Darcy stood me up

So earlier tonight (well, technically yesterday) I attended an English country dance as part of the Jane Austen class I'm auditing this semester. My professor brought a professional caller in from Rochester along with a violinist and bassist to play little ditties for us to dance to in the college ballroom. With the exception of a few complicated steps resulting in minor collisions and major giggling fits, it really was just like the movies (minus Colin Firth, unfortunately). Some of the dances we learned were pretty sexy; a few steps required holding your gaze with your partner for quite a while and most involved flirtations with men or women other than the person you were paired with. It was far more intriguing than anything we young whippersnappers are shakin' to these days, I'll tell you that. Ninety percent of the class wore everyday clothes, but two of my friends borrowed dresses from Elizabeth Bennett's closet and looked completely fabulous. I didn't have time to get anything together beforehand so instead I took the route of an English country gent for the evening and went to the dance with a lovely lady on each arm. I don't recall Mr. Darcy ever arriving with two dates . . . hah!