by Edith Layton
Eve looked around as she descended the stairs, as amazed as she was delighted with her first real duty as hostess. The last conceit they’d thought of was to make the houseguests leave the house through the back door and come in again through the main door, so that they’d appear like visions let in from the magical night. And a spectacular night they had for it too: cool and clear, the sky hung with stars and a bone white moon.
Sherry was the only guest who awaited them in the hall, because he was the only family member there. Eve covered her mouth with her hand when she saw him.
Aubrey took a reeling step back, as though he’d been dealt a mortal blow, and hung there, looking astonished and theatrically pale, one hand against his heart. His shock was so convincing that for an instant Eve couldn’t tell if he were genuinely ill or just pretending. She only relaxed when she saw him stand up straight again.
Sheridan bowed. With difficulty. He creaked, because he was dressed in a suit of armor. “I thought this would be great fun,” Sherry said, somewhat hollowly.
“It’s a good way to stay away from Lucinda’s sister,” Eve said, also with difficulty, because she was trying not to howl with laughter.
“Yes,” Aubrey said, still pale and coming no closer to Sheridan. “All that iron does make it impossible to cuddle. But it is a wonderful way to stay away from all other females too. Where did you find that…machine you’re wearing? Not in the attics here, certainly.”
A groan came from the helmet of the suit. “No. I rented it from a shop in London. It seemed like a good idea at the time. You don’t have to pretend to be so horrified, Aubrey. I hate it too. Can you wait until I get upstairs and change before you let the guests in? I want to be on the reception line with you, meeting everyone firsthand and all.”
“You’ve met most of the guests staying here, or know them from London,” his sister said. “But we do have some guests coming from the village too.”
“Do we?” Aubrey asked.
“Of course,” Eve said smugly. “I got the names from Mrs. Hood. We’ve the vicar coming, Squire Thompson and his family, Mrs. Culpepper and her three daughters, and some others. All the girls are charming and lovely, by the way, Sherry, or so Mrs. Hood says. Their families have been here for years. I’ve asked other local gentry I can’t remember right now. It would be rude not to have them, Aubrey, don’t you think?”
“I think it was rude for them not to ask us to their homes first,” Aubrey said. “But I know little about modern manners. I suppose it’s time I got to know.”
“Please wait for me,” Sherry pleaded. “I have a Robin Hood sort of get-up in my room too. My valet suggested it if I grew weary of this…walking mausoleum. Gads! How did they fight in these things?”
“Carefully,” Aubrey said. He waved a hand and drew further back from Sheridan, as though he smelled like a tin of old fish. “Go. We’ll wait. Hurry, if you can.”
The suit of armor clanked stiffly to the stair. Sheridan’s valet was already standing there, waiting to help his master decant himself.
Eve giggled. “You didn’t have to act so appalled, Aubrey, although it was funny. He couldn’t stand it himself.”
Aubrey smiled, wanly. “I was just trying to save his life.”
She looked at him oddly.
“He would have suffocated in there,” Aubrey said. “Or starved.”
Sheridan rushed downstairs a few moments later, resplendent in scarlet and green, a Robin Hood from the jaunty feather atop his cocked slouchy hat to the tips of his pointed shoes. He took his place next to his sister and her husband. The ballroom stood ready; the musicians hired for the evening sat behind bowers of ferns and flowers and tuned their instruments.
It was a cool night, not a cold one, but the guests could be heard complaining about the chill as they lined up outside, at the front door.
“They only walked from the back of the house,” Eve said.
“They’re hothouse flowers,” Aubrey said. He signaled to the two footmen by the front door. “Allow our guests entry,” he said, and stood waiting.
They rushed in like autumn leaves blown by a gale, a colorful crowd of Halloween party-goers, eager to greet their host, ogle his new bride, marvel again at the wonders of Far Isle Hall, and show off their costumes. They were such a colorful collection that it took Eve a few minutes to sort them out in her mind, much less recognize them. Unlike the masquerades she’d been to in London, this crowd of guests seemed to stay with a certain rustic theme. There were fewer diamonds and jewels and more feathers and fur to be seen this night. It seemed that the history of the place had influenced some of them too.
