by Amanda Deed
With clenched teeth, she began to style Harriet’s hair, then Nancy’s. For both, she pulled their hair up into a large knot. These she surrounded with a wreath of flowers, leaving a few short curls around their faces and the nape of their neck. When they were satisfied with their reflections in the mirror, they held out necklaces for her to fasten.
It seemed to never end, this running back and forth between the three, but at long last, Papa came in to herd them off to the buggy. Amidst girlish laughter and a cloud of heavy perfume, they swished out of the house, leaving Jane to lean against a doorjamb in relief. Moses would finally settle down now. In truth, he had already quietened and sat on a perch in the front hallway, preening. Jane had just blown out a long breath when the door opened again and Papa poked his head around the corner.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to come tonight, Jane?’ He appeared sorry to be leaving her alone.
She offered him a genuine smile. ‘I must see to all the animals.’
‘Darcy can do that, can’t he?’
‘Yes. But—’Jane indicated her attire—‘what would I wear?’
Papa winced at that and then shook his head.
Jane tried to offer him a boon. ‘Besides, I don’t feel much up to seeing Price Moreland waltzing around with his fiancée.’
Papa stared at her for a moment, then entered the room properly and closed the door behind him. ‘Regarding Mr Moreland, my love. I am beginning to wonder if we were right about him all along.’
Jane drew her brows together as she tried to understand. ‘What do you mean by that?’
Her father fiddled with his hat, turning it in his hands, but kept his eyes downcast. ‘He came to see you yesterday.’
‘Oh?’
‘I wouldn’t let him past the gate.’ Papa glanced up, but seemed uneasy.
Jane nodded. She wouldn’t have agreed to see him at any rate. It gladdened her to think Papa stood up for her in a protective manner. ‘It’s all right, Papa. You did the right thing.’
He drew in a deep breath. ‘Did I? I refused to listen to what he said. As I rode away from him, he called out to me. He was rather intent.’
‘I’m sure he deserved to see your back.’ Tension tightened Jane’s stomach.
Papa’s mouth pressed into a grim line. ‘He said he was not engaged to Miss Anderson.’
‘What?’ Jane stepped nearer to him, clutched his arms and searched his eyes. He seemed certain. Could it be true?
‘I should have told you yesterday.’ Papa shook his head, ashamed. ‘I’m sorry, my dear girl, I’ve failed you again.’
‘No, Papa. No. You haven’t.’ She drew away from him and strode across the room, trying to think. ‘But are you sure? Miss Anderson did not strike me as the type to lie. She was rather sweet in fact.’ Indeed, Jane could not compete in the slightest with an elegant beauty such as Miss Anderson. ‘But then, Mr Moreland did not seem the type to lie either.’
‘I don’t know, darling.’ Papa shrugged, at a loss. ‘I just don’t know.’ He backed toward the door. ‘I must go now. The girls will be wondering where I’ve gone. But I thought you should know at any rate.’
She followed him to the door to shut it behind him. With her mind in a whirl and one hand at her throat, Jane breathed a thank you and let him go. She leaned on the door, overwhelmed. Think. That’s what she needed to do. Figure out where the truth hid among the different stories. Had Miss Anderson spread a lie for some reason? Was Price truly unattached? Jane’s heart thudded with the possibilities.
Suddenly she wanted to see him, to talk to him, to learn the truth directly from him. Oh, if only she could attend the ball tonight. Jane opened the door again, called Moses to her, and slipped out into the darkness. On wings of hope, she walked across the courtyard, although her walk resembled more of a waltz. Especially when she twirled around a few times, sending Moses flapping to find his balance again. Price had wanted to see her, to explain something important.
Jane paused in her steps. Perhaps she should read the letters he’d sent from Wagga Wagga. They still sat unopened in the bottom of her trunk. A growl sounded in her stomach. The letters could wait until after supper. Aunt Ruby probably had an appetising soup steaming over the fire, and crusty bread to dip into it. The thought made her mouth water.
As she entered the cookhouse, however, her hunger vanished.
