Waltzing with the Courfeyrac Method
Gen, 1300 words, Regency au
“Waltzing? But I’ve never been to London… And I don’t think I am ever going to. And Grandfather said some awful things about the patrons of Almack’s, so I am not quite sure whether I should…”
Marius looked at Courfeyrac, who had been languishing with a tormented expression born of boredom, but had jumped up at the idea of dancing.
“Marius! Dancing is fun! And even if you never go to London, half the new dances include at least a few waltz steps. You wouldn’t want to disgrace me at my next ball, would you?”
Marius took in his friend’s beseeching expression and felt his resolve crumble as it always did when Courfeyrac started wheedling him.
“Oh very well… but only as much as is required to not disgrace myself or my family honour, and I reserve the right not to dance anyway.”
He straightened his sober black coat, reaching for some dignity and control. Courfeyrac, always the first to throw dignity to the wind, was taking his own coat off. Before Marius could object, the bright blue garment hung over the armchair, lace carefully smoothed down to prevent creases. Uncertain whether he ought to follow Courfeyrac’s improprietous example, Marius fiddled with the top button of his coat. Madame de Courfeyrac had left to speak with cook a while ago and she could return at any moment. Of course, whenever she and cook saw the opportunity they started a prolonged and very French row, which could take at least an hour and span the entirety of French history, English diplomacy, the current affreux weather and next week’s dinner menu.
“Marius my friend, this will be much more pleasant without that stiff coat. No one could object to it!”
“Grandfather would,” replied Marius miserably.
“All the better,” said Courfeyrac, who had a lot of choice words he longed to speak to that unpleasant personage. “We will rebel silently and he will never know.”