There were milkmaids and goose girls, serving wenches and princesses, all of whom wore costumes that showed tantalizing glimpses of ankles and more than glimpses of bosoms. Gentlemen dressed as princes, looking to waken sleeping princesses or ready to discover princesses in disguise as goose girls, were there in plenty. Sherry wasn’t the only Robin Hood, by far. He and his merry men were well represented this night. There were many portly elder gentlemen dressed as good Friar Tuck, and not a few rakish middleaged fellows preening and leering as they played at being the wicked Sheriff of Nottingham. Patient wives favored medieval costumes to match the merry band.
More basic folklore was given a bow as well, to judge from the many Morris Men and Druidical get-ups. Some guests wore amusing owl or hawk heads. Some wore fox heads and tails, others wore hound’s heads and tails, and when they spied each other they pretended to chase each other into the ballroom.
As a final bow to the spirit of the night, the butler announced them as what they were dressed as tonight, rather than their true names, which led to more merriment. There was laughter and barking, baying and giggling as the crowd went one by one to meet their hosts and ogle the Hall.
“Now this,” Sherry said with enthusiasm as the last guests were introduced, “is going to be some party!”
And so it was, or at least the best one Eve had ever attended.
“I’m not used to being the center of attention,” she confided to Aubrey at one point. “If this was an ordinary ball, I don’t think I could stand all the scrutiny. But everyone is so keen on staring at each other to see who’s wearing what, that I don’t feel uncomfortable at all.”
“You don’t see how many are admiring you because you don’t expect to,” Aubrey said.
She shook her head. She wasn’t an ingénue or a fool. She knew to the last decimal how many balls she’d attended before she’d met him. She’d been popular, in a quiet sort of way. She was well liked, but she’d never been a sensation. He was the one who had made her fashionable. She’d never forget the night they’d met. He’d stunned her by his presence. Now she realized that the fact that he’d singled her out had not only stunned her, but the fashionable world even more.
Now, as host and hostess, they began the ball by dancing a waltz together.
“This is a grand success, isn’t it?” she whispered to Aubrey.
“Grand,” he said, smiling.
“The food at dinner should be good, the ballroom isn’t too warm, the guests are enjoying themselves,” she said. “And just look at Sherry, will you? He did the right thing and is dancing with Grace. Good for him.”
“I imagine he knows there are a bevy of other young girls waiting to be singled out by him next,” Aubrey commented with a chuckle.
“Oh, good!” she said again, and danced, and laughed, and thought there was no woman in all England luckier than she. She had a loving husband, who just happened to be the most handsome man in the world. She had a beautiful home, and her dreams of a blissful future were becoming daily more than just dreams now. They danced, he held her tenderly, and gave her up with a comical show of resentment when she had to go to new partners in the country dances. She couldn’t be happier.
As host and hostess, they danced with their guests too, and it was with relief that she came into Aubrey’s arms again for another waltz just before dinner.
He smiled down at her, all his pleasure in his eyes, along with all sorts of promises of future pleasure.
And despite all her experience, she blushed. “Look at Sherry,” she said, to change the mood, because it would be hours before she could be in his arms in their bed together tonight. “He’s the belle of the ball. He’s danced with every wall-flower, every unknown, and every diamond too. He’s behaving just as he ought. And now look at him. Oh my!”
She stared at her brother as he waltzed by with a beauty in his arms. The woman was so exquisite that Eve almost lost her step in the dance. She didn’t have to worry. She kept to the right steps. Aubrey was the one who didn’t. He stopped and stared.
Eve saw her husband’s dark eyes grow darker with rage. His fair complexion grew white. He dropped his hands from her and knotted his fists at his side. “How dare she?” he whispered fiercely, but it seemed to Eve that he spoke to himself.
