Serial Fun - Installment 9

 

Sigh.  I am having difficulty getting to the sewing room.  I am about to go sew muslin 2...it is all cut and marked...but rather than stay up and post about it late tonight I'm just going to go ahead and post Installment 9 and hope to have a fitting update tomorrow.  If you have missed any of the previous installments, click HERE, scroll to the end and read it oldest to newest.

            Isabella was also thinking it could be a long night as she tied on the satin mask.  Without Rita’s good-natured encouragement, her confidence drained completely away, and her hand shook as she handed the gatekeeper her invitation.  She held her breath as he glanced at it, handed it back and waved the carriage on.  She was late enough that there were no carriages waiting in front of them, so Jerry was able to pull right up to the palace steps.  Martin came around and opened the carriage door and stood very straight as he held his hand out to help her out of the carriage.  Nervously, Isabella stepped out and smoothed her skirt.  She looked up the steps to the massive doors and took a deep breath.

            “Miss?”  Jerry called softly.  Isabella looked up at him, hoping she wouldn’t faint.  He smiled at her pale, frightened face, and reassured her, “We’ll be right here at twelve, just as...um...Miss Rita said.”  Then, sensing that Isabella needed a bit of encouragement, he added, “If ye don’t mind my saying so, Miss, y’do look lovely.  Have yourself a good time.”  Then he moved the reigns and the carriage moved away from the door. 

            Isabella took a deep breath, turned and slowly went up the steps.  She vaguely remembered climbing these steps once before...with her father many years ago.  He’d brought her to see...who was it?  She couldn’t remember.  Suddenly, the whole thing became an adventure.  Perhaps she would see something or someone that would help her remember more about her beloved parents.  The color came back to her face as she held up her head and went in. 

            She was met almost at once by a wigged gentleman in a satin waistcoat.  He frowned at her mask but said nothing other than “May I see your invitation, please?”  Isabella handed him her beautifully lettered manuscript, which he inspected somewhat more closely than had the gatekeeper.  He frowned at her again, and her mouth went suddenly dry.  He looked again at the invitation, but apparently could find nothing amiss.  He said, rather stiffly, “You may present the invitation to the herald for your presentation to the royal family,” indicating a doorway to his right.  Isabella nodded hesitantly, reclaimed her invitation, and walked over to the door.  Judging from the sound of music wafting through the door, it was a passage that led to the grand ballroom.  She glanced into the room and saw that a reception line had apparently been set up and there were a fair number of people in line to be presented.  Isabella watched as one young lady’s name was announced, and she made her curtsey to the King and Queen, along with some other people Isabella couldn’t see properly.  She glanced down the waiting line and inhaled sharply as she saw her stepmother and stepsisters waiting their turn.

            “May I have your invitation, Miss?”  The voice at her elbow startled her so that Isabella actually jumped.

            “I...I...,” she stammered, thinking fast as a page held out his hand expectantly.  There was no way for her to get by her stepmother...she couldn’t let them announce her name...suddenly, inspiration hit and she concluded anxiously, “I think I’d like to freshen up a bit first...would that be acceptable?”

            The young page smiled.  Nearly half the young ladies had so far gone to the powder room to primp before being presented.  He was a bit perplexed by the mask, but decided if the young lady was foolish enough to wear it, he’d certainly not prevent it.  He told her where to find the room that was designated as the ladies’ lounge, accepted her relieved thanks and shook his head as she headed off in that direction.  Girls!

            To her immense relief, Isabella found that the ballroom had an entrance on the hall on which the ladies’ lounge was located.  She slipped the invitation into the reticule Rita had provided for her, took a deep breath, and stepped just inside the ballroom door.  She was instantly entranced by the music and the festive atmosphere of the room; the flowers, the gauzy drapes, the flickering lights, even the breathtakingly beautiful dresses she saw on so many ladies as they sashayed about the dance floor with skirts swirling...it seemed to her as if she’d stepped into a completely different world.  So taken was she with the whole experience that she failed to notice the stir she caused among nobility standing about the perimeter of the ballroom...particularly among a group of young men who felt, with some justification, that they were being ignored by the young ladies present.  After a bit of speculation as to who she might be, one of the young men announced to his companions, “Well, I’m going to ask her to dance!” and headed toward Isabella.

            Isabella was a bit startled when this handsome young gentleman presented himself before her, bowed and said, “Lawrence Abergine, at your service.”  However, she recovered enough to make a curtsey and reply, “How do you do?”

