by Fanny Finch
The ride was long, but not quiet or boring. Charles discussed business with his mother, and other affairs.
He always kept her abreast of matters. She was his greatest confidant and his best advisor. Yet, she never pried and was quite content with whatever information he chose to give to her, no matter how little, when he felt it necessary to do so.
This was another reason he adored the woman who was Emily Duncan.
As they neared the Birmingham townhouse, every discussion of business and the matters of the duchy ended.
The silence was suspicious, and when the Dowager Duchess spoke, Charles was not taken by surprise.
“You look dashing, Charles. As always. I am certain you shall catch the eye of many women at the ball tonight.”
He heaved a sigh. Somehow, his mother seemed to believe that two years was enough time to mourn the death of a wife with whom he had been estranged for a year before her death. Nevertheless, he understood.
As patient as she was with him, she was also concerned about an heir for Finchester.
Also, he suspected that his mother feared for his heart, that he would grow lonely and ache from it.
“As it happens, Mother, I am not into the business of fishing for eyes.”
“I knew you were going to say that, Charles. It has been three years already since…” She stopped and wisely rethought her next words. “Since she left. How much longer shall it be?”
“I have no interest in taking another wife, Mother. One marriage gone sour is more than enough for me.”
“Is it? You are young still, and Finchester needs an heir. Surely you cannot be contemplating the option of giving your title to your cousins?”
Her expression turned into a frown. “They would ruin everything we have worked for, just as they have been trying to do for years. The people of Finchester would be in terrible hands.”
“I would protect the welfare and interest of my people with my life, Mother. You know this.”
His mother sighed exasperatedly as she sat up in her seat. “How do you hope to do that when you pass away from old age?”
“Mother, you fret too much. The year of my demise, God willing, is still far away. Before then, I shall make sure that all my affairs are in order before I breathe my last breath. Including whose hands Finchester shall be handed onto.”
“I do not see a way out of it if you refuse to sire an heir. And to sire a legitimate heir, you must marry.”
“I assure you, Mother. I am well aware of all of these.”
“So? How much longer shall you need to recover from that girl?”
She sighed, shaking her head. “I wish your father and I, bless his soul, never agreed to that betrothal. It would have saved you a whole lot of heartache.”
Indeed, it was something Charles had thought of, several times, in the privacy of his chambers, where no one would see how much he still hurt from the series of unfortunate events that had happened.
If his parents had left his marriage to his hands, would he have chosen Elise? Would he have fallen in love with her still, so helplessly?
It was a question which he would never get an answer to. He knew this. Still, it did not stop him from wondering.
“What is done is done, Mother. Let it rest. There is no way you and Father could have known. We must look on to things that are ahead now. I have Finchester, and you have finding a new husband to worry about.”
The Dowager Duchess gasped, surprised that he knew of her plans to remarry. This secretly pleased Charles. Now, he had succeeded in stirring their conversation away from him.
“How did you come to know of this? I have shared it with no one.”
He smiled, awfully pleased with himself. “Mother, I have known you for thirty and two summers. I lived inside of you. You were so eager to come to the season, for one, and you have been taking great care with your appearance lately.”
He gestured to her impeccable dress. “Look how you made me wait the whole eternity this night. Moreover, you are a woman attuned to the language of love, Mother. I knew it was only a matter of time before your heart sought another.”
There was brief silence as her face fell, remorse stealing all over her features.
“I did not know how you would take it. It is the reason why I did not say a single word of it. I should not have disregarded how much you know me.”
She looked at him, her eyes earnest. “I still love your father, Charles. You must know this.”
“And you always will. Yes, Mother. I know this. Father was your one true love, yet your vows were till death do you part. You remained faithful to him all your years together, and even after death.”
She looked up then, her face slowly lightening up. “So, you are not cross?”
“Why ever? Of course not. I think it is a good thing that you are willing to try again.”
He smiled. “Although, any man you take a liking to shall have to pass some tests. I shall not give you to another so easily. He shall have to prove himself worthy.”
Her smile was back in place, this time, a full-fledged grin.
“Oh, Charles, I shall expect nothing less. I am truly glad that you are not upset with me. I do have good feelings about this season. I believe many beautiful things shall happen.”
“I am not upset. Although, I fear I may not be able to say the same for Gaius when you bring home another man.”
“Gaius? But what does he have to do with this?”
She had spoken so innocently, as though she was truly ignorant. But even in the poorly lit carriage, Charles could see her cheeks grow warm again.
