No one would be expecting Victoria to be up for another two hours, at least. She could not honestly recall a time that she had ever been up this early, and because of this she had no inkling as to whether Polly was up to be called for or not, and Victoria didn’t want to wake her up if she was still in bed. Polly worked hard and deserved her rest. With her mind cleared after writing down what she needed to say, Victoria realized that the morning air was chilly and the glow of the embers in the fireplace was diminishing. Being a novice fire starter it took a good while to build the warmth back up, which frustrated Victoria because Polly always made it seem so easy. You would think that if it were so difficult to start a fire then someone would have taught her how to do this at one point in time. She supposed no one ever imagined her in a situation where she would not have a servant to do it for her, though. Eventually, Victoria was able to have a little blaze radiating warmth back into her room.
Victoria felt a sense of pride as she pulled her high back chair close to the fire that she had revived. She took up her needlepoint, Victoria sat there in the warming glow of her fire and embroidered away the time dawn hours. Tunes from the sing-a-long at Caherbrennan the day before filled her head and she hummed them quietly so as not to wake Samantha in the next room. She felt more light spirited and alive with hope than she had in a long while. By the time that she heard the other members of the house begin to stir, Victoria had completed the petals of two flowers. She was eager to finish this piece because she planned on giving it to Samantha as a Christmas gift.
Mrs. De’Muerre surprised the family at breakfast when she announced that she wanted to throw a fall ball in honor of the bountiful harvest that they were reaping and to honor their new neighbors. “They have welcomed us all so hospitably to their home in town and then they hosted you girls for a picnic. It is our turn now.”
Both sisters began talking excitedly and planning the whole event in great detail, rapidly throwing out questions to their mother and barking requests for this food to be served and this song to be played. Mr. De’Muerre sighed and cupped his chin in the palm of his hand with his elbow situated upon the table. His eyes rolled to the ceiling as his girls continued to chatter on in their shrill, excited voices.
“Just one boy, that’s all I asked for,” he moaned throwing his hands up to the ceiling. “One boy that I could bore the women with as we discuss the intricacies of farming with great detail the way these women discuss their parties.” It broke through into the girls’ conversation. The sisters and their mother all began to hoot in laughter at their father’s vexation.
Victoria walked over to where her father sat. “Oh, poor daddy! You know you love us though,” she said as she stood behind her father’s chair and wrapped her arms around his neck in a quick hug.
“I don’t know. We will see how much this little soiree of yours is going to cost me, then we will see how much I love you or not.”
The next two weeks passed in a flurry. That was all the time that they had to prepare, since it had been decided that the party would be held on October 31, or All Hallows’ Eve and it was to be a masquerade ball. Hosting parties and festivals on All Hallows’ Eve was becoming very fashionable, apparently, and the De’Muerres had to do anything that was on the cutting edge of trend setting. Next year, no doubt, everyone would want to throw a party on the week of All Hallows’ Eve. Invitations were sent to their usual circle and everyone accepted, including the Worthingtons. It was rare for anyone to decline an invite from the De’Muerres. It was simply not done if you wished to remain a part of the upper-crust Louisianan society.
Victoria sat at her dressing table reading the letters from Wesley. He had sent her one letter a day since she had penned him two weeks ago. Most of the letters consisted of just simple things about his everyday life and tending to the plantation and completing the construction of Caherbrennan. There were no flowery or poetic words of love, but simple as they were, Victoria cherished them. She liked that Wesley indulged her with these tidbits of his life. It showed her that he wanted to share it with her and he admired her intelligence enough to realize that just because she was a woman did not mean that she was too bird-brained to understand the going-ons of a farm and that meant more to her than any beautiful, but meaningless, words ever would.
