Don Gutteridge - The Widow's Demise

When the dance was over, Macy trailed afterDelores and stood beside her in an alcove near the dais, where theorchestra continued to play.

“You’re a hard person to get alone,” Macysaid.

“We’re hardly alone, Horace. There’s ahundred other people in the room,” Delores said lightly.

“Alone enough for me to say what I have tosay.”

Delores looked coy. “And what weighty wordshave you for me?”

“I didn’t like the way you were dancing withLionel Trueman.”

“But Lionel and I are merely goodfriends.”

“It looked more than that to me.”

“You worry too much, darling.”

“You know I’m mad about you.”

“I have become aware of that, yes.” Shesmiled and batted her long lashes at him.

“You don’t take me seriously.”

“How could I not?”

“I want you for my wife, you know that.”

“You mustn’t think of marriage so soon afteryour wife’s death.”

“But it’s been a year and a half.”

“That long?”

“You must marry me.”

“But I told you right from the start that onemarriage was enough for me. I’m no longer the marrying kind.”

“Then why do you lead me on?” A pathetic,pleading tone had crept into Macy’s voice. The orchestra besidethem struck up a fresh tune.

“I like your company, and you enjoy mine. Whycan’t we leave it at that?”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not aman.”

“Thank God for that,” Delores said, laughing.“Now I really must see to my duties as hostess. You’ve monopolizedenough of my time.”

“You’ll dance with me later?”

“We’ll see,” she said, and waltzed away.

***

Beth and Louis returned from their dance.

“You cut a fine figure,” Marc said toLouis.

“I danced a lot in my youth,” Louis said.Before all our troubles began.”

“One should always make time for dancin’,”Beth said. She turned to Gilles Gagnon. “Do you dance, Gilles?”

“A very little, I’m afraid,” Gagnon said.

“My word,” Robert said. “Here comes ourhostess.”

Delores Cardiff-Jones was moving withdeliberate steps across the ballroom towards them.

“Messieurs Gagnon and LaFontaine,” she said,coming right up to them, “a very cordial welcome to our littlefête.” She spoke in flawless French. “I was delighted to see youdancing, Monsieur LaFontaine. Would you consider it bold of me if Iwere to ask Monsieur Gagnon here to take a turn with me on thefloor? I would be so honoured.”

Gagnon actually blushed. “How could I refusesuch a gracious hostess,” he said in a vain attempt to disguise hisdoubts. He reached out and took her hand. They moved into a setthat was preparing for a reel.

“This may be a first,” Louis said. “GillesGagnon dancing.”

“Our hostess is a very persuasive woman,”Marc said.

Marc, Beth and Robert watched with bemuseddetachment as Delores and Gagnon stepped into the reel.

“Well, it is a French-Canadian tune,”Louis said.

“I do hope you’re beginning to feel somewhatat home here,” Robert said to Louis.

“People have been most kind,” Louis said,“considering all that’s happened between our two peoples.”

“They’ll be less kind once the electioncampaign begins, I’m afraid,” Marc said.

“I’m anxious for it to begin,” Louissaid.

“My, look at Gilles go!” Beth said.

They turned their attention to the reel whereDelores and Gagnon were spinning about, arms enlinked, a sheen ofsweat on their cheeks, their eyes alive with the thrill of thedance.

“Gilles has found himself a partner,” Marcobserved.

“It’s good for him,” Louis said. “He’s beenstuck too close to me for too long.”

The dance ended. Gagnon bowed deeply toDelores. Their eyes met, and locked. Gagnon led her back to herfather, who was presiding at the head of the room. They exchangedwords, then went over to the drinks table. Marc noticed LionelTrueman nearby, stiff and trembling with some deep emotion. Hiseyes never left Delores across the room.

***

The last dance before the food was to be served wasadvertised as a waltz, the relatively new and daring form of dancewhere the partners actually touched, hand to hip, and whirled inunison about the periphery of the floor. Both Lionel Trueman andMacy went up to Delores, and were politely rebuffed. Instead, shewalked towards the curtain that walled off the powder room andpaused beside a man who was standing there and who had beenwatching her cross the floor. He was a darkly handsome man ofmiddle age, with brown eyes and black hair and a distinguishedbearing. A woman, who may have been his wife, was seated a littleways behind him.

Delores said something to the man, and hetook her hand. The woman, from her chair, offered a protest.

“I can’t refuse our hostess,” the man said,and followed Delores out onto the dance floor.

“Who is that about to waltz with ourhostess?” Marc said.

“That’s Cecil Denfield,” Robert said. “He’s alawyer in town. That’s his wife Audrey, sitting over there besidethe curtain.”

“She doesn’t look too happy,” Beth said.

“Our hostess doesn’t take no for an answer,”Gagnon said.

They watched as Delores and Cecil Denfieldwaltzed about the room. Denfield was a superb dancer. He stoodstraight and tall, his left hand holding Delores’s right hand witha balletic touch, while his right hand rested effortlessly upon herhip. And yet there was no doubt that they were severely conjoined -by the insistent, irregular beat of the music and their bodies’synchronized harmonies. Their gaze was mutual and unwavering.

The music and the motion of the dancers wasrudely interrupted by the sound of a chair striking the floor,followed by the shattering of a glass. Beth was the first person onthe scene. Audrey Denfield had fainted and fallen to the floor,toppling her chair and breaking her champagne glass. She lay in atangled heap.

Beth knelt down, careful to avoid the brokenglass, and raised Audrey’s head. Beth began to fan her, whileothers now came up and crowded around. Someone produced a vial ofsmelling salts. Beth held it under Audrey’s nose. She coughed andopened her eyes.

“Please, clear that glass away,” Beth said.By this time a servant had arrived and bent down to remove theglass, which had broken into several large pieces.

“Are you all right, my darling?” CecilDenfield said, making his way through the throng.

“I – I think so,” Audrey said.

Beth was moving Audrey’s arms carefully, anddecided that nothing had been broken. “Can you stand?” shesaid.

“I feel very wobbly,” Audrey said. She lookedup at her husband. “Please, take me home, Cecil.”

Denfield, with Beth’s assistance, got hiswife to her feet.

“I’ll call for our carriage, darling.”

“Please do.”

To the buzzing of the crowd, who were morethan curious about the lady’s motive for fainting, Denfield led hisunsteady wife towards the foyer. By now Humphrey Cardiff and hisdaughter had arrived on the scene to offer their condolences.Audrey did not look pleased to receive them.

***

Marc and his party left the ball about one o’clock.The dancing, for the young and inexhaustible, would go on foranother hour. Marc and Beth said goodnight to Robert, Louis andGagnon, and headed home. A brilliant harvest moon lit up thestorefronts along fashionable King Street.

“Well, you got through a whole evenin’without talkin’ politics,” Beth said, leaning against Marc’sshoulder.

“Almost,” Marc said. “I must confess thatGilles and I did discuss the campaign for a minute or two while youwere dancing with Louis.”

“Shame on you.”

“But you did enjoy yourself, didn’t you, eventhough you were determined not to?”