Indeed, it would be an interesting season.
“We’ll see, mother. We’ll see.”
Chapter 8
“I promise, Eleanor,” Edwin said, “if you do not stop shaking like a leaf, I may be forced to turn around, lift you into that carriage and take you back home.”
He continued in exasperation. “We have been through this a hundred times. You look beautiful and no one will recognise you. Heavens! If I had not seen you put on that mask, I would not be able to guess your identity either.”
Her brother was right, Eleanor knew this. So, she took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come.
Then, looking up at him, she offered a small smile. “See? I’m not shaking any longer.”
She was, deep inside, but he did not have to see that. He rewarded her with a smile in return.
“Now, that is more like it.”
“Yes, I suppose. We must not tarry any longer, Edwin. The ball awaits.”
“Oh yes, it does.”
They resumed walking then, and Eleanor took her time to breathe consciously and get her nerves under control.
This was the first ball of the season, and she had indicated interest to attend when the invite had come for the members of their family.
She had not been persuaded whatsoever. She had willingly decided to attend. It was a masquerade and shielded with a mask, she had believed that she would be able to let go and attend without worrying about being discovered.
She had spent much time to choose a suitable outfit, and a fitting mask.
After much consideration, she had decided to abandon the black dress. After all, no one would know who she was.
In a bid to be truly contrasting, she had chosen to go with white. Howbeit, a soft white, not as pure as the bridal white.
Her mask was also white, with delicate, intricate, silver linings. It was the shape of a butterfly and she truly loved it. It covered her forehead and nose, leaving only her eyes and lips bare.
As for her gown, it was quite busy, but in an elegant manner that did not cause confusion. It was decorated with lace trimmings, beads and sequins which shone in the light, reflecting different colors.
Her hair was held up in a tight bun, her fingers covered with silvery gloves, and her shoes were as white as her gown.
I look beautiful. I have to stop worrying about what people will think of
me, when they do realise that it is I, indeed.
They finally reached the doors of the mansion and, as they were ushered in, the strong urge to cover herself overwhelmed Eleanor.
She firmly fought against it. Feeling Edwin’s gaze on her, she turned to meet his reassuring smile.
Unable to help herself, she smiled back. She was his partner for the ball tonight and she knew he would let no harm come to her.
This night, she was free to live and dance, and breathe. She was free to enjoy the soirees she had missed deep down.
As soon as they settled into the ballroom, the feeling of nostalgia came rushing.
There were people everywhere, most of whom she did not recognise, on account of their masks. But she knew they were familiar.
People she had known, and wined and dined with. Everyone looked beautiful and sharp in their dresses and suits. The ballroom shone with glamour and the chatter and laughter filled the room, swallowing her fears.
One final time, she took a deep breath and released it in a ragged stream.
Never had she thought a time like this would come when she would miss these soirees and the grandeur they came with. Yet, here she was, realizing with a start that she had indeed, missed this life.
Perhaps Edwin had been right and coming to London had been a good step.
Edwin sighted his close friend and business associate in the distance, and promptly excused himself to go greet him properly.
As he left, Frances came to stand by Eleanor’s side. “His Lordship is a wonderful man, indeed. The Lord knew what He was doing when He gave you to him.”
Eleanor looked at her brother where he was, at the other side of the room, laughing as he greeted his friend, Lord Humphrey. Then, she turned to eye Frances knowingly.
“Yes. Indeed, she did. I never could have asked for anyone else. He is a fine man too, wouldn’t you agree?
“The woman he would marry shall be a lucky one,” she continued. “Then, I suppose, any woman who would win Edwin’s heart would be so wonderful, that she too would make him a blessed man.”
Frances, who had been looking at Eleanor’s brother, the love in her eyes poorly disguised, looked away in that moment.
Eleanor knew it was simply to hide her blushing cheeks. She saw them anyway.
“Yes, my lady. I do believe she will be the luckiest woman alive.”
Nothing more was said between the two women as Edwin returned. He began to take Eleanor around the ball room, saying hello to those whom he recognised and introducing her as his dear friend, Madam Felicia from Italy.
It truly amused her. During a masquerade, many used aliases for amusement, but they had not agreed on any alias prior to coming.
Finally, it was time for the first dance. As customary, she danced first with her brother, for he was her escort.
After the dance, she decided that a drink would be nice. So, she found her way to the refreshments’ table, to get herself a glass of fruit juice.
