I want to thank you all of you who have taken the time to comment. I'm sorry I've been negligent about replying--but I am reading all the comments. I'll try to do better this time. I work on stories of this sort as a break from JAFF, and I don't worry too much about historical accuracy, language, etc. It's just all for fun! Thanks for reading.
Chapter 4
“Charming fellow,” remarked my friend drily, turning to me. “Are you well?”
I sank down onto the bench with a sigh of relief. “Yes, thanks to you! How can I thank you for coming to my rescue like that? And how did you know?”
“I was watching you,” he said simply. “I was kicking myself for handing you over for the whole dance, and when I saw him drag you in here I knew there would be trouble.”
“Yes, you were right, of course. I should have stopped him, but I didn’t know how without causing a fuss.” I looked at him, staring down at me with his arms crossed, his broad shoulders set and a slight smile around his sensitive mouth, while his eyes gleamed mysteriously from behind his mask. “I didn’t like him, even before he brought me here.”
“I’m glad.” He sat down next to me, and offered his hand. I put mine into it. “I won’t make the same mistake that other fellow did of trying to take your mask off, but perhaps I have earned some sort of confidence… a first name perhaps?” he asked hopefully.
I could think of no reason not to tell him. “Ella,” I said shyly.
“Ella,” he repeated. “Why that’s charming.”
He stood up and seemed about to draw me after him, but I held back, saying rather boldly, “And you, sir?”
He paused, surprised. “Me?’
“Can I—may I know some name by which I may thank you?”
He hesitated, then smiled. “Of course. Forgive me. You may call me Simon.”
“Simon,” I repeated, pleased, and took his arm to go for refreshments.
Now reader, don’t laugh at me. There must be thousands of Simons in this country.
We remained together for the rest of the evening. Safe behind our masks, heedless of propriety, we danced until we were breathless, then sat together and laughed until ready to start again.
“You know, there are plenty of other beautiful women you could be dancing with,” I reminded him at one point.
“I know,” he said.
When the room finally grew too stuffy, he took me outside to stroll down the terrace in the evening air. There we talked for—oh, it seemed like hours, although in actual fact it wasn’t quite that long. I questioned him about the war, and he answered me, and talked long about his experiences overseas with the army. He did not mention his rank and I did not ask, but it was obvious that he had had men under him, and equally obvious that he had not shrunk back from the battle himself. There in the moonlight, leaning on the balustrade, his voice grew distant as he talked of cannon fire and long marches; of maneuvers and charges; of loneliness, homesickness, and death’s grim face.
I listened to him raptly. Here was a man who had really done something—something real, something significant.
At last he turned to me with a sigh. I saw his teeth gleam in the moonlight. “I have been talked far too much,” he said. “You were probably bored long ago.”
I shook my head. “No, indeed,” I said earnestly, “I wanted to hear you. It all seems so…”
“Exciting?” he suggested sardonically.
“Important.”
His hand covered mine on the rail, and I did not draw back. “And what of you, Mistress Ella? You have told me nothing at all concerning yourself.”
I shook my head.
“Oh come, you must tell me something,” he coaxed. “It’s only fair.”
“Well…” I hesitated. “My mother died when I was a child. I remember her as the loveliest, gayest, sweetest woman ever. Look.” I pulled back the hem of my skirt. The slippers flashed and glittered. “I’m wearing her shoes.”
“Very pretty.” There was a laugh in his voice.
“I think that if she had lived I would have had a very different life,” I said seriously. “But when she died everything changed. My father, he was well-meaning, but, well, not very attentive.”
“And what has your life been?” he asked gently.
I did not answer him. Instead I said, with some difficulty, “It must seem strange to you that I have never gone into society before, but it’s the truth. There are reasons, but I cannot get into them tonight. But I want you to know that I am an honest and virtuous woman.” The last words came out with more force than I intended.
“I didn’t doubt it.” He was looking at me with a bit of a frown now, but he did not draw his hand back from mine. On the contrary, he seemed only to clasp it tighter, and I found myself returning its pressure.
His next remark surprised me. “Will you be at the Royal Ball next week?”
“I don’t really know. Why?”
“Will you try? Will you to try to make it, for my sake? That is—” he paused, and I could almost have sworn he blushed a little. “That is if you would be willing to see me again. Without masks.”
