by Lisa Boero
“At least I am wearing a dry petticoat.” Althea made an effort to shake off her anxiety. “It was the challenge of the thing, you see. Norwich was so horrified by my beetle studies that I wanted to show him that all of nature’s creatures can be beautiful.”
“And tempt him into making you an offer?”
“You of all people know that to be false.”
“Oh Althea, what am I to do with you?” Jane smiled knowingly. “Charles will not like it.”
“I didn’t need a dress to tempt him. My fortune was more than enough.”
“Perhaps his feelings run deeper than you know.”
“Perhaps. Although it is odd, Jane, he hasn’t pressed me of late.”
“A man cannot withstand constant rejection.”
“I am not wishing him to renew his attentions, I assure you, but it makes me wonder just what he is thinking. Maybe he has decided to give John the floor.”
“Our cousins aside, there must be some young buck who has tickled your fancy.”
Unconsciously a blush stole up Althea’s cheeks. No, her attraction to the thief was too embarrassing to confess to Jane.
“Althea, I demand to know what you are about!”
“I am just attempting to follow your advice and enjoy the season I never had.”
When the ladies appeared downstairs, Althea had taken the precaution of throwing an opera cape of rushed satin over her ensemble. It would be prudent to forestall any commentary until she was safely masked. Cousin John, who had dressed more quickly than the ladies, was resplendent in a medieval tunic and a wolf’s head mask. Charles had opted for a simple black domino and silken face mask, but he entered into the discussion of the family costumes with enthusiasm. Jane, her hair pulled up and arranged stiffly around a wire circlet and stuck through with a set of pearl hairpins that had been a gift from her late mother, received the most praise.
Charles exclaimed, “You are to be complimented on such a wonderful disguise! It is like stepping backward in time.”
He was equally warm when his mother descended the stairs dressed as a country shepherdess, albeit one with the budget for satins and lace. In her hand she carried a silk-covered staff with a cascade of colored ribbons at the top.
“Why, thank you, Charles, although had I known that your brother would come as a wolf, I might have chosen differently. What are my poor sheep to do? Really John, you gave me quite a fright just now!”
John growled menacingly and then laughed.
Lord Levanwood appeared dressed simply like Charles in a blue domino. “Let’s get this over with,” he said gruffly.
Given the width of Jane’s costume, the ladies were squeezed into the carriage, a tumble of satin and legs, while the men rode together in John’s phaeton. At the ball, they quickly dispersed in an attempt to find their own set among the riotous atmosphere that already pervaded the ballroom. Althea repaired with Jane to the cloakroom to assist in the adjustment of the now cockeyed farthingale. Once Jane was put to rights, Althea removed her cloak and bravely handed it to a waiting woman. It was now or never.
Jane chuckled as they walked arm and arm into the ballroom. “What a picture we must make—old-fashioned prudence and modern indecency.”
“I’d much have preferred artifice and nature,” Althea replied. Now that she was actually out in public, facing the sidelong glances of masked men, her confidence had begun to falter once more.
Jane sensed her hesitation. “Do not fret. The costume is not half so daring as those of some of the women here tonight. And if one cannot be daring at a masquerade, then one has no sense of adventure.”
Althea smiled, relieved. “What would I do if I did not have you, dear Jane?”
“Live a very boring life.”
They moved forward into the crowd, coming near Cousin Bella, who was chattering away to a Celtic princess and a medieval knight. Bella looked over, waved, and then went back to her conversation. The musicians commenced a reel, and a line of dancers formed down the center of the room. Jane and Althea hovered on the periphery, each scanning the crowd, but with different objects.
They were soon approached by a plump courtier dressed in the style of King Charles. He made a low bow, saying, “Fair handmaiden of Good Queen Bess, would you do me the honor of the next dance?”
“Ah, Sir Neville,” Althea said before Jane could reply, “I must congratulate you on such a fine costume, but how did you know it was us?”
“Such beauties are not to be hidden so easily, Lady Trent, and I would know Miss Trent in any disguise.”
“Very pretty,” Jane replied. “I will do my best in the next dance, Sir Neville, but I’m not sure how anyone managed to dance with these great hoops.”
“The elegance of your movements shall overcome the ungainly quality of your costume,” Sir Neville said. “But we must not neglect Lady Trent. Here, I see good Sir Pennicott over by the wall. Let me make the introduction.”
“No need,” a familiar voice said from behind the little group. “I will engage Lady Trent, if she will have me.”
Althea turned around and found herself staring at a handsome gentleman dressed in a Roman toga. He wore a laurel wreath on his head and a black silk mask over his eyes, and he carried a staff with a metal figure of a lightning bolt at the top. “Lord George?”
He bowed low. “Lady Trent, I believe we have both lost our costume wagers.”
“The voice cannot be disguised,” she said, hoping to catch a reaction, but she could detect none. “However, we might still be able to carry on. Might I guess that you are dressed as the all-powerful Jupiter?”