            Lawrence smiled and continued, “I was wondering if you would do me the honor of this waltz?” and gestured toward the dance floor.

            Isabella’s heart skipped a beat, then she remembered Rita’s injunction not to look like a frightened mouse.  After all, she was Lady Isabella Amanda Charlotte Savoy...she drew herself up with a determined air, smiled and replied, “I’d be delighted, Mr. Abergine.”  She was a bit nervous as they walked out to the dance floor...it had been a long time since her dancing lessons.  However, her feet seemed to remember her lessons better than she had expected and Lawrence Abergine was an expert dancer.  She found that she could follow him easily and, to her amazement, enjoyed it immensely.

            After a few moments, Lawrence spoke.  “Is it futile to ask whose company I am enjoying?”

            Isabella smiled shyly.  “I wish I could tell you...but if I felt like I could, I wouldn’t be wearing this silly mask.  I’m just going to have to be anonymous tonight.  I’m sorry.”

            Lawrence apparently wasn’t satisfied.  “Oh, you can tell me...I’ll keep your secret.”

            She shook her head sadly.  “Really, I can’t tell you.”  She sighed then added regretfully, “I can’t tell anybody.”

            “Why not?”  Her partner wasn’t going to give up easily.

            She laughed ruefully, “I can’t even tell you that.”

            Now Lawrence laughed.  “What is it...are you under an enchantment or something?”

            This caught Isabella off guard, and she considered it for a moment.  She was surprised that she didn’t feel at all intimidated by the questions and realized that the mask was giving her confidence, almost like she was someone else…someone who didn’t spend all her time and energy trying to keep other people from yelling at her, or worse.  Was this what life felt like if one was a normal person?  Perhaps Mr. Abergine was closer to the truth than she had thought at first. “Well...I suppose you could call it that.”

            “So how do I break the spell?”

            Isabella frowned, thinking.  “I’m not sure.”  She smiled grimly, realizing the truth of what she was saying. “The wicked witch never told me it could be broken.” 

            Before Lawrence could reply to that, a hand tapped his shoulder and a young man who presented himself as Stephen Rogers took Lawrence’s place.  After the waltz, Oscar somebody asked her for the next dance, then was supplanted by Drummond somebody else...Isabella finally despaired of keeping them straight.  All of them were as determined as Lawrence to find out who she was, but other than the vague reference to the ‘wicked witch’ she refused to even hint at her identity.  After a while, Isabella began to rather enjoy the attention she was receiving from all these unknown young men, being the mysterious masked maiden, and her everyday life seemed less real to her than the lights and the music and the flowers and the pursuit of the noble young gentlemen.  She was oblivious to the speculation about her that was flying around the ballroom.

            Suddenly, right in the middle of a waltz, the orchestra broke into a fanfare and the dancing ceased.  Puzzled, Isabella looked at her partner...Edward, she thought he’d said...and he explained.  “They’ve finally closed the reception line.  It’s time for the Grand March.  Shall we?”  He offered her his elbow.

            Isabella looked at the line of couples forming behind the King and Queen.  She had no idea what steps were in the Grand March.  She looked at Edward.  “Actually, I’m quite thirsty.  Do you suppose we could get something to drink?”

            Edward seemed almost relieved as he agreed and escorted her to the long hall where the refreshments were being served.  This time, Isabella noticed the drop in conversation when they entered.  She felt as if everyone were looking at her while Edward got her punch.  She told herself she was just imagining things, but she still felt acutely uncomfortable as she thirstily drank her fresh raspberry punch and nibbled on the dainty cake Edward had brought to her as well.  She was relieved when Edward led her back to the ballroom to watch the remainder of the Grand March.  The dancers had split into two groups now, with the King and Queen leading one group and the Prince and his partner leading the second.  Isabella looked at the Prince carefully as the second group swept by.  This was the closest she’d ever seen him, and she was a bit surprised to find that he looked familiar...or did he remind her of someone?  Maybe she had seen him all those years ago when her father had brought her to the palace.  She wished she could remember.  There was a flourish or two on the dance floor, and the Grand March was over.  Before Edward could ask her for the next dance, however, another young man she had not yet met presented himself and asked for the waltz.  Isabella smiled apologetically at Edward and left him standing disappointedly on the sideline as her new partner escorted her out onto the floor.  