Occasionally his letters did become more personal as he discussed his hopes for the future and his desire for a wife to stand at his side, to be his partner as they took on the world together his letter had said. Victoria liked that, too. He believed that women were equal, but she knew from experience that he also saw it as his duty to take care of his women. Victoria blushed as she recalled the way it felt to be held in his arms while she sat across his lap and buried into him for warmth that night in New Orleans. She concluded that she had definitely had felt well cared for then. He never failed to promise to pen another letter in just a little while and each letter was signed Faithfully Yours, exactly how he had signed his first note to her.
“Oh, do sit up Miss,” Polly scolded and gave a tug on Victoria’s chemise. “You are not making this very easy.” Victoria opened her eyes and realized that she had all but swooned. She was leaned forward against her dressing table and holding the letters to her bosom as if by doing so she were squeezing Wesley in a tight hug.
Samantha snickered from across the room where she sat at her table and Hannah was meticulously pinning hairs to create a glamorous cascade of curls. “Oh do hush up,” Victoria turned and hissed at her sister. She obediently sat straight for Polly once more. Polly wove thin pink ribbons into Victoria’s hot iron curls.
Both girls were actually sitting very comfortably since they had forgone the extreme tightening of their corsets for the first time since their cotillions. The corsets were only tightened to the everyday size, which was just enough to keep everything in place. Ever since the conversation that the sisters had with the Brennan boys on their picnic, Victoria and Samantha had decided that they shouldn’t have to pretend to be any skinnier than they already were and they shouldn’t have to pretend not to be hungry just because they have no room to eat because their stays are too tight. Unfortunately, they couldn’t just not wear corsets altogether, though that would be ideal, it would be extremely indecent, since then there would be nothing but fine fabric separating their bodies from the view of all, or heaven forbid the hands of a dance partner should graze across their uncorseted bodies!
Victoria thought about this idea. It suddenly did not sound half-bad, actually. Oh, it would be so brazen of her to do so. Am I brave enough? she asked herself. Before she could chicken out, she stood up. “Ouch!” in standing so quickly, Victoria had caused Polly to pull her hair. Polly stood looking at her mistress in confusion. “Polly, remove my corset. I shall not wear it tonight.”
Polly looked at her mistress in utter bewilderment. “Oh, Mistress Victoria, you kid with Polly,” and she began to laugh.
Victoria placed her hands on her hips. “No, Polly, I am serious. I will not wear my corset. I no longer wish to bind myself. I want to have fun! Besides, as Sam has pointed out to me before, my waist is already as tiny as the other girls’ waists after they tighten their stays.”
Samantha stood then. “Yes, Hannah, I too shall go uncorseted tonight!”
Unable to dissuade their charges, Hannah and Polly begrudgingly removed the corsets and finished the girls’ hair before helping them into their outfits. Victoria would be wearing a very daring dark pink gown with black lace, black petticoats, and black gloves, all custom made for this masquerade. Her mask was also made of black lace and was studded with black jewels. Strands of the black jewels even dangled from the bottom part of the mask, tickling her cheeks. She fully intended to make Mr. Brennan find her completely irresistible this evening. Samantha was going for a much more subtle feminine look. Her gown was lavender with cream-colored lace and was swathed in ruffles and bows. Her mask tied about her head with lavender ribbon and had ornate bird feathers along the edges.
; The guests were already arriving but due to the nature of the masquerade theme, the sisters were not required to attend in the receiving of the guests as no introductions were made. Guests simply presented their vouchers upon their arrival. The fun of a masquerade was the anonymity of the participants. Cider was being served and children were running about haphazardly with trills of childish giggling trailing behind them as they fought for turns at the bobbing for apples game. Dinner would be served shortly after a decent time had passed to allow for mingling and for straggling arrivals.
Victoria and Samantha glided hand in hand down the curved staircase that led out to the foyer. Though some guests stood about in the foyer, the sisters were not worried that being seen walking down the stairs would give away their identities because many of their female guests would excuse their selves to go up and powder their noses or take care of other inevitabilities throughout the night. A house slave stopped and offered the sisters some cider, which they accepted. They stood there in the foyer chuckling at the antics of some of the children who were bobbing for apples in the connecting parlor. The young boy who was currently attempting to grab an apple was still very young, probably five, and he was drenched from the top of his corn silk hair to the midsection of his white starched shirt.
