The Forbidden Valentine

by Isabella Thorne

  Harry shrugged. “My definition of love is flexible,” he said as he did up the ties on David’s costume. “There you are,” Harry said as he tied the laces. “Much easier than corset lacings believe me.”

  Harry lifted his glass to toast his cousin, and David looked heavenward. His cousin was incorrigible. “We should go,” David said pulling the bell and calling the carriage.

  “We are going to arrive before The Lord and Lady Keegain even have the ballroom ready,” Harry complained, and so they waited a bit longer. David had the drink that Harry pushed on him, but he kept looking at his pocket watch every few moments.

  “Come along, Westlake,” he said at last. “We will have the driver go slowly.”

  Harry chuckled, finished his own drink and followed his friend. As expected, they arrived early to Keegain’s St. Valentine’s Day Ball. David clutched his drink and waved his cousin Harry away.

  “Do not hover,” David said. His hand was shaking, annoyingly; which was not at all in character for himself or his costume of leonine virility. He was sending splashes of purple wine up the sides of the crystal glass and was worried he might spill it. He drained it and sat the glass on a footman’s tray, before making his way around the floor once again.

  The Lord and Lady Keegain had gone above and beyond with their decor for the evening. Every inch of the ballroom was resplendent in shades of red and gold, set off by touches of crystal in the chandeliers and vases. Cupids were carved out of ice and heavy swaths of crimson silk hung in ribbons from the ceiling, in the corners, providing the illusion of privacy for couples in the wings. When the outer door opened, the silk ribbons flowed like water.

  David searched every face in the crowd. He would know Lady Eleanor even in costume; he was sure of it. He remembered the way she moved, the way she held a book of poetry or cocked her head when she was listening intently. He remembered the way she lowered her eyes when she was thinking, and the slight twitch that shivered through her when some line of a poem was a bit risqué. David smiled as he thought of her on the day they had first met, poking the fire in the parlor with the flames in her eyes, or standing beside her horse in the storm, like a snow queen or even slipping and sliding on the ice in the moment when he had first laid eyes upon her. Little did he know that she would hold his heart in her hands as he once had held her.

  David remembered her stunning violet eyes and how they darkened like a night sky when he stole a moment to hold her hand at the poetry meeting. He thought of the soft warmth of her as he caught her when she slipped. He intended to hold her tonight, if only he might find her. He was sure the very air in the room would change with Lady Eleanor’s presence once she arrived. She was not yet here.

  His stomach churned with nerves, and he took another glass of wine, sipping it this time. There was no guarantee she would come tonight, David reminded himself. Lady Eleanor’s family could have forbidden her, but he hoped she managed to avoid difficulties. After all, the ball was being held at the home of The Earl of Keegain, one of the Peerage, and one of the most prestigious families. The Hawthornes had to trust Keegain. Still, David tried to keep his hopes to a minimum. Indeed, he could expect nothing at all. After all, he was asking this woman, who knew him only via letter, to go against her family, to trust him with everything. It was foolish, romantic nonsense. But it was St. Valentine’s Day. If there was ever a time for foolish, romantic nonsense, this was it. David had professed his love, and there was no way to know when they might meet again. There was no time to dally. David had to act, and so he had come prepared.

  He pulled his grandmother’s ring from his pocket and examined the Firthley amethyst, as dark and lovely as Eleanor’s eyes. He would ask for her pledge tonight, and all the others be damned. If he had to, he would take her to Gretna Green, but she would be his wife. This he promised himself. He put the ring back in his pocket, sat his drink aside and strode through the ballroom looking for her, with purpose.

  As David searched, his eyes passed over none other than three angels, two mermaids, and several versions of characters from the Commedia dell’Arte, as well as a plethora of Greek goddesses. He did not know which were supposed to be which deity, but none were his own Eleanor. He must try to mingle and to not look so obviously searching, and yet David realized he was not the only gentleman to do so. Several other gentlemen were quite obviously trying to find their ladies in spite of their masks.

  If he had to go home without finding her…no… He would not. He would stay until the very end of the night with hope that she would come.

