Bitter Moon

by R. L. Giddings

  We stepped out behind a huge display of silver balloons so we had a moment to take in our surroundings unobserved. It was a room of immense proportions with tall, arched windows over on one side. The lower walls were panelled in pear wood, each one with its own carved borders which ran the length of the room. There was a small stage where a small ensemble was playing. The walls were covered with paintings of various family members, some were in traditional Scottish dress, but these were interspersed with renditions of various mythical figures, amongst these a man with a head shaped like a dandelion. It seemed a strange mix to me.

  The dance floor heaved with bodies: women in gorgeous dresses and men wearing kilts. The men wore woollen jackets that were exquisitely tailored, enhancing slim waists and disguising thicker ones. They looked relaxed in their own skins even when dancing.

  A number of guests stood around the dancefloor interspersed with waiting staff, a number of men in military dress and various household officials. Of Lady Antonia there was no sign, and I felt great relief at that.

  Carlotta took a breath and steadied herself with a hand on her chest.

  “Do I look alright?” she asked.

  “You look stunning.”

  “Right, let’s do this.”

  I tapped Carlotta’s arm, “Remember. I can’t dance.”

  “Don’t worry. Just mingle. You’ll be my friend from university. Makes things simpler.”

  I nodded and we stepped out into the bustle of the room proper.

  Carlotta headed straight for a waiter holding a tray of drinks. She handed me one before taking one for herself. Champagne with a frozen pink raspberry.

  “Leave your hair alone,” Carlotta spoke without looking at me. “You look great.”

  But that made me even more anxious. My hair was piled up high and held in place by a collection of hair grips. I wasn’t used to wearing my hair like that and I was certain that it was starting to unfurl even though it felt fine.

  “Watch out,” Carlotta said. “We’ve been spotted.”

  A thickset man in an army officer’s jacket and red and blue tartan kilt came over smiling intently. As he approached I was struck by how young he looked with his sandy blonde hair and freckles.

  “Douglas Hamilton may I introduce you to Miss Bronte Fellows. Bronte’s a friend from university.”

  He took my hand and held it briefly to his lips before repeating the action with Carlotta.

  “Charmed,” he said. “It’s Dougie by the way. Only my father calls me Douglas.”

  Carlotta smiled. “I’m doing you a disservice, Dougie. Shouldn’t I be telling Bronte something about your rank? I’m sure that a good hostess is meant to know these things.”

  Dougie pointed to a silver badge with a thistle at its centre.

  “Scots Guards,” he said. “That’s really all you need to know.”

  “You must have a rank though,” I said.

  “Lance sergeant.”

  “And what does that mean?” Carlotta asked.

  “Means I can be instantly demoted the next time I mess up.”

  I said, “And does that happen a lot: you messing up?”

  “More often than I’d care to mention. Like now, for instance. I should be tracking down my brother and here I am being side-tracked by you two beauties.”

  His eyes locked with mine.

  Then he said, “Are you both on the same course?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” I said although what that course might have been had gone completely out of my head. “We have the same personal tutor.”

  “Who must be either extremely old or extremely self-disciplined not to be distracted having you two in his class.”

  Carlotta punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re the one who’s easily distracted, Dougie. But we won’t keep you, will we Bronte? We have a lot of people to meet.”

  Dougie gave a little shrug. “Of course, you’re right. I’ll agree to go but only on the understanding that I get a dance with one of you ladies later.”

  “Bronte doesn’t dance,” Carlotta said. “So you’ll have to make do with me.”

  “Pity!” said Dougie who inclined his head to the pair of us before leaving.

  As he walked away I noticed how good he looked in his kilt.

  “He’s nice,” I said.

  “Don’t let Silas hear you saying that.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “The Hamiltons are one of the few families that could claim to rival us. This has been going on for years. Dougie is Lord and Lady Hamilton’s eldest. He’s been on active service in the Middle East for the last few years and, now he’s back he’s decided to take a look at the competition.”

  I thought about that for a second.

  “So, Dougie – Douglas - whatever you want to call him. He’s a …” I mouthed the word ‘werewolf.’

  Carlotta nodded slowly. “As is every man on the dance floor.”

  I looked about. There must have been forty or fifty men on the dance floor with roughly the same number standing on the periphery.

  “What? You mean all of them?”

  “Well, not the staff, obviously. But the rest? Every single one of them. That’s why they’re here.”

  I suddenly felt very vulnerable.

  Carlotta continued, “Don’t worry, though, you’re quite safe. They’re hardly likely to change in such formal surroundings. That would be a terrible abuse of good form. And, as we know, werewolves are all about good form.”

  At that moment there was a bit of commotion behind us. The ensemble had finished playing and the people on the dance floor had stopped to applaud. I twisted back around to see what all the fuss was about only to be confronted by Silas pushing his wheelchair in our direction.

  He was wearing a dark dinner jacket and a red checked tartan kilt. His right leg was heavily strapped. On his lapel, he wore a large thistle.

  I had quite forgotten just how handsome he was and my cheeks burned as I thought about flirting with Douglas earlier. That was how deeply he affected me.