    As before, one young gentleman after another led Isabella around the dance floor.  She got along well enough with the waltzes, but now and again a dance of a different sort, with more detailed steps, began, and she would take refuge in the refreshment hall. Fortunately, the waltzes were clearly the most popular with the dancers and the orchestra only occasionally broke the waltz tempo with another style. Isabella had just begun a waltz with a young man in military dress when her partner (Isabella could not remember what his name was...) stopped and looked at someone behind her.  “Oh, now you’re going to cut in, Gregory?”

            “Sorry, Alex,” said a male voice behind her.  “I believe I’ve met every young lady here except this one, and since no one can tell me what her name is I’m going to have to ask her myself.”

            Isabella turned around and was surprised to find that it was the Prince himself who wanted to dance with her.  She dropped an embarrassed curtsey.  “Your Highness!”

            “Excuse me, then,” Alex said good-naturedly.  Then, he added to Gregory in a loud whisper, “She wouldn’t tell me her name, either...good luck!”  He saluted and left the dance floor.

            Gregory whisked Isabella around the room before she had time to grow nervous.  “Alex is an old schoolmate of mine,” he explained.  “He owes me a favor or two...I’ll let him know we’re even now.”

            “Because you’re dancing with me?”  Isabella was incredulous.  She could understand why the other young men were interested in her, since all the girls there were fawning over Gregory.  That he should come and seek her out with all the others vying for his attention astonished her.

            “Why not?”  Gregory smiled.  Then he said, “I’m right, aren’t I -- we’ve never met?”

            “No, your Highness.  At least, I don’t think so.”  Isabella was still trying to figure out why he looked so familiar.  Up close, it was even more remarkable.  She added, “I don’t get out much socially.”

            Gregory deftly led her around a corner of the ballroom.  “That surprises me.  I would expect you to be in great demand socially.”  He grinned at her.  “You’ve certainly caused quite a stir this evening.”

            Isabella nearly stumbled.  “What?”  She felt the color drain from her face.  She was sure she’d be recognized if her stepmother looked at her closely.  She glanced about and noticed that there were several people looking in their direction.  She realized most of them were watching the Prince, but she still felt that familiar terror returning.  Just then, the waltz ended, and Gregory bowed to her.  She curtsied to him, certain that he would escort her off of the floor and then dance with someone else.  Instead, as the orchestra began a minuet, Gregory made an unhappy face.

            “I have always despised minuets.  Do you like them?”  He queried.

            Isabella was honest.  “Your Highness, I have never learned one.”  Then she sheepishly admitted, “I have been avoiding them all night.”

            Gregory chuckled and offered her his arm.  “Then it sounds like a good time for a break.  Shall we take a stroll on the terrace?”  As Isabella smiled shyly and took his arm, he continued, “I warn you, I’m determined to find out who you are.”

            Isabella’s smile took on a slightly sadder look as they left the dance floor.  “Are you really?”  She shook her head.  “I’m telling you the truth when I say that it has to be my secret tonight.”

            Gregory said nothing but gave her a raised-eyebrow smile as they walked out onto the terrace.  There were quite a few people out there -- it was a fine night and many, like Gregory, were not fond of dancing minuets.  The Prince led Isabella to a far corner, which was partially screened from the rest of the terrace by a large planter.  The ground sloped away from the terrace down to a lake where the three-quarter moon was reflected in a shimmer of silver.  It was a lovely spot.  Isabella released Gregory’s arm and clapped her hands in delight.  “Oh, how pretty!”  she exclaimed.

            Gregory now grinned at her.  “I wondered if you’d think so.”  He leaned with both hands on the low wall that bordered the terrace, looking thoughtfully out over the lake.  “I’ve always liked the view from here.  It’s been my favorite thinking spot ever since I was young.”  He was silent for a moment, taking in the view, then he turned around and sat on the wall, facing Isabella.  “Did I startle you when I said you’d caused a stir?”  Isabella said nothing but nodded slowly.  He continued, “Would you like to hear the gossip that’s going around about you?”

            Isabella’s voice was weak as she stammered, “Gossip...about…about me?”

            Gregory’s voice was amused.  “Oh, yes.  There are several folks who know you’re one of the minor palace maids who made a bet she could sneak into the ball...I’ve heard of one or two who ‘have it on good authority’ that you are a commoner that I met and fell madly in love with while I was abroad, and you’ve come incognito because my parents don’t approve... I’ve been told by several other young ladies that they feel the mask is nothing more than a cheap trick to get my attention...shall I go on?”