‘Are they gone now?’ Aunt Ruby greeted her, her eyes sparking with unexplainable excitement.
‘Yes. Although Papa left me with strange news.’ Jane slipped into a chair, while Moses flew over to his perch.
‘What strange news is that?’ Aunt Ruby called from the storeroom. She had ducked in there the moment Jane appeared.
‘Well, it seems that perhaps Mr Moreland is not betrothed after all.’
Aunt Ruby poked her head around the door, her eyes wide with interest. ‘Is that so?’
‘I suppose I should speak to him and find out.’
‘Well, it’s a good thing I made these then.’ Aunt Ruby came back into the kitchen, her arms laden with swathes of golden fabric—satin, if Jane guessed right.
A fluttering began in Jane’s stomach as she stared at the dress in her aunt’s hands. ‘You didn’t.’
‘I did. It’s high time you enjoyed yourself like other young women. I’ve been putting a few coins aside for a long time. With the fabric I bought, plus bits and pieces from my old costumes, I think I have created my best work ever. In this gown, you will outshine every other girl there tonight.’
Jane stood up and backed away, shaking her head, her breath coming rapidly. ‘But, Aunt Ruby, I can’t possibly. Not with all the people staring at me.’
‘And what does that matter? No one will know who you are.’
Jane felt the colour draining from her face. ‘I don’t have a ticket.’
‘Lucky I bought you one then, isn’t it?’ Aunt Ruby grinned.
‘But what about the animals?’
‘Darcy can feed them as you are aware. Now, stop making excuses and let’s get you dressed.’
Jane gaped at her aunt. She obviously would brook no more argument. Jane tried to settle her nervous responses. Hadn’t she always dreamed of this? And it was a masquerade ball. She would be in disguise. The dress Aunt Ruby held had a flowing skirt of gold satin, and a bodice encrusted with more of the sequins Jane had used on the mask. It glittered and shone in every direction as it moved in her aunt’s hands. In this gown, she could pretend to be the beauty she’d always wanted to be. For one night, she had the chance to live that desire. Tears sprang to her eyes without warning.
‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Aunt Ruby.’
24
Price stood at the edge of the polished dance floor of the Tattersalls Hotel ballroom, surrounded by excited youths and less animated but equally enthused adults. Now that he had arrived with Miss Hayley on his arm, it seemed every girl in the room lined up for a dance with the American cowboy. He’d already written his name on several of their dance cards.
Having not planned to attend the ball in the first place, not without Jane anyhow, Price had been forced to improvise on a costume. He had spied his Boss of the Plains in his room that afternoon, and it gave him the idea to modify his clothing and pass for a cowboy from out west. Boots, trousers, a shirt and vest did the trick. But the kerchief around his neck, which he lifted to cover the lower part of his face in place of a mask, along with his hat made the look complete.
Of course, his height gave him away, and his accent every time he opened his mouth. Price did not see one person without recognition in their eyes, even though he had no idea who was who behind their masks. Nevertheless, he enjoyed himself for the most part. He was conscious of Miss Harriet and Miss Nancy’s eyes on him often from wherever they were in the hall. Even Mrs O’Reilly appeared to watch him as she made her rounds of the
room, keeping parents content and sharing the benefits the hospital promised to offer with increased funds.
Had she passed on his words to Jane as she had promised? On numerous occasions in the past hour or so, he had wished Jane was there. The evening would be infinitely more enjoyable with her present. Plus, if she were here, he could sort things out with her once and for all.
‘My Harriet looks quite lovely this evening, don’t you agree?’ Mrs O’Reilly had moved to stand beside him.
‘Yes, lovely indeed.’ Price refused to argue with her, even if Miss Harriet’s looks did not stir an ounce of interest in him. ‘As can be said of every lady here.’ The only face he wanted to see was covered with a splash of freckles and surrounded with a gorgeous mess of vibrant red hair.
‘You should really ask for a place on her dance card.’