“Who? What is it?” she asked, confused.
He didn’t answer her. He took her back, and continued dancing, but though she was in his arms, he might have been miles away. He didn’t stop looking at the exquisite woman Sheridan danced with.
Sherry stared at his partner, also transfixed, but he was obviously rapturous. And with cause, Eve thought. The woman wore a green gown with a gauzy silver overskirt that floated as she danced. She had long flowing golden hair tied up with flowers and then left to cascade to her creamy shoulders. Her eyebrows were thin dark gold arcs over her small black eye mask, her nose small and straight. Her lips, red as autumn leaves, showed off the perfection of a camellia-petal complexion. She was all grace, and her curved yet slender figure was all that was alluring. And when she laughed, which she did often, it sounded like lovely bells chiming in the wind. In fact, Eve thought in alarm, the woman looked like Aubrey’s perfect consort: dark and light, grace matched with grace, and beauty triumphant. They had the same instant appeal. It was as though she should be the mistress of the Hall.
“Who is she?” Eve asked, watching her.
Aubrey said nothing; he only kept staring, now expressionless, at the woman in Sherry’s arms.
Eve grew cold. Could this beautiful creature be an old love of his? Or was she someone he still wished were his lover? Had he lost her, or was he finding her tonight? Eve couldn’t wait for the music to stop so she could know. And yet she never wanted the music to stop, because she suddenly didn’t want to know the truth. Her dream had been too delicious, she had celebrated it too much; this was, she thought, the end of vanity, and such impossible rosy dreams as she’d been having.
The music finally ceased and the musicians rested. Servants rolled the doors to the dining salon open. Long tables covered with steaming dishes filled with savory treats could be seen. A buffet dinner was being served.
The guests poured into the dining salon, some removing their masks so they could eat, and some keeping them on, obviously able to dine through them, or wanting to keep their appearances secret until midnight in traditional fashion. Aubrey and Eve waited at the doors to the salon, watching their guests enter. Aubrey maintained a statue-like stance until Sherry and his lovely partner approached.
Then, at last, Aubrey moved, and spoke. He laid a hand on the woman’s arm. “I did not expect to see you,” he told her icily.
She stopped, looked up at him and laughed. “Why not?”
“I don’t recall your being invited,” he said harshly.
Eve and Sherry looked at each other. This didn’t sound like the Aubrey they knew.
“What?” the woman laughed. “But of course I was invited.” Her tilted eyes slewed toward Eve. “I had to meet your bride. So sorry I couldn’t come to the wedding. But she is a darling!” Beneath the mask beautiful eyes narrowed a fraction. Eve felt cold as the woman studied her.
Then the woman smiled. “Of course, I see now. It makes perfect sense. I hope she’s as good for you as she seems to be. Oh! Where are my manners?” she cried in a bright voice. “My dear child. I am your sister-in-law, Aubrey’s sister, Arianna. I live afar, but nothing could keep me from returning home for this occasion. Welcome to the family, Eve. Have you met any of Aubrey’s other relatives?”
“Why, no,” Eve managed to say, looking up at Aubrey.
His face was tight, his eyes cold. He never stopped staring at his sister.
“Well, you may meet some, or many, tonight,” Arianna said, laughing. “Or none at all. They do dearly love a disguise, and who can say if they’ll reveal themselves tonight? Now, I am famished. Sherry, my sweet, wilt thou take me in to eat?” She laughed again.
Sherry bobbed his head, transfixed by her. “Of course,” he said.
“I’ll see you later, my dear little sister,” Arianna told Eve. She looked down meaningfully at her arm. “So overcome with emotion, Aubrey, that you forget your manners? You hold me back? How comes this? Or do you not want me to dine at your table?”
Aubrey looked down at the hand he still had on his sister’s arm as though he had forgotten it. He drew his hand back. He bowed. “I will certainly see you later,” he said coldly.
Arianna and Sherry went into the salon.