Just as she was done having her fill of the delicious drink, she dropped her cup, only to find a certain man staring at her with piercing grey eyes.
Those eyes, they seemed familiar. However, she could not recall where she had seen them.
It did not help that the man was in a black mask. It was almost impossible to tell if she knew him or not.
She looked away, unnerved by his unwavering gaze. Still, she felt his eyes upon her, even as she tried to busy herself with picking berries off the table into a small plate.
Slowly, she turned to look again, wanting to confirm if he was indeed still staring.
Her eyes clashed against his and she quickly averted her gaze.
Since when did people begin to stare so unashamedly? Surely, now that he knew he had been caught, twice, he would know to stop his staring and simply walk away.
Or perhaps, could it be that he recognises me? That could not be possible now, could it? Perhaps, my dress has a stain?
She looked down to thoroughly inspect her dress. It was still a clean white with no speck of dust upon it. She observed closely, just to be certain.
Yes, indeed, there was nothing. She lifted her kerchief to her lips to dab at the sides. Perhaps she had a little something from the juice.
The kerchief came back clean. And she could still feel the man’s gaze on her. Dear heavens.
She was beginning to get uncomfortable. Quickly filling her plate with all that she needed, she turned to walk away.
What does that man want? Who is he?
Truly, it was strange. Even stranger that aside from her discomfort, she did not feel any fear. She had not perceived the slightest feeling of grave danger.
Lost in her thoughts, she managed to find her way to Frances.
As she reached her side, she pondered upon whether to tell Frances of the man, but decided against it.
Frances might begin to fret, and may feel obliged to tell her brother of it. No one fretted as much as Edwin did over her.
Ah, she would best keep the encounter to herself. It was possible it was nothing. Perhaps, the man had been intrigued by her, perhaps he had simply thought her beautiful.
It was only expected that men stared at women they considered beautiful.
Soon, it was time for the second dance, and as Edwin returned to their side, he looked at her apologetically.
“Dear sister, I hope you would not mind if I decided to ask Frances here to honor me with a dance.”
She shook her head at him. “Of course not, Edwin. Please, by all means. Take her away. I find I have become terribly bored from watching her stand by my side all evening like a statue. Spin her carefully, brother.”
“I cross my heart, Eleanor.”
His lips widened in a grin and he turned to Frances.
“My lady,” he began as he bowed, holding out his hand for hers. “Would you honor me with this dance?”
Frances looked at Eleanor, as though asking for permission. It almost made her laugh.
She and Frances were way past such formalities. Still, her friend would never stop observing them.
She also had been friends to Edwin for the same number of years. He had never been anything but polite and nice towards her. Yet, she could never get rid of her shyness whenever he paid her attention.
Eleanor simply nodded her head affirmatively at the girl. “Of course, Frances, you may.”
That was all the encouragement that was needed. Once Frances heard the words, she placed her hand in Edwin’s and dropped a lovely curtsy.
“I would be the honored one, sir.”
They were on their way the next moment, and Eleanor could not stop herself from smiling as she watched them float towards the dance floor, hand in hand.
She truly could not wait to see those two married.
Suddenly, she felt a presence by her side, and turned to see that it was the man from the buffet table.
This close, she saw that he towered over her by at least eight inches. He also appeared to be handsome.
He was dressed in fine clothing, from head to toe, looking striking in his white and black choice of colours. His eyes were kind. And again, the feeling of familiarity struck her.
“Pardon me, my lord,” she blurted, unable to help herself. “However, you do seem awfully familiar. Have we met?”
Chapter 9
She saw his lips lift in a smile.
Even his smile struck her as terribly familiar, like she had indeed met this man before, and she had seen this smile.
It gnawed at her, only, she could not simply remember how, when or where that meeting had ensued.
“My lady, how am I supposed to know if we have met, when I can hardly see your face behind that mask?”
He had made a good point. One she had not considered when she asked the question.
“Oh…” she responded, looking away briefly in embarrassment.
“I suppose you are right, good sir,” she continued. “It shall be impossible to answer this way. Just as i
t is impossible for me to answer if, truly, I have met you before.”
“I am glad that you see it in the same light. Nevertheless, the clock shall strike twelve in a few hours. And then, our curiosity may be satisfied.”
Eleanor simply smiled in return, not knowing how to respond to that.
She planned to leave before the clock struck twelve. She was not going to be around when everyone had to take off their masks.