The sisters wandered off after his determination finally paid off and he managed to capture an apple, which he produced proudly from the barrel with a triumphant cheer. Samantha and Victoria strategized amongst themselves what they thought the best approach would be to locate the Brennan brothers. The sisters entered the ballroom. The kaleidoscope of colors that swirled about the room assaulted their eyes as they took in the dancers. Even the men, who usually stuck to the basic black, white, grey, blue, or brown combinations, were decked out to be dazzling dandies representing every color of the rainbow. After allowing their brains a few moments to recover from the overstimulation, the sisters began to walk around the outskirts of the ballroom. They pointed out to each other the random people that they could recognize under their masks. By the time dinner was announced, however, the sisters still had not spotted the Brennan boys.
Children were shooed away from the adults by mammies who would see to it that the youngsters would receive their own dinners and then be sent off to bed. For the adults, dinner was served in a buffet style allowing guests to choose their own food and their own seats. Hundreds of candles and a roaring fire lit the room with a red glow. Food was spread out in an ostentatious display upon a table, draped in black fabric, which spanned the length of the room. Cooksey once again did the De’Muerres proud with her demonstration of culinary skill including: pork, fried chicken, roasted potatoes, corn on the cob, biscuits, boiled shrimp and crawfish, exotic fruits and vegetables, as well as an innumerable choice of desserts and beverages. Keeping with the fall theme, fall flowers, nuts, and pumpkins were displayed decoratively about on the buffet table, peeking out alongside the various dishes.
Small intimate round tables, also draped in black, were set up to accommodate four each. These tables each boasted a four-tiered candelabrum that sat center on a base of more fall flowers. Musicians played from a balcony high above the room. A giant golden opulent chandelier hung from the center of the tall, ornate ceiling. The sisters chose a table near the center of the eating area believing that it would give them the best view of the guests that circulated about. Halfway through their dinner, two men stopped in front of the sisters’ table. Victoria grinned at them. The men bowed silently and then sat in the unoccupied seats.
One man was dressed in powdered blue velvet and the other in a dusty rose. They both wore rather ridiculous hats that were over embellished. Victoria felt her heartbeat return to its normal pace as she began to suspect that these were not the Brennan boys. One man began to speak and her suspicions were confirmed, as his accent was that of the usual boring Louisiana dialect with no hint of brogue. The men talked of the possibilities of secession from the Union should Abraham Lincoln be elected President in the upcoming election. The men bragged of how they would be valiant soldiers if the time came to fight in a war with the North.
Samantha and Victoria had lost their appetite due to their unwanted companions and their apparent lack of respect for the possible lives that would be lost if the states did go to war. These men, unfortunately, were not the only men who could talk of nothing but the politics and threat of war. Victoria and Samantha overheard that topic of conversation more often this night than they cared to think about. The sisters racked their brains individually attempting to create a diversion or another means of escape. It wasn’t that they were not interested in politics and the effects that the election may have on their own lives, despite the fact that women could not vote, it was just that this was a party, and they did not want to think of such things and waste the celebratory atmosphere. Sadly, the dinner hour ended without the sisters managing to escape the war-obsessed dandies. The two men escorted the sisters back into the ballroom area where the dance was commencing.
Before they even knew what was happening both Samantha and Victoria were being swept across the ballroom in a quadrille. It came time in the dance routine for all the dancers to change partners. Victoria approached her new dance partner, without paying him much heed. He wore solid black, including his mask. The mask was intricate though with fleurs-de-lis interwoven into swivels that adorned the mask. Victoria and her new partner held their hands up to one another without touching and turned about in a circle, then sashayed to the left then the right. Just before it came time to switch partners once more, she heard him say, “You are an enchanting dance partner, Mavourneen.”