Price tried not to roll his eyes. The manipulator was at work again. ‘I suppose I could.’ Price clenched his teeth together. If Mrs O’Reilly was to begin throwing her daughters at him again, perhaps she hadn’t passed on the news of his bachelor status to Jane. And that meant he was back to the hopeless state of last night.
A gurgle of laughter emitted from Mrs O’Reilly’s throat, though it held no real mirth. ‘Well, what is holding you back then?’
Price offered a shrug. Her machinations did not amuse him. ‘Unfortunately I’ve already promised most of the dances tonight. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Very well, Mr Moreland. I believe you are a man of your word.’
With those words Mrs O’Reilly bustled off to the next adult with whom she spent time exchanging trivialities, leaving Price to stew over his new suspicions. If he hadn’t promised those dances and the speech, he would be able to sneak out, head to the O’Reilly farm and meet Jane without being stopped. Why hadn’t he considered that before committing himself to attend? And now he had promised to dance with Miss Harriet. Price was tempted to smack himself in the forehead. Knock some sense into himself.
The announcer called for the polka and Price remembered his obligation to partner Miss Hayley’s friend, whose name he could not quite remember. Her costume, though, resembled Napoleon’s Josephine. As Price collected her for the dance, he observed that Napoleon stood not too far away, staring at them with a jealous eye. It was hard to smother his grin of amusement. As if he would form an attachment to a girl almost half his age.
The music started up with a brisk tempo. Price tried to shake off both his annoyance at himself and his mirth at others and entered the dance. He needed to make the best of the situation.
Jane held tight to Old Darcy’s hand as he helped her from the buggy. She was shaking so hard, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk the distance into the ballroom. It was hard enough just to concentrate on breathing. With her feet planted on solid ground, Jane looked up at her aunt who had come along for the ride.
‘Remember, hold your chin up high and keep your back straight. The minute you dip your head and hunch over like usual, everyone will know it’s you,’ Aunt Ruby encouraged. ‘Tonight you are Queen Cleopatra. Tell yourself that and make yourself believe it.’
Jane nodded and let her hand flutter up to run her fingers over the straight dark wig, which hung to her shoulders. Aunt Ruby had pressed the curls out of one of her old dancing wigs and trimmed it into an Egyptian style. No one would see her red hair and that was the biggest advantage as Jane saw it. Her mask covered half her face and her aunt had painted black lines around the eyes to fit with the Cleopatra image. But even knowing she was almost unrecognisable, Jane’s nerves refused to steady.
What if her mother or sisters recognised her? What would Price say if he saw her? What if he attended with Miss Anderson? How would she even face him? And what of Papa? Would he know her? What would he think? Jane closed her eyes and breathed in deep, trying to still the panicking voices in her head. God loves me. He is my rock and fortress. I will not be moved.
Old Darcy leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You look enchanting tonight, love. Go and break some hearts.’
Jane was unable to find her voice, so she squeezed his hand and nodded.
‘I will return for you in a couple of hours.’
Jane offered them both a tremulous smile, then turned, picked up her skirt and entered the hotel. Her nerves were in such a state of mixed fear and excitement that everything around her appeared to move slowly as she approached the ballroom. Every step, every breath seemed to be accentuated and the strains of music emanating from the grand room pulsed along with her racing heart.
Two liveried doormen smiled and bowed before opening the doors wide for her to enter. As they did, the glare of myriad candles and lamps met her eyes, reflecting from shimmering material draped from the ceiling and around the walls. Have I stepped into Paradise? Jane stood and took in every detail of the glorious scene, breathing in the scent of vases of flowers, mixed with candle wax, perfume and perspiring bodies. She drank in the sound of the fiddles and pipes, which made merry music, while the sight of the orchestrated and rhythmic movement of dancers mesmerised her.
