Southampton
"One, two, three. One, two, three," Mildred Westmoreland counted as she traced Meg's steps around the room. "Good, now remember to hold your arm up. It must be stiff. That's it."
The sound of cheerfulness in her mother's voice was not only surprising but refreshing. Ever since her mother had decided that she would teach Meg to dance herself a few months ago, they'd spent quite a bit of time together each afternoon. Though Ms. Strickland had insisted that she knew all of the dances Meg was sure to encounter once she began attending balls on a regular basis, Mrs. Westmoreland had been appalled at the poor quality of her instruction and had taken over the duty almost immediately. She had explained to her daughter that very afternoon, "As a young lady, I was renowned for my danci