Victoria gasped and looked back to him, but he was gone on to the next dance partner she assumed, though she was unable to spot him. Once the dance ended, she rushed to her sister, and they both exclaimed, “I found him!” then they giggled. They began their search again, at least knowing this time what the brothers were wearing. With no luck after two songs had been played, the sisters decided to take a break. If the Brennan boys were interested, then they could come and find them, they were no longer going to be the pursuers, it wasn’t lady-like after all, you know. The sisters decided to play one of the games that their friends were participating in down the hall in a dark parlor.
It was a game in divination for young unmarried ladies that had to be played in a darkly lit room. The young women would say a little incantation and hold up a hand mirror. The mirror was supposed to show the face of their future husband. It was Victoria’s turn now. She took up the mirror in one hand and a candle in the other. “Spirits whom here reside, it is time now for you to guide, my future husband that is to be, bring him now to me, and his image illuminate in this mirror for all to see.” Then there he was; his black masked image appeared in the mirror behind her shoulder. He smiled his devilish smile. Victoria inhaled sharply, for she had been skeptical to the authenticity of this game and its valid results. She turned about abruptly.
“Did you see that? Was he here? Where did he go?” She asked the girls who stood around in the room or lay sprawled out in chaise loungers awaiting their turn.
“What is it, Tory? Are you alright?” Her friends gathered about her.
“He appeared in the mirror! Didn’t you see him?”
“Oh really, Tory. You know this is just a game.”
“Yes, of course,” she sighed reluctantly. She was still not entirely convinced that she had not seen him. “Let’s go back to the ballroom, Sam,” she urged.
Victoria had barely entered the room when she was seized by a pair of arms and found herself waltzing across the floor. She should have known it was him, during that first dance, before he had spoken to her. Sparks flew between them as they danced and Victoria could feel tingles where their bodies touched. She inhaled his scent, that intoxicating combination of earth and sea which made her think of Ireland for some reason. Maybe it was just because that is where he was from, but each time she smelled it she pictured him wandering along a rocky cliff,
looking out to the ocean. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” she told him.
His lips turned up into that devilish grin of his and his brown eyes melted into molten chocolate. “Is that so? Why would that be doll? Have we met before? Surely I could never forget a lovely lady such as yourself.”
She smacked him on the arm. “Cut it out Wesley, I know it is you.”
“I’m sorry but who is this Wesley that you speak of? He must be a fine specimen of a man if you have been searching for him so frantically all evening.”
“Eh, he’s alright I guess.” Two can play this game, she thought. “Nothing that special though.”
Wesley sputtered, “Alright? Alright? I’ll show you alright.” He grabbed her hand and led her off of the dance floor. He scanned their surroundings making sure that no one was paying too close attention to them. He continued on, leading Victoria out of the ballroom and onto the veranda. Glancing around once more to make sure that they were alone, he swung Victoria around to face him, clasped her face in his two hands, and kissed her. Hard.
A kindling fire ignited deep within each of them as their lips interlocked. The spark that they felt was magnetic making it impossible for Wesley and Victoria to draw apart from each other. Wesley’s thumbs traced down the sides of Victoria’s cheeks and he drew her in closer. Their lips parted and Victoria gave a small gasp as she felt Wesley’s tongue lick her bottom lip. The jewels that hung from Victoria’s mask added another level to the sensory overload that she was experiencing from this kiss as they tickled her cheek with each ebbing and flowing motion of the kiss. This kiss deepened and grew more fervent as their hands explored one another. “Why, Miss De’Muerre… You are not wearing a corset!” Wesley mused in between kisses and they both grinned as their lips returned to their erotic dance once more. Wesley backed Victoria up to lean against the shadowed wall of the house. Wesley’s hands became more adventurous and Victoria suddenly understood why society was so adamant in the need for women to wear corsets. The way his hands felt on her, now that there was no corset to provide as a barrier, was absolutely sinful.
The Possessive Kiss: Victoria's Story: Book Two of The Kiss Series Page 7