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party tonight….”
    It was whispered among the women of New York that Henry always had the band paid off in advance, because they frequently struck up a waltz just precisely when he needed to end a conversation. The band began playing now, and Henry gave a gentle nod in Penelope’s direction. She could not stop the corner of her mouth from twitching, smile-like, for a moment. He kept his intense gaze fixed on her as he began walking her backward into the room until they were waltzing.
    For a moment the crowd just watched, dazzled by the lightness of the couple moving across the floor. But Penelope was very good at arousing jealousy, and her cousins and friends were not very good at standing still when they were jealous. Soon other, less bright couples began dancing, too, so that the gleaming pattern of the marble floor was blotted out by the bright swinging skirts of the girls and the nimble black feet of their partners.
    There were plenty of eyes still on the flamenco dancer and the dandy in tails; Penelope knew how much she was watched, so she spoke quietly as they moved. “Why did you send me that note?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as they turned.
    “I like teasing you,” he answered. “This way, I knew you’d be especially grateful to see me.”
    Penelope considered this for a moment, but there was something in his lively, deep brown eyes that told her he was lying, just a little bit. “You were someplace else before you came here, weren’t you?”
    “Now, what would make you think a thing like that?” he replied with unwavering amusement. “I’ve been looking forward to this precise moment all day.”
    “You lie very well,” she told him. “But I knew you wouldn’t stay away.”
    Henry stared at her carelessly and did not answer. He just pressed his hand into her skirt, somewhat lower than the small of her back, and kept moving her through the crowd. She felt in that moment as though they were a known item, and that all those lesser girls were already crying into their hankies at the thought of Henry William Schoonmaker being married. The music seemed to be playing triumphantly and just for her. She could have gone on like this forever. She might have, too, had not the large, whiskery figure of Henry’s father appeared over his shoulder and pulled him out of the dance.
    “Pardon me, Miss Hayes,” the elder Mr. Schoonmaker said in a voice that was level but devoid of apology. The rest of the dancers kept moving, but Penelope found herself horribly stalled in the center of everything, her great performancecurtailed by this large, odious parental presence. She felt a fit coming on but somehow managed to contain it. The other dancers were pretending not to notice what was going on, but they were all terrible fakers. Penelope wondered if Elizabeth was out there watching. She had wanted to reveal her secret relationship to her friend with maximum drama, and this exchange wasn’t helping anything. “I am going to have to borrow Henry for the rest of the night. It’s quite urgent, and we must leave immediately, I’m afraid.”
    Instinct made Penelope smile even through her misery, and she tipped her head. “Of course,” she answered. Then she watched, alone, from the middle of that epic room, as her future husband disappeared amongst all those ordinary bodies. Penelope knew, despite the still-dancing masses, that for her the party was over.

Four
    THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT I, WILLIAM SACKHOUSE SCHOONMAKER, DO LEAVE ALL MY WORLDLY POSSESSIONS, AS ITEMIZED BELOW, INCLUDING ALL HOLDINGS RELATING TO BUSINESS, REAL ESTATE, AND PERSONAL PROPERTY,
TO _______________.

H ENRY SCHOONMAKER PRETENDED TO STUDY THE piece of paper for another moment, and then he did what he always did when he found something too serious or too boring to bother trying to comprehend. He spread his long thin lips back from his perfectly white teeth and laughed.
    “Awful morbid, Dad,” he said. “We left a party for