There was a ballroom in House Graef. It was octagonal in shape as according to the trends at the time it was rebuilt from the prior fire. The ceiling was high, a slight arch in the middle to allow a large chandelier made of imported Ellegi glass to hang from it. Were it to be lit up with its hundred lights, it would cast a beautiful array of light across the dance floor, with rainbow edged shards illuminating the walls. But right now it hanged heavily with cobwebs and dust.

The walls were partially covered by thick wallpaper that was a faded shade of light green that on a much closer inspection showed the very faint outlines of sparrows fluttering around. His mother had commissioned the wallpaper specifically for the ballroom; there were formerly tables she had commissioned too, with small golden etching on their edges that would stand against the wall to hold sideboards and other forms of refreshment, and with them too would be accompanying chairs with plush seating of velvet.

Yet the wallpaper was peeling away, some parts of it were being eaten at by mold before they were cut off and burnt. The expensive fine tables and chairs were entirely missing, Theodore had mostly sold them off the moment his mother was hurried off the mortal world because he said he had planned to use the money to have major repairs done for the kitchen and scullery even though he had been informed there was plenty of money for that. What he did not sell, he had given to Motzy who in turn used the table and chairs to form part of her daughter’s dowry.

Theodore was not a very social person by nature, he in fact had never once thrown open the grand doors of the ballroom to allow a glittering array of insipid meat dolls and equally vacuous flesh beaus to wander in and twirl around.

So he had left the doors closed and hardly gone into the room at all. On the rare times he did go to dances, it was either as an enigma or if Bernard had invited him. If it had not been Bernard, he would not have chosen to go at all and simply sent a brief reply with a vague reason as to why he would not come. At least now he had a possible partner he could stand to take the hands of for a dance or three.

Three chairs had been brought from elsewhere in the House into the room, along with a table that now held a few books and a sideboard of food. Chalk outlines had been made upon the ground to provide a guide to the little feet that were to be practicing. A slate had also been made, and Miss Marsh had drawn several figures on it in different poses of a dance with numbers. She sat at one chair, pointing to three of the figures, while Olli sat in another chair staring at the poses with a somewhat listless expression.

Theodore was occupying the third chair, quiet for now as he kept his hands in his lap. There was no music, so the only sounds in the room were from Miss Marsh’s explanations and the low wind outside the windows.

He was being very quiet, mostly observing, but Olli’s sudden heavy sigh roused him from his usual stupor. “What is wrong, Olli?” He asked, sitting up slightly.

“I don’t get it,” she sighed again. “I’m not getting better! Can’t I just stay home?”

“You’ve improved remarkably in three days, Miss Olivia,” said Miss Marsh in her cool voice. Theodore’s gaze rested on her thin face, which despite its sharp angles had remarkably softened. Even when he did not have his spectacles, she was a narrow monochromatic thing, flitting around as a slender blur. Close, yet very distant. “No one can expect to be a dancing master in just three days.”

“Then why do you keep yelling at me?” Olli sulked, “it doesn’t feel like anything I’m doing is right.”

“I am not yelling at you, I am giving you instruction.”

“It is true, Olli, Miss Marsh had not raised her voice once towards you at all today,” Theodore added. “It only sounds loud because this room has an echo.”

“Sir,” Miss Marsh asked, glancing around the room. She had been doing that often, after each form practiced and rest period she had been observing the room. Theodore nodded, and she continued, “if you do not mind me asking, the room is in a state of disrepair. Perhaps we should move these lessons into another room?”

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“Perhaps we should, but unfortunately all the other rooms are cluttered, it would take some time for them to be cleared out. Besides, the floor here is already scuffed, so why not use it? I have no intention of holding a ball any year soon,” he laughed softly.

“Why is this room here anyway?” Olli asked, now curious or perhaps just relieved to have a reprieve from dancing.

“It is a ballroom, it is here for dancing,” Theodore answered.

“You don’t like dancing,” Olli said.

“How do you know this?”

“You’ve sat in the chair every day!” She pointed at it.

Theodore sighed. She was correct. He was not being nearly as instructive as Miss Marsh, who had slightly raised her brows in response to Olli’s impertinence, but was not actually admonishing her for it. He figured she must be sharing, if not the same, then similar thoughts. “Well, if I am on trial may I at least plead my case?” He asked.

Olli shrugged.

“I cannot dance,” Theodore said.

“Why?”

“I am very tired,” he smiled.

“...You are always tired!”

“I did not eat breakfast this morning,” Theodore replied simply, which was a very blatant lie since he had actually eaten with Miss Marsh and Olli.

“With all due respect sir, I do not believe this is very conductive to teaching,” Miss Marsh finally said mildly.

Theodore looked from Olli, then back to Miss Marsh. The stern coolness of her face was a contrast to how she looked when he first met her, where there was a bit of pink to her cheeks and a look of nervousness hidden underneath a desperate mask of being placid and fettered. He rose to his feet slowly, offering his hand to Miss Marsh. “Then I will be a more active participant in these lessons then, Miss Marsh, it would not trouble you terribly to take me as a partner?”

Miss Marsh was quiet for a moment. Her face was still pale and pinched, but there was a slight hint of color on her throat under the neck of her dress. “You may,” she said, her words now with the shadow of awkward feeling in them. “Thank you for offering your aid, sir.”

“I am happy to help you both,” Theodore replied as they both moved to the first chalk mark. Holding her hand, he slipped the other one onto her waist. He only touched it softly, a more proper grip would be entirely too rude and suggest a low opinion of her virtue. Miss Marsh, stiff by nature, stiffened even more then, and her hand felt clammy. But he followed her in the steps. Slowly, carefully, resting most of her weight on one leg, they moved through all six forms.

She quickly dropped his hand, and took a step away as soon as they had finished to look over at Olli. “Did you observe us?”

Olli nodded.

“Is it more understandable?” Theodore further inquired.

“I think so,” she muttered, looking around the room. Theodore briefly followed her gaze, but found nothing that could attract a child’s attention.

“Olli, come here, I can be your partner as we practice,” Theodore encouraged, now offering her his hand. Olli furrowed her brows a little, then she got down from her chair to take his hand. In contrast to Miss Marsh, it was small and rounded. They went together to the first chalk mark. “Miss Marsh?”

“You may begin when ready. It may be harder to practice though without the music, sir, but I will keep time for you.”

Theodore glanced over to her. She was still standing in the spot she had retreated to, her hands demurely held together. “Do you play piano well?”

“Better than I can dance, sir.”

“Then I will see to having a pianoforte moved here,” he then turned his attention back to Olli. “Are you ready?”

“I guess so,” Olli muttered, her eyes wandering to somewhere else.

Miss Marsh, using a small rod she had been using to mark positions or point to wrong steps, began tapping it against the table rhythmically. “Begin.”