  I was struck by how curly his hair looked. I had noticed it that night out on the Common but he had since worn it flat. Tonight, his head was a mass of tight ringlets which looked extremely fetching. He was carrying a thistle and he called Carlotta over so that he could attach it to the front of her dress. He looked at her with sweet delight and, once he’d finished, she bent to kiss him on the cheek. The simplest emotions are often the purest. It was the first time that I’d seen the pair of them together.

  He’d always looked so certain of himself previously. Even in the garden, he had been totally in charge of his environment and dismissive when I had tried to question him but all that did was isolate him further and I didn’t envy him that. Tonight I saw that disdain replaced by the obvious affection he felt for his sister. And that was a great relief.

  Just watching them together I felt my earlier irritation begin to evaporate.

  “The thistle,” Carlotta said, adjusting her new adornment. “It has pride of place on our coat of arms. Robust yet prickly. That just about sums us up.”

  “Bronte,” Silas gave me a curt nod which I returned. “Lovely to see you again.”

  “And you.”

  “I’m surprised that you’re not dancing.”

  Carlotta said, “Dougie offered but, as Bronte never tires of telling us: she doesn’t dance.”

  “So he’s been sniffing round?”

  “Don’t worry,” Carlotta said. “We soon sent him packing.”

  A waiter came over with a glass of scotch which Silas downed in one gulp.

  I said, “I’m glad to see that you’re still taking your medication.”

  “I’m a stickler for it.”

  I appealed to Carlotta for her support but she just pulled a face.

  “Are you taking anything else for the pain?”

  He tapped his temple. “I considered a bullet, right about here.”

  “Silas, this isn’t funny,” I�
�d lowered my voice to the barest whisper.

  “And I am not laughing. The reason that most people accepted my mother’s invitation tonight is to see what sort of state I’m in. Now that they’ve seen me like this,” he paraded around in a tight circle, “it’ll be only a matter of time before they make their move. I’m sure that, as we speak, alliances are being forged to bring down the house of Laing. You really couldn’t make it up.”

  I turned to Carlotta. “Is it as bad as all that?”

  She gave me an enigmatic little smile. “I guess we’re going to have to wait and see.”

  Then she moved off, leaving us alone.

  Silas said, “I’m surprised you’re still here considering how foul I was earlier.”

  “Don’t think that I’ve forgiven you. I just haven’t got anywhere else to go.”

  “I admire your honesty. Seriously, I should have handled things differently.”

  “That’s all right,” I took a sip of my own drink to mask my frustration. “You were, after all, trying to protect me when you were shot. It’s all turned into a bit of a mess, what with the pack and everything.”

  The music ended and people started to leave the dance floor, one or two of them pausing to acknowledge Silas. Lady Laing was in the doorway surrounded by well-wishers. One of them was a particularly striking woman in a beautiful silk dress.

  “I assume that Carlotta filled you in on the situation with the Hamiltons?”

  “I hear that they’re your main rivals.”

  “That’s right. There are five major families. Two currently in decline, which leave’s my lot- the Laings - plus the Andersons and the Hamiltons.”

  “Is this about your father’s disappearance?”

  “That’s right. We kept it quiet for as long as we could but it’s become something of an open secret of late. The problem is that the threat of a pack leader is the only thing keeping this lot in line. Stops them from ripping one another’s throats out.”

  “But your father’s not dead, is he? I mean, he is still alive?”

  “We honestly don’t know what’s happened to him. But it’s been two years now and people are starting to get ideas. It’s not impossible that Dougie Hamilton might make a challenge but then there’s Gordon Anderson.”

  “Is he here?”

  I looked around just in time to see that Lady Antonia had taken to the stage and was busying herself with the microphone.

  Silas adjusted his chair to face the stage and I moved to stand alongside.

  He spoke quietly, “I’ve always been quite friendly with Gordon but family pressure can be a terrible thing. If he was going to make a formal challenge we’d have heard about it by now. Dougie, on the other hand, is a different proposition all together. He’d like nothing better than to tackle me personally.”

  I grasped the back of his chair. “But not when you’re like this.”

  “Especially when I’m like this. A rival’s weakness presents an opportunity. An opportunity which might not come again.”

  I wanted to ask what he would have done if the roles had been reversed but I wasn’t sure that I would have liked the answer.

  Instead, I said, “But if he did challenge you what then?”

  He shrugged. “We’d be obliged to fight. But not as men.”

  “But you can’t.”

  “I’d have no choice. And at least that way Carlotta and my mother would be spared.”

  My mouth fell open at that. “But that’s ridiculous. What’s to stop him from challenging you tonight?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  Over the speakers, Lady Antonia was asking if anyone had seen her son.

  *

  After they finished speaking Carlotta came over to find me. She cocked a thumb towards the far side of the room.

  “Buffet’s open. Fancy something to eat?”

  A selection of attractive canapes had been laid out over on the far side of the ballroom. I looked down at my dress. I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t get it dirty but I was also incredibly hungry.