            Isabella was aghast.  “I never thought...I mean, I knew I’d be an odd duck in the mask, but I never expected that anything like that would happen...”  For a moment, she looked as if she were on the verge of running away.

            The Prince smiled at her and gently touched her elbow.  “Don’t let the court gossips worry you.  There are entirely too many people here who get their delight from putting other people down.  You’re not used to it, so I’ll let you in on the secret...if they weren’t jealous of you, they wouldn’t pay any attention to you.”

            Isabella considered that for a moment, looking at the shimmering lake, then commented with just a trace of bitterness, “Oh, I’m well acquainted with jealousy, your Highness.”  She had never thought of it before, but suddenly she understood her stepmother and stepsisters in an entirely new way.  “Jealousy can make people do...awful things.”

            Gregory said nothing for a few moments then asked gently, “Does that have anything to do with your mask?”

            Isabella slowly turned and looked at him.  “More than I can say, your Highness.”  She dropped her eyes.  “The truth is, the gossip is right on one point -- I’m not supposed to be here.”  She looked up at him and quickly added, “Don’t misunderstand me -- I did receive an invitation -- but...,” she took a breath before continuing, “I’d be in terrible trouble if ...someone...who has nothing at all to do with you or your family…found out that I am here.”

            “Is that ‘someone’ somebody in your family?”  Gregory was imagining an overbearing father who wanted to keep his daughter away from society so he could marry her off on his own agenda.

            Isabella caught her breath, hesitating. “In a way. And I really don’t want to say more than that.”

“But you took the risk to come.”  Isabella bit her lip but did not reply.  Gregory was curious.  “Why?”

            Isabella looked up at him and smiled wryly.  “I let myself get talked into it.”  Then, she sighed and shook her head.  “No.  I wanted to come.  I wanted something lovely to remember when...,” she groped for the right words, “...when things aren’t so lovely.”  She was getting close to dangerous ground.

            Gregory stood up and sighed.  “What a blow to my ego!  I was hoping you’d say you came to see me.”  He was only half-joking.  There was something intriguing about this girl.

            “Just like all the others, your Highness?”  Isabella inquired dryly, realizing the mask was making her rather bold again.

            “Touché.” Gregory replied, placing a hand on his chest.  Then he queried, “What makes you say that?”

            Isabella smiled slightly, remembering her stepsisters’ elaborate, unrealistic daydreams that she had had to listen to for hours as they prepared themselves for the party.  “I figured there was a reason all the young men were dancing with me.”

            Gregory laughed.  “You don’t think they were dancing with you because you were such a mystery?”

“I rather think it’s because when I arrived…I was very nearly the only young lady not in the line to dance with you.”

“Yes, and you made me dance with everyone in that line before I could get my dance with you.”

“Oh…I am sorry.” Isabella-behind-the-mask was teasing him now.  “I didn’t know I was expected to dance with you.”

Gregory caught her joke and went right along with her jesting, replying in a rather silly, stuffy voice, “Well, that is the whole reason for the party.  So, yes, actually, believe it or not. I’m supposed to dance with everyone here …and fall in love with one of my dance partners forever.”

            Isabella actually laughed. “Seriously?  Someone you hardly know?”

“My mother is a hopeless romantic and all the court aunts and mothers and grandmothers are even worse.”

“Surely they know real love doesn’t work that way.”

            “Oh, yes, but sometimes the whole lot gets carried away.”   Gregory dropped his facetious manner and looked at her, then suddenly asked, “So, how do you think love works, then?”

            Isabella looked at him with a bit of surprise.  She didn’t expect that.  She took a deep breath, then turned her gaze out over the lake and thought for a moment of those fleeting happy memories of her mother and father before she answered, speaking thoughtfully.  “I think love starts with friendship.  People who are really in love with each other know they can trust each other completely.  They can share their dreams and ideas with each other.  They laugh at the same jokes, enjoy the same kinds of things.  They respect each other, admire each other...they are committed to each other.”  She paused a moment before she smiled and continued, “It takes a while.”  She looked at Gregory rather sheepishly, hardly believing she was saying these things to him, but of course he no idea who she was. “That goes rather against the romantics, I’m afraid."