My heart pounded, and my breath caught uncomfortably. Simon’s tall form loomed over me, and I wondered for a moment if he was going to try to kiss me, but all he did was hold my hand in his, waiting for my answer.
“I—I will try.” I found myself saying, and I knew that I would. His quick white smile rewarded me, and he pressed my fingers.
“How will I recognize you?” his voice low. “I don’t think I shall have any trouble, even without a mask, but just in case—”
“Well—” I laughed suddenly. “By my slippers.”
He nodded. “By your glass slippers, then. I will look for them.”
A sudden cheer when up from the ballroom. I looked at Simon questioningly. “I believe they’re unmasking,” he informed me gravely.
I drew back a little. “No, it’s all right,” he said. “Not tonight, I know. I will escort you out by a side way, if you will allow me.”
“Thank you.”
“Well…” he let go my hand, but only to touch a small curl on my forehead, very lightly. I shivered at the touch like it was a caress. “It is good night, then, Ella. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed an evening more.”
“Me either,” I whispered.
“Say you won’t fail me, Ella. Say you’ll be there.”
“I—I can’t,” I stumbled. “There are so many things it depends on.”
“Very well.” He sighed. “I’ll have to be content with that. Now let’s get you out of here.”
He led me around the house, through a side door, and down a hallway. The carriage was already waiting for me. As Simon handed me into it I felt grateful that there was no crest on the panel to give me away.
He kissed my fingertips before he let me go. “Til next week,” he murmured, and I know I blushed.
As the carriage set off I leaned back against the cushions, tired but exhilarated. To dance a few dances—to talk a little with high society people and observe their manners, was all I had hoped from this evening. Instead I had gotten—I flushed and refused to define what I had gotten. But whatever it was, it had a great deal to do with a pair of broad shoulders, and a white smile.
Mrs. Gainswood was waiting up for me when I returned. “Well, my dear?” she asked. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Mostly. I felt very strange at first, but not so much later.”
She nodded. “And did you speak with any agreeable people?”
“A few. And some not so agreeable.”
“Inevitable, I’m afraid.” She dismissed that. “And did you dance with many young men?”
“I danced a great deal,” I answered a bit evasively.
“Did anyone ever remark on your lack of breeding, or seemed offended, or stare at you like you were vulgar?”
“No,” I admitted.
“And did you feel that you were in any particular respect inferior to those other people present?”
“Well… my dancing…”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Oh. Well, then, no.”
“Then it’s settled! You shall remain with me and become Lady Elisabeth again.” She looked at me with satisfaction.
I hardly knew what to say to her. One evening at a masque had not convinced me that I wanted to become a society lady, and fear of step-mother’s retaliations still loomed large in my mind. But to return to a life of drudgery seemed scarcely possible now. When I had imagined my birthright irrevocably dead, I had found myself able to bear it, but now that it was all but resurrected, that life seemed already unbearable.
Then I thought of Simon. I had made him a promise, and keep it I must. Just the thought of seeing him again drove away many a protest.
“Do you really think you can deal with my step-mother?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I’ll do it.”
Mrs. Gainswood clapped her hands and beamed. “This is going to be so much fun!” she declared. “Just you leave everything to me!”
I was content to do that—until I found out that she never meant me to return home at all. “But I must!” I protested.
“Now, Ella.” Her face grew very nearly stern. “I’ll not have you go back to that—woman’s house, to be possibly coerced or even locked up. I have you here safe now, and she doesn’t know where you are at all—and so I intend to keep it!”
“But—my mother’s trunk. My money!”
“Money!” she exclaimed. “Child, I have money enough for both of us! Your paltry savings won’t matter.”
“But it’s my money,” I insisted stubbornly. “I worked for four years to save it, and I’m not giving it up. Or my mother’s picture.”
She stood up, went across the room to a desk, rummaged in the drawer, and returned with something which she placed in my hand. It was my mother’s likeness, an exact replica of what I had in my box. “Is that what you want?”
Wordlessly I cradled it in my hands, tears starting in my eyes. Then I felt her hand on my shoulder, and heard her voice, very gentle. “There, there now, my dear. Do not fear—you mother’s memory shall never die as long as I live, nor shall it be denied to you.”
I nodded. “I won’t take the risk of getting mine, then,” I managed to say, “but I’m still going back for my money.”
With a laugh and an admonishment, she gave in. I promised most strictly to stay only long enough to collect my possessions, and her coachman took me, dropping me off down the street.