  ~.~

  Lady Eleanor’s anticipation of the evening had them late for the ball. She had wanted each detail of her costume to be just so and nearly drove Lavinia mad with her fretting.

  “You are beautiful,” Missus Hartfield said.

  “Truly?” Eleanor asked, nervous now that the moment had arrived.

  “Why yes, truly.” Missus Lavinia Hartfield clapped her hands in glee as she looked at Eleanor’s sisters. “Oh, look at all of you,” she cried. “You are all a vision of loveliness. Why I would not be surprised if you all found husbands incognito! You look like a flower garden, a breath of spring in this interminable snow.” She clapped her hands again. “Come, come now. We should only be fashionably late. And already we are overly fashionable, I must say,” Missus Hartfield confirmed, as she shooed her friends downstairs and toward the waiting carriage. “We must be off.”

  “I assure you, the gentlemen shall not even notice the tear at your hem, Eleanor.” Betty said.

  “What!” Eleanor had squeaked and twisted her body around to search for the offending flaw in the gauzy material.

  “Oh Eleanor,” Betty bent over in laughter. “My, but you will believe all.”

  “You are always out to make a game of me,” Eleanor feigned a pout but it bled into a smile. “Come, before you take another victim.” Eleanor reached to hug her little sister, wrapping her silk organza butterfly wings around the fourteen-year-old Betty who was clothed in her plain day dress.

  “I do wish I could go,” Betty said with a pout.

  “Soon enough,” Eleanor said, touching the tip of her little sister’s nose. “You will be out before you know it, and you will attend all manner of balls and soirees.”

  “Well, you must all hurry up and find husbands then,” Betty said to her older sisters. “So it can be my turn.”

  The girls all bundled up for the winter weather and the chilly carriage ride to the ball, wrapping themselves in their warm cloaks. Then Eleanor looped arms with Lily and Grace, ignoring Betty’s teasing, and they proceeded to the carriage in a flurry of masked costumes and laughter.

  Captain Hartfield followed with Missus Hartfield, and he along with Matthew, helped Lily and Eleanor into the carriage. At the last minute, Grace opted to ride with Father, Mother and Robert, letting Matthew ride in the carriage with Captain Hartfield.

  Once they were settled, Lily smiled at her sister. “Eleanor is so bent on finding her spouse,” Lily told Lavinia. “She is quite unlike herself today.”

  “You may all find spouses today,” Missus Hartfield added easily.

  It was true. Eleanor was a mass of apprehension. She stared out the window of the carriage annoyed with herself for feeling such anxiety. She had wanted this, and she was well and truly incognito in her masquerade attire. No one would find her out, and all would be well. But where would it all lead? She asked herself.

  Matthew asked Captain Hartfield some questions about the navy which was rather uncouth, in the presence of ladies, but he stopped the conversation soon enough and simply said he would appreciate Captain Hartfield’s opinion at a later date.

  “Aren’t you at Oxford now?” the Captain asked Matthew.

  “Yes, but I have been thinking that England needs every man, and I am the younger brother. In any case, I see no point in staying at Oxford unless I am for a law degree.”

  The carriage drew up to the front door, and Eleanor’s stomach roiled aga
in. She could not seem to calm herself no matter how hard she tried. She tamped down her foolishness. She was here with her sisters and held in high regard. There would be no misstep. Tonight she would dance with Lord Firthley.

  Captain Hartfield and Matthew stepped out to assist the ladies one by one to exit the carriage. A second carriage held Grace and Mother and Father along with Robert who joined them to assist the rest of the ladies from the coach. Eleanor took Father’s hand and felt a moment of dread that he may know something about the tryst she had planned, but her father only smiled at her.

  Their party joined the que where others were waiting to communicate to the Master of the Ceremonies that they wanted to dance the first minuet. Since it was a masquerade there was no need to give one’s name. Instead, the party-goers were announcing their characters instead. The entrance was a bit more boisterous than normal.

