“I was, but I have recovered completely. I nolonger have a limp.”
“That’s too bad. I always think a man with alimp is more mysterious.”
“But I’m a barrister now,” Marc said.
“And a Reformer, I’m told,” Delores said witha mischievous grin.
“That, too.”
“Well, all are welcome here tonight,” shesaid, and stepped back a pace. She smiled. “I’m just imagining youin your uniform.”
“You’re holding up the line, my dear,”Cardiff said stiffly.
“We must dance later,” Delores said, lettingMarc and Beth pass into the ballroom.
The ballroom was already half-full. Moonlightpoured in through the tall, Gothic windows on the south and eastwalls, and competed with the three chandeliers and wall-sconces. Inthe glittering, flickering light moved ladies in resplendent gownsno more than a year out of fashion, led by men in formal blacksuits and polished shoes. From a dais at the far end poured thegentle strains of violins and cellos, produced by Toronto’s finestorchestra, hired especially for the occasion.
The Charity Ball was ready to begin.
***
In the first set, Marc and Beth found themselvesface to face with Delores Cardiff-Jones and her partner. Marcrecognized him as Lionel Trueman, a stalwart member of the FamilyCompact who had a patronage appointment in the Customs Departmentthat netted him only a small, steady income, but nonetheless gavehim access to the corridors of power and influence. He was arail-thin man with slicked-down hair, pop-eyes and a razor-sharpmoustache. He had gripped Delores’s hand firmly, as if it mightescape his grasp at any moment. She stared straight ahead at Marc.The dance began and they moved through its intricate figures. Marcnoticed that Trueman barely touched hands with the other women inthe set, but took every opportunity to squeeze Delores’s hand andtwirl her forcefully. She gave no indication that she had invitedor was tolerating his aggressive behaviour. However, she did giveMarc’s fingers and extra tug whenever they met.
When the dance was over, Trueman and Deloresstrolled over to the drinks table.
“Champagne?” Trueman said.
“Half a glass, Lionel.” Delores said.
“You are very cruel to keep me waiting,”Trueman said as he handed her a glass of champagne.
“Waiting? Whatever for?”
“You know perfectly well what for. I’ve allbut begged you to marry me.”
“Oh, that.”
“Of course that. Did you think I’d forgetabout it?”
“You are a sweet man, Lionel, but I have noanswer yes or no. I’m just not interested in marriage, period. I’vetold you often enough.”
“But we get on so well – ”
“Of course we do. That’s why I seek yourcompany.”
“But surely you must know a man’s intentions,if honourable, are always directed at marriage. What will peoplethink otherwise?”
“People will think the worst of us. That’sunfortunate but true. Let them talk. I have my home here and allthe income I’ll ever need. And you make me happy.”
“At least let me dance with you againtonight.”
Delores smiled. “Well, my dance-card is quitefull, but if you’re a good boy and agree not to squeeze my hand asif it were an orange, we’ll see.”
“But it’s your ball – ”
“And as hostess I’m expected to mix with thecompany and dance with whoever wishes me to. And I must tend tothose duties now.”
With that she walked away and left Truemanstanding rigid and forlorn.
***
It was ten o’clock when Louis LaFontaine and GillesGagnon entered the ballroom unannounced. However, they were quicklyspotted by their host, Humphrey Cardiff, who trundelled over togreet them.
“Welcome, Monsieur LaFontaine,” Cardiff said,putting out his hand.
“Thank you for inviting us,” Louis said.“We’re not always so welcome among Tories.”
“Tonight there are no politics, only a ballfor charitable purposes.”
“We are pleased to be here,” said Gagnon,feeling awkward because his English, although quite good andimproving daily, was not as fluent as he would have wished.
Whereas Louis LaFontaine was very tall andcourtly and authoritative, his associate, Gilles Gagnon, was shortand red-cheeked, as if he had just stepped off the farm. But hisappearance belied a shrewd and able strategist and advisor topoliticians. He and Louis were inseparable.
“I understand your name will be put forwardin nomination for the by-election in the Fourth Riding of York,”Cardiff said affably to Louis.
“You have heard correctly,” Louis said. “Andwe hear that you will be one of the nominators for Mr. ArthurDingman of the Tory persuasion.”
“I deem it an honour. Mr. Dingman is arespected member of Toronto society.”
“And will be a worthy opponent,” Louis saidgraciously.
“May the best man win,” said Cardiff. “Now,please help yourself to the champagne. The food will be served atmidnight.”
Louis and Gagnon brought their drinks over towhere Beth and Marc were standing on the sidelines. A brisk lancerswas being danced on the floor of the ballroom.
“Not dancing?” Louis smiled at Marc as hebowed to Beth.
“This is the first one we’ve sat out,” Marcsaid.
“He’s not as young as he used to be,” Bethsaid.
“None of us is,” Louis said.
“Would you do me the honour of the nextdance?” Beth said to Louis.
“It will be my honour,” Louis said.
While Louis and Beth were dancing, Marc brokehis promise by talking over the upcoming nomination meeting withGilles Gagnon, who was acting as chief organizer. Moments laterRobert Baldwin came over and joined the conversation. FrancisHincks was dancing with his wife. Robert’s wife had died five yearsbefore and he had not married again, nor did he plan to. Heworshipped the memory of his Elizabeth, and that was enough.
“You will start off the nominations?” Gagnonsaid to Robert.
“Yes, I’d love to. But I’d like to go over myspeech with you and Louis beforehand,” Robert said. “It’s a boldmove to bring a French-speaking Quebecer into an English-speakingriding, as we are, and none of us knows quite how we ought to makeour pitch.”
“At least it’s a rural riding,” Gagnon said.“Lots of these farmers were sympathetic with the Rebellion, weren’tthey?”
“Some of them were in it,” Marc said.
“I won the riding with a large majority,”Robert said. “We should have no trouble.”
“That’s what Louis and I thought atTerrebonne last April, but we didn’t allow for the savagery of thedirty tricks that were played on us,” Gagnon said grimly.
“I doubt that that will be repeated here,”Robert said. “Humphrey Cardiff is running Dingman’s campaign, and Ithink we can count on him to fight fairly.”
“Then you haven’t heard?” Marc said.
“Heard what?”
“That Cardiff has enlisted the help of D’ArcyRutherford,” Marc said.
“No, I didn’t know that,” Robert said. “Thatis not good news.”
“Who is D’Arcy Rutherford?” Gagnon said.
“An organizer with a reputation for dirtytricks,” Marc said.
“Well, we saw every trick in the book inTerrebonne,” Gagnon said. “Road blocks, goon squads around thepolling station, outright bribes, visits to farmsteads tointimidate – the whole works. We have to be prepared for them thistime out.”
“We’ll have a strategy meeting at BaldwinHouse tomorrow at eleven, shall we?” Robert said.
“Good idea,” Gagnon said.
The men now turned to watch Louis and Bethdance. Marc noted that Dolores was in the set once more. This time,however, she was not with Lionel Trueman but adistinguished-looking gentleman Marc recognized as Horace Macy, alocal chemist whose business had fallen on hard times of late. Hewas a short man with a posture designed to add height and authorityto his demeanour. He was looking up at Delores with calf’s eyes.Delores did not return his worshipping gaze.
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.