I felt badly leaving Cook and the rest of the staff so abruptly, but I knew they would soon enough find someone else to take my place.
“Charming fellow,” remarked my friend drily, turning to me. “Are you well?”
I sank down onto the bench with a sigh of relief. “Yes, thanks to you! How can I thank you for coming to my rescue like that? And how did you know?”
“I was watching you,” he said simply. “I was kicking myself for handing you over for the whole dance, and when I saw him drag you in here I knew there would be trouble.”
“Yes, you were right, of course. I should have stopped him, but I didn’t know how without causing a fuss.” I looked at him, staring down at me with his arms crossed, his broad shoulders set and a slight smile around his sensitive mouth, while his eyes gleamed mysteriously from behind his mask. “I didn’t like him, even before he brought me here.”
“I’m glad.” He sat down next to me, and offered his hand. I put mine into it. “I won’t make the same mistake that other fellow did of trying to take your mask off, but perhaps I have earned some sort of confidence… a first name perhaps?” he asked hopefully.
I could think of no reason not to tell him. “Ella,” I said shyly.
“Ella,” he repeated. “Why that’s charming.”
He stood up and seemed about to draw me after him, but I held back, saying rather boldly, “And you, sir?”
He paused, surprised. “Me?’
“Can I—may I know some name by which I may thank you?”
He hesitated, then smiled. “Of course. Forgive me. You may call me Simon.”
“Simon,” I repeated, pleased, and took his arm to go for refreshments.
Now reader, don’t laugh at me. There must be thousands of Simons in this country.
We remained together for the rest of the evening. Safe behind our masks, heedless of propriety, we danced until we were breathless, then sat together and laughed until ready to start again.
“You know, there are plenty of other beautiful women you could be dancing with,” I reminded him at one point.
“I know,” he said.
When the room finally grew too stuffy, he took me outside to stroll down the terrace in the evening air. There we talked for—oh, it seemed like hours, although in actual fact it wasn’t quite that long. I questioned him about the war, and he answered me, and talked long about his experiences overseas with the army. He did not mention his rank and I did not ask, but it was obvious that he had had men under him, and equally obvious that he had not shrunk back from the battle himself. There in the moonlight, leaning on the balustrade, his voice grew distant as he talked of cannon fire and long marches; of maneuvers and charges; of loneliness, homesickness, and death’s grim face.
I listened to him raptly. Here was a man who had really done something—something real, something significant.
At last he turned to me with a sigh. I saw his teeth gleam in the moonlight. “I have been talked far too much,” he said. “You were probably bored long ago.”
I shook my head. “No, indeed,” I said earnestly, “I wanted to hear you. It all seems so…”
“Exciting?” he suggested sardonically.
“Important.”
His hand covered mine on the rail, and I did not draw back. “And what of you, Mistress Ella? You have told me nothing at all concerning yourself.”
I shook my head.
“Oh come, you must tell me something,” he coaxed. “It’s only fair.”
“Well…” I hesitated. “My mother died when I was a child. I remember her as the loveliest, gayest, sweetest woman ever. Look.” I pulled back the hem of my skirt. The slippers flashed and glittered. “I’m wearing her shoes.”
“Very pretty.” There was a laugh in his voice.
“I think that if she had lived I would have had a very different life,” I said seriously. “But when she died everything changed. My father, he was well-meaning, but, well, not very attentive.”
“And what has your life been?” he asked gently.
I did not answer him. Instead I said, with some difficulty, “It must seem strange to you that I have never gone into society before, but it’s the truth. There are reasons, but I cannot get into them tonight. But I want you to know that I am an honest and virtuous woman.” The last words came out with more force than I intended.
“I didn’t doubt it.” He was looking at me with a bit of a frown now, but he did not draw his hand back from mine. On the contrary, he seemed only to clasp it tighter, and I found myself returning its pressure.
His next remark surprised me. “Will you be at the Royal Ball next week?”
“I don’t really know. Why?”
“Will you try? Will you to try to make it, for my sake? That is—” he paused, and I could almost have sworn he blushed a little. “That is if you would be willing to see me again. Without masks.”
My heart pounded, and my breath caught uncomfortably. Simon’s tall form loomed over me, and I wondered for a moment if he was going to try to kiss me, but all he did was hold my hand in his, waiting for my answer.