  “Only if you promise to stick with me.”

  “Why would I ever leave you?”

  “You left me with Silas.”

  “I did that out of kindness, to my brother, not to you. I could see he was struggling. I thought you might be able to calm him down before my mother did her ritual humiliation thing.”

  “He looked quite relaxed up there.”

  “How did you think it went?”

  I grimaced. “Your mother’s quite a commanding presence. Anyone who went up against her would have to be pretty sure of themselves.”

  Carlotta cocked her head to one side, “Tell me something I don’t know. I was talking about Silas. Do you think he did enough to keep them all on the back foot?”

  Silas had only spoken for a short while. He had made a few good humoured digs at the other families’ various shortcomings but there was no mistaking his confrontational approach.

  “I didn’t understand all the jokes but I thought he went down quite well.”

  Carlotta wasn’t convinced. “He’d pinched a lot of those lines from my father. But those kind of veiled threats tend to work best when you’re not sitting down.”

  I looked over to Silas who was at the side of the stage talking to a middle aged man with a grey goatee. The man towered over him.

  “Who’s that?”

  Carlotta flared her nostrils. “Lord Carlisle. Head of the Anderson clan.”

  “Looks like he’s enjoying Silas’ company.”

  “His lordship is very shrewd. He’s always looking to improve his advantage and I think this time he’s onto a winner.”

  As we watched, the woman I’d noticed earlier detached herself from the crowd and went across to take the lord’s arm. She wore a dark brown silk dress which hugged her curves like liquid chocolate. Her hair was a shade lighter, falling to just below her shoulders. Her dress had no back at all and her skin was flawless.

  She spoke directly to Silas who laughed but didn’t hold her gaze.

  “Witty as well as gorgeous,” I said.

  “He’s trying to keep the pair of them on-side.”

  “That’s not his wife, is it?”

  “Good God, no. That’s his daughter: Modena. Don’t ask. She works in the family firm. They have a huge property portfolio. Huge. So she flies all over. Her brother, Gordon, is supposedly being groomed to take over the family firm but Modena is the one to watch.”

  “I bet she is. Poor Silas doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

  “Don’t be fooled. In the dim and distant past they used to be an item.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “What happened?”

  Carlotta turned towards me, her eyebrows raised. “Have you met my brother? She wanted a proper relationship and Silas - being Silas – didn’t.”

  “That’s a pity.”

  “Okay,” Carlotta hitched her arm through mine. “Let’s stop staring at the pretty lady before we are consumed with envy.”

  We turned our backs on her but that didn’t seem to help. Even when I wasn’t looking at her I was still consumed by envy, not to mention a soupcon of jealousy. What can I say? I’m human.

  The ensemble was in the process of re-taking the stage and we carefully weaved through the crowd in order to avoid them. They were joined, this time, by a female vocalist.

  The food was beautifully laid out and was constantly being refreshed by a group of waiters wearing short white jackets. I was drawn towards one table with a whole lobster displayed as a centre-piece. In front of this was an arrangement of different types of sushi. I took a plate and napkin and started helping myself but when I had trouble leaning across in my dress one of the waiters came to my aid, using a set of tongs to select my choices for me. Then he led me to a selection of sauces. It was the sauces that I was most worried about with the dress. I just couldn’t take the risk.

  “What about crayfish? Do you like crayfish?”<
br />
  I turned around to see Dougie Hamilton holding one out for me.

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to start grappling with a shellfish but, on the other hand, I didn’t want to seem impolite. The happier Dougie was, I figured, the happier I’d be. I shot a look across to Carlotta who was helping herself to some roast beef. She made a comic gesture of being overwhelmed.

  So, in the end I accepted the crayfish and stepped back from the buffet before he could foist anything else on me.

  “I was disappointed by Silas’s speech,” Dougie was stabbing at the food on his plate.

  “You couldn’t call it a speech.”

  “I know. That’s why I was disappointed. He left it all to his poor old mother, again.”

  “She seems to be able to handle herself.’”

  “True. But what we really need is a strong man at the helm. No disrespect to Silas but he’s hardly in the best of health.”

  I shot Carlotta another look but she hadn’t finished filling her plate and had got stuck behind a couple who were taking their time selecting their salad.

  “How long have you known Silas, then?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t say I know him. We’re more ‘acquaintances’.”

  “That’s not what it looked like earlier. So what exactly is wrong with him? Has he pulled his back or something? He seems to be hitting the scotch pretty hard.”

  Another voice, behind him.

  “You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  Silas pulled around beside me, looking irate. He had a thin sheen of sweat on his face and his nostrils were flared.

  Dougie raised a fork in greeting apparently unperturbed. He pierced a slice of beetroot and took a bite.

  “I was just saying to Bronte here about you making a speech.”

  “Speech? What speech?”

  Dougie waved towards the orchestra.

  “Oh, you know. Rumour has it that you were going to make an announcement of sorts. About your future plans. I thought you might have said something when you were up there with her ladyship. Or are you going to do it later? People are curious, that’s all.”