and to think of being somewhere quiet and dark.
Phoebe is starting to feel better at the end of this particular spell when she lifts her gaze and meets the eyes of Danielle Howell. She isn’t sure at all how long Dani could have been watching her. She feels her cheeks burn red and would blame the warmth of the room if anyone else were paying attention to her. But no one is. As has happened often lately, Dani alone sees Phoebe for who she is.
Speaking for the first time in a while, Phoebe says, “I think I will take some air.” The women in the circle around her hum their notice.
Outside the night air is cool and the effect is immediate— Phoebe feels so much better. She breathes deep and looks up at what she can see of the stars in the London sky. Coming into town for the season is always many small sacrifices, including the stars she leaves behind from Rossendale.
She hears the clack of heels behind her and turns around. Dani has joined her outside.
“Hello,” she says, giving a small wave of her hand. “I was not sure if you wanted to be alone.”
Phoebe looks her over here, in the light of the balcony. Dani is wearing a dress that perfectly matches the Japanese maple growing by the door. It makes the rosy patch by her chin look all the more aflame. She remembers how Dani once confided in her that she would wear nothing but black dresses every day if it weren’t for the rules of mourning, and is about to tease her about it when Dani speaks again.
“That blue is lovely,” Dani says, a little too polite, gesturing to Phoebe’s own dress. It is a new one, a beaded and velvet piece; there are so many different textures out there, and Phoebe has only just become brave enough to try them.
“Thank you,” Phoebe says, patting the gentle velvet. She looks around. She hasn’t been alone with Dani in ages. Not since… well. Not since that day in the library when they held each other so close and—
“Are you seriously trying to make me jealous?” Dani asks suddenly, her nervously polite tone vanishing.
Phoebe, still a little lost in thoughts of last time, of the tastes and touches, looks at Dani and asks, “What?”
Dani steps closer, into the shadow and safety of the night and further away from the brightness of the hall. “Dancing with him, the gentleman from Prague. Just as soon as I had arrived.”
It takes a moment for the implications to add up in Phoebe’s mind. For of course, she does not care for the gentleman from Prague. But she is quite intrigued to find that Dani cares whether or not Phoebe might.
“Well,” she asks, “are you? Jealous?”
Dani places her hands on her hips. Her eyes linger on Phoebe’s lips. “Dance with me,” she says.
It makes Phoebe laugh. She looks around one more time, and sees Dani doing the same, but they are quite alone. The sound of music from the ball is drifting out to them here, and they can hold each other close in this way even if not in another.
Their legs can shuffle and jaunt together even if they cannot slot between for thighs to provide delicious perch. Their hands can fold into each other’s even if they cannot be madly gripping at bodices. Their lips can coolly smile as they dance even if they cannot come together as everything possible is screaming at them to do.
They can dance together, scandal enough should they be caught, and both play over in their minds the greater scandal they have committed together.
When the dance brings them close enough for a whisper, Phoebe assures Dani, “You have nothing, ever, to be jealous of.”
Their dance ends. They are out of breath. Dani checks their surroundings yet again, and moves to place a hurried kiss upon Phoebe’s lips. Hurried, needed, craved. They are breathing heavier still.
“There must be a library here,” Phoebe whispers. “Surely we could explore it.”
“Surely I’ll explore you,” Dani smiles eagerly.