by Karen Kay
The orchestra was situated on the minstrel’s gallery at the top of the room, hidden by the balcony on which they sat, only the strains of the musicians’ melodies a reminder of their presence within the room.
At the east end of the ballroom stood floor-to-ceiling windows, each draped with curtains. Interspersed among them were three different sets of doors which, opening inward, led out onto balconies overlooking the lush, carefully manicured gardens of Shelburne Hall.
It was on one of those balconies now that Black Bear stood, facing into the ballroom, pensive, silent, observant.
And he saw everything, from the tight, tight black trousers of the men to the long, white or pale gowns of the ladies, with only the toes of their shoes poking out beneath the flimsy materials of their dresses. Everyone, he observed, wore gloves and the women had adorned themselves in jewelry that gleamed and glittered under the shimmering lights. No beads, no wampum he’d ever seen shone such as this.
He watched as that drink he called spirit water passed from one person to another; he watched as men promenaded the room with their women after each dance; he observed the couples dancing in the middle of the floor. But most of all, he scanned every corner of the room, his gaze inspecting the people, the servants, even the orchestra members above for signs of weapons, of ambush, of possible danger.
He could find none. And while this should have comforted him, it had the opposite effect, Black Bear worried.
Waste Ho seemed to take ho heed of her situation. He looked at her now as she stood inside the room, a circle of men surrounding her.
Someone had shot at her. Twice. Someone had reason to desire her death. Twice. That someone could be here and though Black Bear had memorized the looks of those two men in Hyde Park so many days ago, he had never seen them again. It worried Black Bear. He felt he was no closer to solving the mystery surrounding these attempts upon Estrela’s life than he had been that first day he’d saved her.
He watched her now as she laughed, and a familiar warmth spread through him.
It was good, the way she looked, the way she smiled, standing there in a delicate, practically see-through, white dress. Cut low in front, he had an enticing view of her full bosom before the dress fell away in an angled line almost to the floor. He had noted that the style of dress here concealed little, the flimsy material on the outside of the women’s clothing doing a great deal more than just hinting at what lay beneath.
He continued to gaze at her. Her blond hair was pulled up onto her head in back, while in front she left ringlets of curls adorning her cheeks and falling over her ears, the curls turning to her shoulders. Her mouth, painted delicately, was curved into a smile as she laughed up at the men who circled her; her soft, white gown neatly conformed to her figure. Black Bear, looking at her now, understood why he had risked all to come after her, trouble though she was.
He remembered again the conversation he’d had with her maid and friend, Anna.
The maid hadn’t told him much, only that Waste Ho had made a promise long ago, and that he, Black Bear, should not be “fobbed off” by Waste Ho’s marriage.
He set his lips and narrowed his eyes.
Just what did that mean?
Did the sanctity of marriage mean little here in this foreign land? Was it a common practice to know another intimately? Another besides one’s wife or husband?
Black Bear tilted his chin upward.
It would seem so.
In these past few weeks, since coming to the “country”, Black Bear had received practically every invitation known to man from the fairer sex, whether that woman be married or not.
He had been passed notes, requiring the Duke of Colchester or Black Bear’s own manservant to interpret. Notes of liaison, notes of passion. He had been propositioned; he had been waylaid. He had even come into his chambers to find a woman there—in his bed.
And through it all, Black Bear had steadily ignored them or carefully declined, though it was taking quite an effort to continue to do so. But he had determined that he wanted Waste Ho and if he couldn’t have her, he wanted no one.
Still…
He saw her glance his way and he wondered what she thought. Did she love him? If she did, why was she married to another? If she didn’t love him, why did she respond to him so completely whenever he held her? And why, he questioned himself, was he holding her when she was married? Where was her husband?
He shook his head, and deciding he would get no answers tonight, turned his gaze elsewhere.
The Duchess of Colchester’s shrill laughter reached out to him, and Black Bear found himself smiling. He glanced at the woman, all dressed in bright yellow; he was not in the least surprised to find her two daughters standing neatly behind her, both of them wearing various shades of yellow, too. They reminded him, the three of them, of a mother duck and her two ducklings and he had fallen into the habit of calling her magaksica, the Duck, and her two daughters mahcinca, the Ducklings. The women seemed thrilled with their new Indian names, not even concerned over their meaning, and Black Bear had found himself more and more amused.
And while he appreciated Lady Colchester’s hospitality and her congenial manner toward him, he was not unaware that she used him—or at least she tried to. But Black Bear was not the sort of man to do others’ bidding and soon a sort of “truce” had been made between him and the esteemed lady—a mutual understanding that Black Bear would do as he saw fit, that the Duchess of Colchester could pretend his ideas were her own and that as long as her plans did not interfere with his own, he would suffer her introductions.
The smile remained on his face as he continued to stare at her. And he realized that the lack of guests to the Colchester estate might likely lie in the fact that the Duchess, good-natured though she was, made others feel uncomfortable. Her prattle tended to bore.