Eve stood frozen. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister? Why wasn’t she at the wedding? Where does she live?”
Aubrey let out a breath. “There’s much to tell. Too much for here and now. Later, please.” And he led her into the dining salon.
Eve ate without tasting and listened to her guests without hearing them. She watched Sherry and Aubrey’s sister. Sherry was fascinated. Aubrey saw the direction of Eve’s gaze.
“That would not be a good match,” he said, as though he saw Eve again for the first time. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it comes to nothing.”
“Why wouldn’t it be a good match?” Eve asked.
“First of all she is…she is much too old for him,” he said, and smiled, but there was no humor in it. He saw Eve’s expression of confusion and doubt. “My sister and I don’t get along. We don’t see each other for years on end,” he went on in that curiously humorous, humorless voice. “She travels widely, changing her name with her lovers. Now it amuses her to be ‘Arianna.’ I’ve known her by other names. She travels the worlds for amusement, and to make mischief.”
“The world,” Eve corrected him.
“Ah, yes, the world,” he said. “Now she’s here, and obviously amused to play at being a concerned sister. She is not. She will not be.” He turned and looked at her keenly. “One thing I must ask you to vow to me, and now, Eve. I may have been wrong not to mention her. My only excuse is that the mere mention of her brings me pain. Forgive me. But do not meet with her alone, or when I am not there. Ever. Can you swear to this, for me?”
Eve nodded. “Yes, I’ll try, but why?”
“Because she’s treacherous. Because she means you no good. Because,” he said, with effort, as he watched Eve’s face, “the plain truth is she wants to be mistress of this Hall, and that she can never be. Not while I live.”
“Or I do,” Eve said suddenly, her eyes widening.
“Precisely,” he said. He shook his head. “Just look at you. And listen to me! I’ve ruined the party for you. Don’t let that happen. This is all merely family matters, my love. Disregard it all, except for your promise to me. Let’s continue to be merry, be a good host and hostess, and let the rest of the world spin on as it may. I’ll protect you; I’ll keep you safe from spite or ambition. Believe me.”
She did. “But what other relatives did she mean?” Eve persisted. “Do you have other relatives here? Do you get on with none of them?
“I get on with many of them,” he said. “I have seen none at all tonight. My sister likes to be mysterious. She loves to lie. And now,” he said, “let us forget her. And then when the dancing begins again, I have to find all the Ellas sitting by the cinders, and dance with them, and pretend they’re all you I’m dancing with at the masquera
de where we met.”
“But what am I to do?” she asked. “In order for me to recapture the moment, I have to dance with the most handsome man in the room, and that was, and is, you.”
“So then,” he said reasonably, “when the music starts again, dance with me.”
“But we’re host and hostess, we do have duties and we have danced.”
“And will again, and again. Come, see,” he said, taking her hand and rising. The strains of a waltz began as the musicians began to play. “Recapture some magic with me.”
They rose and returned to the dance. Eve forgot the guests, his sister, and her cares as she moved with him and smiled up into his eyes. She was startled and a little lost when the music finally stopped. She stood next to him, swaying, loathe to leave his hands.
“What shall I do now?” she whispered hoarsely.
“I know what I should like you to do,” he said in her ear. “But you’re right. Duty calls. Go dance with your brother. Tell him my sister has fleas. Tell him worse and better, as you please. Now, we’ll go to amuse ourselves, and make this night memorable for more than meetings ill met.”
“And your sister?”
“And I’ll speak to her too.”
“Is she staying the night?” Eve asked, suddenly remembering her duties as hostess. “I can have another bedchamber made up for her.”
“No, and never,” Aubrey said. “Neither she nor I want that.”
“But where will she stay? Whatever she is, we can’t turn her out on the road in the night.”
“She has her friends, everywhere,” Aubrey said. “Never worry about her.”
“Shall I worry about you?” she asked seriously.
He smiled, and touched her cheek. “Never,” he said.
But she did.
Chapter 11