In which we serialize Society Patroness Rachel Hyland’s first book in her Reading Heyer series, Reading Heyer: The Black Moth. Called “delicious” by Heyer expert Jennifer Kloester, it is a reading guide, critique and loving homage all in one. But mostly, it’s just a lot of fun. We hope you enjoy. Check back every Sunday for another installment, or buy the book here.
CHAPTER XIII: MY LORD MAKES HIS BOW
Cut to a week later, and our Jack is ready to leave his sickroom for the first time since he heroically saved Diana from a fate worse than death. He deliberates over his wardrobe tiresomely (having “conceived a dislike–nay, a veritable hatred–for puce”… which, fair enough. You know what that word means? “Flea-colored.” Lovely.), but at last is ready to make the promised bow.
First, he makes one to Diana’s father, the bookish Mr. Beauleigh, and then he directs another at the young lady herself – with whom he is, naturally, already utterly smitten. Spinster Aunt Betty is also to hand, and it isn’t long before the happy trio are seated in the garden, sorting embroidery silks – Jack proves himself adept at telling even the most infinitesimally-different shades of red apart; Georgian men were just so Renaissance – with Jack and Diana (Mellencamp was a Heyer fan?) dropping immediately into a kind of fun, flirtatious patter that proves Di to be more than a match for my lord’s ready wit. She demands to know why her rescuer referred to “Mr. Everard” as “M. le Duc,” produces the sword Jack claimed from him and points out that not only is it is adorned by a coronet but is also Bedazzled with real jewels. (No wonder Tracy has to keep borrowing money from Dick. What a spendthrift!) Anxious to keep Belmanoir’s real identity a secret – for what reason I know not; the potential scandal attaching to her name, perhaps – he thwarts her every inquiry, and when Miles arrives for yet another visit (he should just move in), he likewise conspires to keep the Duke’s name unknown. Neither of them lie, exactly, they’re just really sneaky with the truth. It’s cute.
Also in here we meet Jack’s competition for Diana’s charms, the local Squire, one Mr. Bettison. Young, proprietary, pompous and not a little put out to see another man making eyes at his would-be ladylove, Bettison is clearly not a favorite with either the object of his affection nor her chaperone, and is therefore not someone we need bother with too much for the moment.
Oh, and at one point in this chapter Jack tells Miss Betty that he is a highwayman, but she doesn’t believe a word of it.
Probably because of his white hands.
THOUGHTS
In addition to “Zounds!,” you know what else I’d love to have come back? Hand-kissing. It’s just so… charming. Weirdly intimate, and yet formal at the same time:
“I am delighted to make Miss Beauleigh’s acquaintance,” said John, and raised her hand to his lips.
The delicate, tapering fingers trembled a little in his hold, and tremulous lips parted in the shyest and most adorable smile that he had ever seen.
Indeed, kissing is such a strange way of greeting a new acquaintance, isn’t it? It’s just so… familiar. Yet often we do it as a matter of course. On the cheek. Once, to paraphrase Marilyn Monroe, a kiss on the hand was considered quite Continental, but now in Europe the norm is to kiss a new acquaintance on both cheeks in that familiar “mwah, mwah” greeting you see in terribly chic restaurants. It is an act that brings you up close and personal to another person and should therefore feel like something real, but instead it is a casual act robbed of all personal significance through ceaseless repetition. A French friend of mine once explained to me that he will always kiss female acquaintances on both cheeks; he’ll give a single kiss only to his mother and his girlfriend; and if he is ever called upon to shake a woman’s hand it just feels… wrong.
Yet once, to dare to kiss a lady on the cheek would have been tantamount to declaring your intention to marry her (or so Heyer and her Trad Regency ilk would have us believe… and they’re probably right, unless Jane Austen lied to us, too), but a kiss on the hand was a perfectly acceptable way of saying “Hi, how you doin’?”.
It’s odd that nowadays, a kiss on the hand has become so much more impactful than a mere salutation on the cheek. Think about it. When was the last time someone kissed your hand? It is a lover’s kiss, a best-friend’s kiss, a parent’s kiss. And rarely, if ever, is it accompanied by a bow. That’s a shame, I think. Bring back the hand-kiss, I say! Bring it back, and let us do away with these meaningless “mwah”s, reserving such special attentions for only our nearest and dearest.
I mean, really. Zounds, even!
I wonder if Jack will soon get to the kiss-on-the-cheek stage with the lovely Diana? Just how will this little ditty play out? Will they maybe run off behind a shady tree? (Okay, alright, I’m done with the “Jack and Diane” references. But… it’s just so darn cute! Anyway…) Let us proceed to Chapter XIV, and we shall see what we shall see…
New chapters of Reading Heyer: The Black Moth will be posted here at Heyer Society each Sunday. Or buy it here.