  Lord and Lady Hanway had chosen more sedate costumes as befitting their age and station. Directly behind them Eleanor and her sisters proceeded into the room, like a veritable flower garden, followed by, Captain and Missus Hartfield, as a sea captain and his mermaid.

  There were so many people! It felt to Eleanor as if the whole of the Ton was all staring at her and her sisters who, Eleanor thought, looked like a matched set. She supposed their little garden was an exercise in completeness. She had not meant to draw quite so much attention to herself, but standing together they were quite quaint and very colorful. She could not see how Firthley could miss the lot of them.

  As noted, they were late, but not the last of the guests to arrive by far. Throngs of partygoers still trickled in through the doorway hours after the floor was opened. It may very well be the largest event Lady Keegain hosted to date. It was certainly the largest Eleanor had ever attended.

  Footmen were available to mop up the wet from the snow that still lingered and direct the guests toward the ballroom.

  Even behind her mask Lady Eleanor made a striking entrance. With two beautiful flowers and her two towering brothers at her side, her small stature was accentuated and markedly feminine. Whispers followed them, the kind that came with appreciative stares, and the crowd parted to make way. Any other lady might have been pleased at the result, but Lady Eleanor’s eyes scanned the crowd from behind her mask in search of only one person, David William Firthley.

  The disguises of the crowd made it impossible for her to guess if she were even in the same vicinity as Lord Firthley, let alone in the same room.

  She accepted the hand of her nearest brother, Matthew, slipped her wrist through the loop of her trailing wings, and stepped forward toward her destiny.

  With swift efficiency, Missus Hartfield shuffled Father away. “You do not need to worry, my Lord,” She said. “If you wish to go to the card room, with the other gents we shall be fine. We have things well in hand.” Missus Hartfield grinned happily at Mother as if they were the best of friends. “Besides,” Lavinia continued. “With my Captain’s ship in, there shall be an abundance of gentlemen for dancing.”

  Eleanor thought there was a plethora of people in general. How would she ever find Lord Firthley? At least the crowd meant that Lord Hanway went with a brief wave and an announcement that he would be back to dance with a few of the ladies later in the evening.

  A lifetime passed as Eleanor listened to her mother make a long line of introductions, as she somehow found the various gentlemen amongst the crowd. Eleanor responded with pleasant remarks and observations but it was clear that her mind was elsewhere. She kept looking past her mother, searching for Lord Firthley. She seemed not to be able to control the impulse.

  Lady Hanway had engaged Robert to dance with Grace for her first dance of the evening, the minuet, and her sister Lily danced with Matthew, while she had Missus Hartfield’s Captain.

  She felt shy with him as she barely knew the man, but Missus Hartfield seemed insistent to arrange the dancing so. In a moment, Eleanor understood why. He was privy to their ruse.

  “Do you see your gentleman?” the Captain asked as the minuet was set.

  “I do not,” Eleanor said dismayed.

  “The evening is young,” he consoled her. “How is he dressed?”

  “As a lion,” she answered and talking was at a minimum while they danced. Captain Hartfield brought Eleanor back to her mother, but by now, Eleanor had lost track of her brothers. Lady Hanway was intent on introducing her to the son of yet another member of the Peerage. This one, she supposed was Caesar, although his costume was a little haphazard, with nothing but a half mask, strewn with several laurel leaves and a purple half cape over one shoulder and fastened under his arm. He seemed personable enough but Eleanor could barely keep her thoughts on the conversation. She tried not to scan the room, but it was difficult. When Caesar moved on, her Mother chided her about her manners.

  “Eleanor,” her mother hissed when they had a moment alone. “You might have at least smiled at Lord Wentwell; he is after all an Earl in his own right.

  “I did smile,” she argued with a halfhearted shrug.

  Moments later, Missus Hartfield had ingeniously engaged Lady Hanway with one of the dowagers. “Never fear, I will watch over the young ladies with the same sharp eye my chaperone always gave me.” She ventured a wink at the girls and Lily made the faux pas of actually snorting. Lady Hanway glared at Lily.