“I—I will try.” I found myself saying, and I knew that I would. His quick white smile rewarded me, and he pressed my fingers.
“How will I recognize you?” his voice low. “I don’t think I shall have any trouble, even without a mask, but just in case—”
“Well—” I laughed suddenly. “By my slippers.”
He nodded. “By your glass slippers, then. I will look for them.”
A sudden cheer when up from the ballroom. I looked at Simon questioningly. “I believe they’re unmasking,” he informed me gravely.
I drew back a little. “No, it’s all right,” he said. “Not tonight, I know. I will escort you out by a side way, if you will allow me.”
“Thank you.”
“Well…” he let go my hand, but only to touch a small curl on my forehead, very lightly. I shivered at the touch like it was a caress. “It is good night, then, Ella. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed an evening more.”
“Me either,” I whispered.
“Say you won’t fail me, Ella. Say you’ll be there.”
“I—I can’t,” I stumbled. “There are so many things it depends on.”
“Very well.” He sighed. “I’ll have to be content with that. Now let’s get you out of here.”
He led me around the house, through a side door, and down a hallway. The carriage was already waiting for me. As Simon handed me into it I felt grateful that there was no crest on the panel to give me away.
He kissed my fingertips before he let me go. “Til next week,” he murmured, and I know I blushed.
As the carriage set off I leaned back against the cushions, tired but exhilarated. To dance a few dances—to talk a little with high society people and observe their manners, was all I had hoped from this evening. Instead I had gotten—I flushed and refused to define what I had gotten. But whatever it was, it had a great deal to do with a pair of broad shoulders, and a white smile.
Mrs. Gainswood was waiting up for me when I returned. “Well, my dear?” she asked. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Mostly. I felt very strange at first, but not so much later.”
She nodded. “And did you speak with any agreeable people?”
“A few. And some not so agreeable.”
“Inevitable, I’m afraid.” She dismissed that. “And did you dance with many young men?”
“I danced a great deal,” I answered a bit evasively.
“Did anyone ever remark on your lack of breeding, or seemed offended, or stare at you like you were vulgar?”
“No,” I admitted.
“And did you feel that you were in any particular respect inferior to those other people present?”
“Well… my dancing…”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Oh. Well, then, no.”
“Then it’s settled! You shall remain with me and become Lady Elisabeth again.” She looked at me with satisfaction.
I hardly knew what to say to her. One evening at a masque had not convinced me that I wanted to become a society lady, and fear of step-mother’s retaliations still loomed large in my mind. But to return to a life of drudgery seemed scarcely possible now. When I had imagined my birthright irrevocably dead, I had found myself able to bear it, but now that it was all but resurrected, that life seemed already unbearable.
Then I thought of Simon. I had made him a promise, and keep it I must. Just the thought of seeing him again drove away many a protest.
“Do you really think you can deal with my step-mother?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I’ll do it.”
Mrs. Gainswood clapped her hands and beamed. “This is going to be so much fun!” she declared. “Just you leave everything to me!”
I was content to do that—until I found out that she never meant me to return home at all. “But I must!” I protested.
“Now, Ella.” Her face grew very nearly stern. “I’ll not have you go back to that—woman’s house, to be possibly coerced or even locked up. I have you here safe now, and she doesn’t know where you are at all—and so I intend to keep it!”
“But—my mother’s trunk. My money!”
“Money!” she exclaimed. “Child, I have money enough for both of us! Your paltry savings won’t matter.”
“But it’s my money,” I insisted stubbornly. “I worked for four years to save it, and I’m not giving it up. Or my mother’s picture.”
She stood up, went across the room to a desk, rummaged in the drawer, and returned with something which she placed in my hand. It was my mother’s likeness, an exact replica of what I had in my box. “Is that what you want?”
Wordlessly I cradled it in my hands, tears starting in my eyes. Then I felt her hand on my shoulder, and heard her voice, very gentle. “There, there now, my dear. Do not fear—you mother’s memory shall never die as long as I live, nor shall it be denied to you.”
I nodded. “I won’t take the risk of getting mine, then,” I managed to say, “but I’m still going back for my money.”
With a laugh and an admonishment, she gave in. I promised most strictly to stay only long enough to collect my possessions, and her coachman took me, dropping me off down the street.
I felt badly leaving Cook and the rest of the staff so abruptly, but I knew they would soon enough find someone else to take my place.