            Gregory, almost shocked beyond words at hearing this unknown young lady describe the kind of relationship he had been searching for, nodded slowly and agreed, “Yes, it does.”  They stood side by side, saying nothing and watching the moon dancing on the water for several moments.  Gregory’s mind was spinning.  It began as a lark, just to see if she would tell him her name, but now....  Finally, he turned to her.  “Is it even possible to see you after tonight?"

            Isabella stood stunned for a split second, then nodded, stopped and shook her head.  “I don’t know.”  She swallowed and took a breath.  “It’s…complicated…I’ve been telling the others a wicked witch has me under a spell.  It’s not literally true, of course, but…it’s a good analogy.”

            “You are not free to say?”  Gregory was still trying to match her to an overbearing, possessive father. ‘Witch’ didn’t really line up with that, though. 

            Isabella hesitated.  She was on the dangerous ground now.  She started to speak, then stopped and looked out over the lake again.  At last, she merely said, “It would take too long to explain now, and I don’t want to spoil a beautiful evening by trying.”  She looked at him and smiled ruefully. “I just want to think about…the moment.  It will be a memory soon enough.”

            Gregory nodded thoughtfully.  “It sounds like they’re playing waltzes again.  I’d like the next dance, but I would like for you to do me a favor first.”

            Isabella looked at him warily.  “Your Highness, I can’t tell you who I am,” she cautioned.

            “I know,” Gregory assured her in an understanding voice, “That wasn’t what I was going to ask.”  He paused a moment.  “I would like to see your face,” he said.  Gesturing to the planter, he continued, “No one else can see us back here...,” he turned and looked at Isabella with a gentle smile. “I’d like to know what the mystery lady looks like.  One piece to the puzzle.”

            Isabella’s breath caught.  She had been speaking freely because no one knew who she was; the likelihood of anyone actually finding her after tonight…even the prince, she thought, was highly unlikely.  But to take off the mask…be herself…did she dare?  Would it make a difference?    What if somehow it got back to her stepmother?  But what if he was serious about seeing her?  Was that even possible? Could it really hurt for one person to know what she looked like?

            Slowly, as if she were dreaming, Isabella untied the mask and lowered it.  When she looked up at Gregory, serious and unsmiling, with just a trace of apprehension showing, he looked at her for a long moment, as if he were trying to memorize what he saw.  Gregory was, in fact, quite surprised at how lovely and vulnerable she looked in the moonlight.  He wasn’t sure what he expected, but there was a dream-like quality to her; he almost felt she might not even be real.  He cautiously raised his hand and softly touched her cheek.  Yes, she was real.  Then, without really intending to, he quickly bent his head and surprised her with a gentle, very light and brief kiss.  He looked straight into her eyes and smiled slightly.  “Keep your secret for tonight,” he said.  “I’ll solve the riddle.”

            Isabella was surprised and embarrassed and felt tears rising.  She looked at the ground.  “Good luck,” she whispered shakily.

            At that moment, a figure came around the end of the planter and a male voice spoke, “Oh, there you are, Gregory!”  Startled, Gregory and Isabella sprang apart as the Grand Duke stopped, surprised.  “Oh, pardon me, I didn’t mean...” his voice trailed off as a curtain in the window moved and light fell fully on Isabella.  “Bella!” he gasped, shocked as Isabella, horrified, backed up two steps and fumbled to re-tie her mask.  “No... you can’t be Bella,” he said, more to himself than to her.

            Gregory, thoroughly confused, shook his head.  “Uncle Godfrey, what are you talking about?” he queried, just as the tower clock began to chime.

            Isabella was at once shocked, angered and relieved that it was midnight.  She gave a final tug to the knot that held the mask in place.  “I…I have to go!” she exclaimed and darted around Godfrey.  “Good-bye!” she called over her shoulder as she slipped into the ballroom.  She heard cries of “Wait!” and “Stop!” behind her and, alarmed, abandoned all sense of dignity, and ran straight across the dance floor, through the reception hall and toward the Palace door.  However, as she hurried across the foyer, she stumbled, and her left slipper fell from her foot.  “Oh, dear,” Isabella fretted as she stopped and turned to retrieve it.  Then, to her horror, she heard an all-too familiar voice coming down the hall from the ladies’ lounge.

            “I’m sure the Prince is heading this way, Eugenia.  If you hurry, you should get a chance to speak with him privately.”

            Her stepmother!  Overcome by terror, Isabella abandoned her slipper and escaped out the door and down the steps to the carriage, which was waiting as promised.  Martin helped her in and closed the door, and they were gone.

To be continued...