Ok, folks, hear me out: (country) dance scenes in novels and period dramas, particularly 18th/early 19th century, miss so many opportunities.
I mean, some have a certain level of authenticity to be sure and the dancing looks great, but there's so much more to dancing than the aesthetically pleasing coordination of several people.
For starters, there is so much hand-holding involved. And eye-contact. Eye-contact galore. Sometimes end up with a partner you don't really know and have never spoken to, but you just harmonise perfectly on the dance floor. And for authors of couples that aren't straight, there are many figures in which the women and/or men of a set dance among themselves- so your romantic couple of lissome ladies or dashing dukes can absolutely have a moment on the dance floor holding hands, even if the social norms of the day dictate they can't officially dance together as a (romantic) couple.
But, what really gobsmacks me is how those pretty melodies the gentlemen in white stockings and ladies in muslin-dresses always end up dancing to are never named. ...And some titles are just... something else.
Here are some of my favourites:
Imagine some Regency teens huddled close to the DJ (aka the harpsichord/piano-person), asking them to play Hey ding a ding and they don't seem to know it, to which one of the youngsters tries to explain what tune they mean not by humming it, but by singing the melody to the words of "Hey ding a ding" with their friends either enthusiastically joining in, or shrinking back in embarrassment.
Or:
Captain D— has been an odious, wicked fellow all his life, and is definitively extremely interested in the beauteous Miss H—['s fortune]. The only thing is, Miss H wants nothing to do with him, which is why the only dance she condescends to grant him is this one:
...Then perish, Captain D—.
Or:
Consider Miss C— and Miss M—, who really can only see each other in public because otherwise, their families might suspect they're more than just best friends, which in turn would jeopardise their chances on the marriage-market, which of course their fathers aren't particularly keen on- their little girls are supposed to be wealthy countesses one day after all. Not being able to spend time together alone is really, really hard for them, and in her yearning, Miss C— requests the band to play the following for Miss M—, looking at her with long, meaningful glances as they stand next to each other all lined up for the dance:
As the night progresses, Miss M— has hatched a plan; she requests
...and softly whispers "the library" into Miss C—'s ear as they turn past another dancing.
Or:
imagine a couple having a bitter fall-out. Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so had a fight over whether to colour-coordinate their outfits for the evening, which has alas sparked the fire of a dispute as old as their marriage (possibly some decades at this point): Mr. So-and-so never listens (says Mrs. So-and-so), and Mrs. So-and-so never compromises (says Mr. So-and-so). They've ridden the carriage to the party in silence, and as soon as they arrive, they alternate putting in requests:
They're both fully aware what the respective other requested, but as much as they want to be angry with another, they never really can remain so for long, and so, the tune of their requests changes:
Or:
The Duke of W— has espied his lover, the Earl of R— in the crowd. The hour is late, the company is slowly dispersing. As they 'accidentally' brush past each other, the Duke hums the following melody before waiting meaningfully by the garden door, where the shadows of the night shall veil any and all things that may happen there...
I got those gems from Volumes 1-4 of Thompson's Compleat Collection of 200 Favourite Country Dances perform'd at Court, Bath, Tunbridge & all Public Assemblies with proper Figures or Directions to each tune set for the Violin, German-Flute & Hautboy, dating to ca. between 1750 and 1780.
Maybe somebody else would like to take a look at them- be it to bemusedly study titles, try playing one of them, or get inspired for a story of their own...