But Black Bear couldn’t complain. The Lady and her two daughters were most kind, and generally, they amused him.
“Ah, there you are.”
Black Bear brought his gaze back and to his left, where, looking through the tall shrubs, he espied the Duke of Colchester, standing on yet another balcony.
But the Duke wasn’t talking to Black Bear, he was speaking to another, whom Black Bear could not see.
Black Bear crouched down. He listened.
“What have you determined?” It was the Duke who spoke.
“Not very much, Your Grace.”
He heard the Duke of Colchester sigh.
“We look for the housekeeper. No one knows where that lady has gone. She might even be dead,” he heard another voice say. “All others are gone or are dead—some very recently.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And how did they die?”
“A knife, Your Grace. A bullet. A sword. The usual.”
“And all recently, you say?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
There was a pause and Black Bear strained forward to hear.
“Jolly inconvenient, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Well, keep at it, I say. There must be someone left from the Earl’s old estate who would remember her. Someone who might remember—what? A manner of address.” Here the Duke paused. “Did they call her ‘Lady’ or did they call her ‘Your Highness?’ Do you see? Such a thing would hint at her heritage. There must be something.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“There, there, now. Just keep looking, keep investigating. Not a word to the others, now.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Jolly good. You may go.”
And as Black Bear looked over to the other balcony, he saw a dim shadow move toward and through the doors.
You may go. The phrase ran round and round Black Bear’s mind. It was the same one he’d heard Waste Ho utter on many occasions. And what was a manner of address? Your Highness or Lady? What did it mean?
The Duke of Colchester knew som
ething and Black Bear determined that soon, he too, would have that same knowledge.
It was a pledge.
What did she do?
Black Bear stared out onto the dance floor some time later.
There stood Waste Ho dressed in her white gown, looking good, looking beautiful. But she had paused in the middle of the room, in the center of the dancers.
Other dancers swirled around her in a circle, some looking at her, most ignoring her.
She didn’t notice. She gazed around the room, but her glance alit upon nothing, and Black Bear could only wonder what she did. Then he saw it.
A round, black box, in the middle of the floor.
She knelt beside it gradually, setting an arrow down along one side of it and a knife on the other.
And Black Bear could not believe what his eyesight demanded was true.
It could not be. It was not possible.
She was married. Hadn’t she admitted it herself?
What was she about? Was she trying to bring the spirits down upon her with her lies? Didn’t she know it didn’t matter to him? She didn’t have to risk all to lie to him.
He took a deep breath.
This was for his benefit; no one else would understand the ceremony. He had best step forward and stop her now. It was either that or accuse her for the liar she was.
Or was she?
He took a quick glance around him to ensure that there was no danger to her, at least for the moment. And then, cautiously, silently, Black Bear moved out and away from the shadows.
Estrela was tired. She was angry and upset. He had accused her of harboring loose morals and of infidelity one too many times.
Well, no more; Black Bear would learn the truth. It was something she had decided after that breakfast so many weeks ago. Black Bear might not listen to her, he might think she spoke with a two-sided tongue, but he could not, he would not ignore the contest she held, the virgin ceremony.
It was a direct challenge to Black Bear. Estrela knew he would not be able to set aside what the ceremony proclaimed. For the contest she held, the virgin ceremony, was a solemn oath, a pledge of chastity. And no Lakota maiden participated in it lightly. It was believed that if she claimed she were pure and were not, disaster would befall her.
Estrela set the round box in the middle of the dance floor, the arrow on the right, the knife on the left.
She knelt before it and placing her hand in the box, she prepared to wait.
“Oh, Black Bear, do you dance?”
“I saw him first.”
“Here, Black Bear, I have a note for you. Will you please read it in private and give me an answer?”
“Oh, my, but I would like to talk with you.”
“Do you like English society?”
“However did you come to be here?”
Black Bear stopped at last, taking stock of the fact that he could go no farther. He was surrounded by women, many of them. Not an uncommon occurrence of late.
He sighed. He had to reach Waste Ho before she did damage to herself unnecessarily. Did these women have nothing better to do but to cater to him as a novelty? It was becoming a wearisome, daily task to simply deflect their attentions without at the same time doing great damage to their pride. And Black Bear feared that he might, at some future date, be too truthfully honest, hurting beyond repair the poor lady to whom he might vent his frustration.
“Oh, here, sign my dance book, won’t you?” A young lady shoved a book at him and Black Bear jumped back, out of the way.
“I cannot write,” he said to the dear, young girl, giving her back her book.
“Won’t you dance with me?”
“I cannot dance,” he rejoined with a shrug.
“Come and speak with me, won’t you?”
He smiled. “Forgive me, but I…do not…language…speak…not good.”
“Well, won’t you come and have some dinner with us?”
“I do not eat…no, I did not mean… I—”
“Do you women want husbands overmuch, that you cannot leave my brother alone?”