Another gentleman in livery took her wrap and she thanked him, though he might not have heard her voice as it failed her so. When she turned back to the crowded ballroom, she saw that not just one or two, but many eyes were now upon her. Momentarily, another wave of panic seized her. Was there something wrong with her dress? Had her wig slipped? Jane glanced down to check her gown and it struck her again how neatly it fit. The costume hugged the curve of a waist now exaggerated by the tight corset and modest bustle beneath the dress. There was nothing out of place, but if only she had someone by her side, holding her hand, or at least Moses behind whom she could somehow hide. One foot took a tentative step backwards, ready for flight, before Jane remembered Aunt Ruby’s words. Keep your head high. No one knows who you are.
Drawing from every ounce of courage she possessed, Jane stepped further into the ballroom. Then one woman curtsied to her, catching her by surprise. Several others did the same, mothers and daughters she knew by name—well, guessing who they were behind their costumes—and men who had never before spared a glance at her. What was happening?
‘Good evening, Miss Anderson.’ A voice behind her said.
Jane turned to see young Patrick, Price’s assistant, with a smug grin on his face, obviously sure of his guess at her identity. Flabbergasted would have been an understatement to her feelings at that moment. How did anyone think she, Plain Jane, resembled even closely the beautiful, elegant Miss Anderson?
And yet, as she nodded to him with a faint smile and turned around, it appeared that many others had assumed the same thing. Again, Jane’s hand found its way up to the dark wig. That must be it. Without the red hair, no one had the slightest idea who she was. In that instant, her breath came easier. Her wish to run faded away and a new confidence took its place. Why set them straight? Clearly the real Miss Anderson was not in attendance, at least not yet. She might even pull this off. Jane almost laughed at the prospect. She might indeed succeed.
‘May I have this dance?’ Patrick asked, unaware of the internal change that was taking place in her.
Jane lifted her gloved hand and placed it in his. ‘Yes.’
Price looked around as he walked off the dance floor and almost tripped over his own feet. There, standing near the doorway, was a tall, slender figure, shimmering in gold satin, the image of Queen Cleopatra. Violet? He banished that first thought as quickly as it came. He’d put her on a paddle steamer that morning. There was only one other woman in town who matched her for beauty and elegance, or rather, outshone her. Price swallowed. Could it be? Jane? But how?
He watched, mesmerised, as Patrick led her onto the floor. Her eyes were not downcast in her usual manner, but she kept her head high and her shoulders straight. Price always saw her as lovely, but he was unprepared for the effect her unequalled costume had on him. Wasn’t this what
he had hoped for, imagined over and again? And here she was, in more splendour than he ever envisioned, but she wasn’t on his arm. Indeed, he doubted that she’d even seen him yet.
Jane moved with gracious ease through the steps of the Mazurka, making him long to be the one dancing with her. Price moved around the edge of the ballroom, hoping to intercept her before any other moonstruck lad approached her for the next dance. But at the last moment he remembered that he had promised to dance with the butterfly-costumed girl, whose card he’d signed earlier. Frustrated, he searched out his partner and went through the motions of the dance, barely focused on anything but Jane in her transfiguring Cleopatra gown.
When the last measures of the dance faded, the master of ceremonies announced the intermission, which meant Price had to perform his speaking duty and therefore, could not hope to even procure Jane a drink. He’d noticed her glance toward him from time to time and he’d stared unashamedly back at her. What are you thinking about, my sweet lady? Did she still love him? Did she know Violet Anderson meant nothing to him? Or did she yet hold him in contempt?
Price took the podium, lowered his kerchief and delivered the speech, which he had memorised during the afternoon. It acknowledged Miss Anderson as a large benefactress of the event, a fact Price had not even known until he first read the speech. Not that it surprised him. Violet had always been boundless with her generosity in the face of a good cause. She must have offered a large donation while he was away in Wagga.
Many heads turned to Jane and smiled at that part of the address. What was this? Did they all think Jane was Violet? On consideration, they both had the same tall, shapely figure, and with Jane’s hair and face covered, who would know? The word had not spread that Violet had left town, and so only people who had gazed into each of their eyes would see the difference. Violet had brown eyes, while Jane’s were decidedly green. And those green eyes fastened on him, despite the many folk who stared at her. His stomach flopped at her direct gaze, so different from the shy, downward glance she often used.