  “Do try not be too much of a blue stocking,” she told Lily. Then she turned on Eleanor and Lavinia. “And make sure that Eleanor finds her manners while I am away. I am afraid we may have to curtail all that poetry reading you have been about, Eleanor. I will not have two bluestocking daughters.”

  The daughters in question grimaced and shared a look that promised solidarity in the avoidance of Mother’s introductions. Then Lady Hanway joined the group of dowagers and moved away talking of The Lady Keegain’s infant son and her daughters’ lack of interest in suitors.

  “I am not uninterested in suitors,” Lily said. “I am only uninterested in the ones Mother finds.”

  Lady Eleanor chuckled, and Lavinia wove her hand through Eleanor’s arm

  “Now,” Lavinia said, clasping Eleanor’s hands and gauging her attention. “Let us find your beau, shall we?”

  “You would not happen to be distracted by anything,” Grace observed with a coy smile.

  “or anyone, might I ask?” Lily added.

  “Hush,” Eleanor whispered. “You know exactly who is meant to be in attendance tonight.”

  “Of course, sister,” Lily interrupted. “But you would do well to disguise that knowledge for it is written clearly upon your face.”

  “Then I must thank the heavens for such a fine mask,” she parried.

  “Ha!” Grace chirped.

  “Come now, Lavinia,” Eleanor bit her lip with worry. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only to those who know you well,” Grace replied patting her arm.

  “Be careful of Mother,” Lily said.

  “What shall I do?” Eleanor asked worried that their mother may indeed see some indication of the goings on upon her face.

  “Dance and be merry, I do suppose,” Lavinia suggested. “Perhaps your sister is right. You should stop scanning the room as if you are waiting for someone.”

  “I cannot,” Lady Eleanor admitted. “In this crush, I may miss him.”

  “You will not,” Missus Hartfield assured her. “Remember you must have faith.”

  ~.~

  David Firthley was on edge, almost painfully so, among so many people with whom he did not generally associate, but that was not the real cause of his nervousness. The prospect of a dance with Lady Eleanor Hawthorne had him almost giddy. He must find her.

  He would stay until the end, until the last guest left, until The Earl of Keegain removed him; he would wait on the hope that she would find a way to come. Moving about the outskirts of the room, he made his way back toward the door. He could use some fresh air. It was mid-February, the countryside was still blanketed in snow and there seemed
no end to the cold. Every time the main door opened, a burst of frigid air accompanied the guest inside. The ballroom doors were originally closed from the foyer to keep the ballroom warmer, but with the advent of so many guests, the ballroom doors were opened into the entrance hall. David waited for the crowds near the door to move farther inside, when he realized his hostess, The Lady Keegain was one of the goddesses he had seen earlier, and her husband was none other than Zeus himself complete with quiver of lightening bolts. He went to pay his respects.

  On the way, David noted a petite red haired Queen Elizabeth and looked for a match to her, but did not see one. She was conversing with a fairy, or perhaps, Titania, the Queen of the Fairies. He did not see Oberon nearby, but there was a jackass as well as a medieval knight laughing with the ladies. Neither of the women was his Eleanor.

  “Did you see the jackass?” someone asked, and David turned to see the Countess had questioned. “Whatever was Captain Beresford thinking?”

  “No doubt he lost a bet,” the Earl of Keegain said as he turned to Lord Firthley.

  “Ah, a true lion,” Keegain said laughing. “I have not seen the like tonight.”

  The leonine head of Lord David Firthly bowed over the Countess’ hand greeting her, and then her husband, and all the while, trying to deduce who was who from The Lord and Lady Keegain’s conversations about their guests costumes. They seemed to have a better chance of guessing the true identity of the other partygoers than he did.

  “Well, certainly Captain Hartfield did not try very hard to disguise himself,” a swan complained, fanning herself with a feathered fan contraption that doubled as a wing.

  “That is because the costume had special significance to his lady,” one of the mermaids said grinning. David turned to look at her. She was pretty, petite and blonde, and he suddenly realized he knew her. Missus Lavinia Hartfield, their dear nurse who had been passing notes for Eleanor and himself. He greeted her first with a bow.