Black Bear, startled, glanced up. And had he been anything but American Indian, he would have grinned. All he did, however, was stare, although in his eyes was a light of warm recognition.
“Oh, my!”
“Bless me!”
“Oh, tush!”
Black Bear heard the feminine gasps and its many equivalents repeated again and again as he watched the three men on the outskirts of the circle of females.
He smiled at last. There, directly before him stood his two Lakota friends, accompanied by the German Prince, who was waving and attempting, even at this moment, to shove his way forward.
“Excuse me, dear lady,” he heard the Prince say. “Pardon me. I beg your… Oh, dear me, aren’t you a beauty?”
Prince Frederick, Prince of a small, but influential German duchy edged his way through the group, bowing frequently and coming to stand by Black Bear. “Took me a long time to find you, friend,” he said under his breath.
Black Bear merely looked at the man, saying nothing, observing the necessary silence that was considered good manners among the Indians. At length he said, “I have been occupied.”
Prince Frederick leered at the ladies before turning to his friend, to say, “So I see.”
Black Bear might have laughed, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded to his two other friends over the heads of the ladies present.
“Oh, there’s more of them, look!”
“I get this one.”
“Do you dance?”
“Will you tell me all about where you are from?”
The crowd soon expanded, circling and enclosing not only Black Bear, but the other two Indians and one German Prince.
“However did you meet all these ladies?” the Prince asked Black Bear.
Black Bear grunted. “I did not want this.”
“Shows what taste you have.”
“Yes,” Black Bear said. “It does. And, friend…” he stressed the word, and in the tradition of their easygoing bantering said, “…your comment tells me much about your love life.”
“Ouch!”
“Pray, this one is more handsome than the other.”
“I daresay, look at this fine fellow.”
“Bless me, look at their clothes.”
Black Bear glanced over to his friends and smiled. It was good to be momentarily forgotten and spared the attentions that he had been battling daily.
He Topa, Four Horns, the first of his friends, attempted to draw away from one of the ladies; he bumped into another. Wasute Sni, Never Misses a Shot, Black Bear’s cousin, frowned, but it didn’t daunt the young women he frowned at, not one bit.
Black Bear grinned, unsympathetically staring at his friends.
And he heard the ensuing battle, listened to one of his friend’s say, “I think you mistake me for someone I am not. I have no need of a wife.”
“Oh! You are not married yet?”
“I…” It was He Topa who spoke. “Speak not…language…not good. Not good…all.”
Another lady laid her hand on Wasute Sni, saying, “Why, my dear fellow, you look positively kissable.”
Wasute Sni had always been much more the rake than his two friends. He looked down at the lady now as she spoke and smiled, saying, “You may try it, if you like.”
The young lady giggled. “Oh, my!”
She kissed him.
Another lady saw it and did the same, another and another.
“Ladies, ladies,” Prince Frederick addressed the procession of women. “Can’t you tell how tired these young fellows are?” And, in Lakota, to the two Indians, “Look tired both of you.” Then to the ladies, “Have pity upon us, please. We have just arrived here from London. Must you ply them,” he continued, “with kisses and hugs and pleas for their attention?”
The Prince glanced at a smiling Wasute Sni, who bore all the unmistakable evidence of rouge and lipstick smeared ove
r his face. The Prince simply smiled, muttering, “Perhaps I should rephrase that question to the ladies.”
“I want him to dance with me.”
“I want to kiss him.”
“Here, let me.”
“No, no. Ladies, ladies,” Prince Frederick interceded. “We are greatly fatigued. And we must go immediately to bed.”
“Oh, I’ll accompany you.”
“Let me. I’ll take you. I know where the rooms are.”
“An, that was not my plan,” the Prince said.
“Mayhap I should…ah…restate that.” Prince Frederick looked around him. “Wasute Sni, get that grin off your face. He Topa, grab your friend. We must—”
“What does she do?” It was Black Bear who spoke, Black Bear who roared, “Does she not realize the chance she takes?”
Prince Frederick looked up then, Black Bear’s questions being more command than question.
“What is it?” the Prince asked, abandoning the other two to their fate and retracing his steps back toward Black Bear.
“My friend,” the Prince said, “have you found her? Was she the one who I hear you rescued? The one all the rumors are circling about?”
Black Bear nodded.
“Which lady is she?”
Black Bear merely inclined his head in the direction of the dance floor.
The Prince looked, squinted, looked again. “I am no more enlightened than I was before, my friend. You will have to be more specific. There are too many people dancing for me to tell—”
The Prince broke off. Black Bear wasn’t listening. He was already moving away toward the middle of the dance floor, and as Prince Frederick watched him go, he wondered what was wrong with Black Bear.
He looked as though he’d seen a ghost.
She saw his approach.
Her stomach plummeted at the sight and she almost lost her courage. Almost. But she had gone this far; she would go the entire journey.
He would know the truth.
She watched him as he came ever closer. She ignored the other women as they tried to pull him aside. They were not important here. This was between the two of them, her and Black Bear, alone.