Moon Dancer

Coffee Break Tale

Hannah couldn’t look at her new husband who sat on the opposite side of the carriage. He had smiled at her as she had pledged her faith during the marriage vows, but inside she had felt cold. Almost as if she was coming down with a fever.

“You need the wildness knocked out of you,” her papa had said, smiling with indulgence. “No more prancing about like some filly on the moors.”

The moors were now crossed by a new railway line that her husband, Benjamin, had helped to build.

“They lack the proper pedigree,” her papa would say of anyone had who had made their money from industry or trade. But her papa’s gambling debts had diminished her chances of making what he called a suitable match.

Hannah didn’t care about a suitable match, but she did care about love. And her husband was a stranger to her.

“We will reach Heather Hall in about two hours,” Benjamin said.

He leaned forward and looked at her. Hannah couldn’t return his gaze. When she’d first seen him, she had thought him uncouth, but he seemed eager to please.

She supposed the family name would do that. By marrying her he would gain standing in the community.

“Hannah, do I displease you so much?”

Hannah listened to the clip of the horses’ hooves before forcing herself to look at him. It was not his fault that her father had reduced them to penury. But as a devoted reader of the romances of Sir Walter Scott, she couldn’t quite cast Benjamin in the role of a dashing hero.

“No – it’s just that I feel ill-equipped to be an obedient and loving wife and I fear that I may displease you.”

Benjamin reached out and her hand disappeared inside his. It was not the hand of some of the beaux who had sought her favour – until they discovered the precariousness of her father’s affairs.

“You, displease me? Oh, my love, it is I who feel ill-equipped to be an attentive and loving husband. But we can learn together.”

Hannah looked into his eyes and was surprised at the raw sincerity in them. She looked away, flustered. It was dark now, giving the carriage an intimacy.

She thought of her friend, Betsy. Once they had run wild together, flouting the restrictions placed upon their sex. Then Betsy had got married and the Betsy she knew had disappeared. She had become a mouse, silent in her husband’s company. Marriage, she knew, could be lonely.

Hannah, look at the moon.” It was a full moon. Once, Hannah had sneaked out of the house to dance under it like some pagan goddess. The memory was so fresh that it hurt.

Benjamin rapped on the carriage roof with his cane.

“Driver, stop!”

He helped her to alight from the carriage. The air was raw with frost underfoot. The moon was huge. Hannah couldn’t take her eyes off it.

They stood there in silence as the coachman fidgeted and the horses blew out their breath. Then Benjamin spoke.

“The last time I noticed a moon like that, I saw a nymph dance under it. She completely stole my heart.”

Benjamin saw her dancing under the moon! For the last year, only creditors had been regular nightly visitors. But she hadn’t thought she had been so careless as to be seen.

“You saw me,” she whispered.

“I did,” he said and cleared his throat, “and I like to think I had a glimpse of the real you. I intended to tell you sooner but I confess, your self-possession unmanned me. Forgive me my duplicity.”

Hannah turned to him then and saw not the uncouth man – or as her papa would say, the nouveau riche upstart – but a man vulnerable and kind, who had some regard for her. Maybe even love.

“There is nothing to forgive, Benjamin,” she said softly, and in spite of the night air, she felt a warmth spreading through her.

“I have a present for you,” he said.

By the light of the carriage lamp, Hannah opened the jewellery box and took out a moonstone.

A tear slid down her cheek.

‘It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she said and then stood on tiptoe to give Benjamin her first loving kiss.