Pas De Deux

Part 5

Three weeks had passed since their stroll in Covent Garden which, in social season time, equated to approximately three months and meant all the mamas had moved up to the next level and were actively pressing their son or daughter to lock in a marriage.

This meant the Residence was now as busy as the fashion Boutique on a Wednesday afternoon. The past week had been nothing but a succession of bachelors carrying flowers, chocolates and other presents to spend fifteen privileged minutes in Yelena's company.

And that day Natasha was assigned to the tedious chaperoning duty as Melina had gone out with one of the maids to run some errands. Yelena had been set on the sofa like the daintiest painting whilst she sat on the chair by the window, revising music partitions. It was her mental practice for dancing when she could not rehearse physically. She would visualise the sequences of steps and moves as she read the notes in her head.

The visits all unfolded the same routinely way: the valet stepped into the room, announced the next guest, then a bachelor (either very young or appallingly too old) entered carrying a gift of his choosing. He bowed at Yelena with a more or less awkward smile, then glanced over his shoulder and quickly flip to greet her as well. Next, he handed Yelena the present, which she received with the same consistent smile before inviting the gentleman to sit. Of course, he would sit on the sofa across from her for obvious proper reasons. All the conversations, regardless of their age or social ranking, revolved around her leisure activities, the topics she had studied, her skills and her expectations in marriage. When more and more pauses would pile up, or when silence settled for an uncomfortably lengthy period of time, the gentleman got up, thanked Yelena for her company just as awkwardly as he had greeted her, bowed again at her then at Natasha before walking out of the room.

As some of those gentlemen's uncoordinated body movements or preposterous questions called for mockery, Natasha would chime in the gallant discussion with facial reactions, big hand motions, farcical miming and grotesque impersonations in the most indetectable silence. She also had a talent for halting instantaneously and reading with utmost composure if the bachelor happened to notice Yelena's distracted attention and follow her glances.

Her young sister's face was now noticeably flushing red as she tried her best to contain her raging hilarity at Natasha miming a desperate attempt at climbing over the edge of the window and jumping due to the current bachelor's lengthy and monotonous reading of verses.

A loud snort eventually slipped between her lips just when the bachelor was reading the last few words, which incidentally referred to death.

She pinched her lips. "My apologies, Sir. It was a most lovely poem. Thank you."

The man, hurt in his most fragile part, his ego, got up stiffly and disappeared out of the room after curt greetings. Yelena could no longer hold it back and plopped down completely, as she muffled her laughter against the cushion. Melina had just walked in and witnessed the entire scene. She gasped and closed the door behind her.

"I can't believe what I'm seeing!" she exclaimed as Yelena sat right back at her and elegantly straightened up her dress, returning to the initial painting-like posture her mother had left her in before leaving the house. "This is such inappropriate behaviour, lady", she began to scold.

Yelena's face fell. "Mama, I simply refuse to be chastised alone," she whined. "Natasha wouldn't stop distracting me."

Melina turned to Natasha with hands on each side of her waist. "What was I thinking leaving you two together?" she started as she chased her older daughter out of the room. "Go for a walk and give those poor gentlemen respite."

She would have called Yelena a traitor on her way but she was actually too pleased to have been released of her duty. "I hope you marry Lord Bickens," she said to her sister on her way out with a mischievous snort.