He smiled. “I see you have not neglected the study of the ancient myths. Yes, I am the king of Mount Olympus, but you,” his eyes traveled slowly up and down her body, “are not the fair Juno.”
Althea felt a strange shiver of excitement. “No, Lord George.”
He studied her a moment longer. “I cry pardon, for I cannot make it out. What does your costume represent?”
“One of God’s most humble creatures, the lowly beetle.”
“Extraordinary. You have wrought beauty from disgust.”
Althea smiled with real pleasure. “Thank you. That is just as I would wish.”
The reel ended, and the next set began to form. Althea, feeling more confident, let Jane and Sir Neville drift away. Verlyn entertained her with light conversation, and upon handing his staff to an attendant, he took her hand and led her on to the floor. The time passed quickly in between the movements of the dance and his witty conversation. When it ended, Althea found herself with a strange sense of disappointment.
A man in a green domino solicited her hand next, followed by a black domino, who turned out to be Cousin Charles.
“Are you enjoying the dance, cousin?” His voice was light.
“Yes. The costumes are wonderful, don’t you think?”
“Some are, yes.” He turned and then, coming back through the steps of the dance, added, “Yours is indeed a revelation.”
Althea didn’t like the tone of his remark. “Does a beetle offend you?”
“It’s not the subject matter, madam.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Come, let us not argue in public. You know as well as I do that your costume is not decent. Indeed, I thought you had better sense than to expose yourself thus.”
“The cut of my gown is merely an imitation of a beetle’s rounded carapace, dear cousin. Madame Longet made the final adjustments without my knowledge. When it arrived, it was too late to change. Besides, if your mother has not thought to comment on it to me, I think I may brave your disfavor.”
“My mother is a silly woman who does not know her own interests, let alone those of the family.” The bitterness of his voice shocked Althea. She was happy to take a turn away from him.
When they came back together, he took her arm, smiled, and said softly, “Might I suggest that your willingness to dress the part of the tem
ptress indicates that your grief has abated such that my addresses may be renewed with fervor?”
Althea, at a loss as to how to repulse him, said, “I looked for realism in a costume and had not considered any other aspects. If its fit offends you, I would direct your ire toward Madame Longet.”
Charles chuckled. “Come now, since the time of Eve, women have ever been aware of the power they have over us poor men. You knew exactly what you were about. We cannot be blamed for our actions.”
Althea turned away without a reply. Upon meeting him again, she remained silent. Charles seemed to study her, and then he said, “If you have thoughts of catching Norwich, let me be the first to warn you that paltry methods such as these will not suffice. Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. The Norwich family is very particular in matters of etiquette. The duke’s mother would not like to see such a display from the woman who would take her place, and Norwich has shown no inclination to marry to disoblige his family.”
“Thank you, Charles, for your sound advice, but as I have no intention of catching Norwich, I think I may brave the potential displeasure of his mother.”
“And Lord George Verlyn?” he said softly. “Remember, she is mother to both.”
“Again, I am indebted to you for your knowledge of the peerage, but you may rest assured that I have no such intentions.”
Charles merely laughed.
The dance mercifully ended, and Althea found the first opportunity to escape Charles by pretending to discover a rip in her costume that needed instant repair. She walked back to the cloakroom, determined to compose herself before braving the ballroom once more. She seemed to be failing on all counts; she was stung by Charles’s reproof and unable to locate either the Queen of Sheba or the Norwich devil in the mass of colorful costumes.
The cloakroom was abuzz with women whose costumes were in various states of adjustment and alteration. The attendants fluttered to and fro like butterflies, ministering to the flower of London society. Here a tear was mended, there a cool compress applied to an overheated forehead, and across the room a lady shrieked, “I’ve lost my earring,” only to be hushed when Althea spied the earring on the ground near her feet.
Althea sank heavily into the only empty chair. In the chair next to her sat a very large woman dressed as the Queen of Hearts. She fanned her reddened face. “Lord what a crush! I’ve never had to repair to the cloakroom merely to sit down.”
Althea nodded. “Indeed.”
“And this costume’s so heavy. Next time I will come as a sprite—some costume made of gauze.” She lifted her full skirt, showing a puffy foot held tight by a satin slipper. “Not this brocade. My Lord, I don’t know what I was thinking!” She seemed to notice Althea’s costume for the first time. “You certainly have the right of it. What exactly are you? Woodland nymph?”
“Beetle.”
“Oh, that is original. Come stand so that I may see.”
Althea complied self-consciously and then sat back down.
“Good for you,” the lady said approvingly. “One should always take full advantage of one’s assets.” She smiled in a good-natured way. “I’m sure a lady like yourself would never credit it, but I was once as slim as a willow switch. Should have taken better advantage then! However, my husband doesn’t seem to mind, so I guess I can’t repine. And children are great ruiners of one’s figure, bless them. Have you any children?”
“One,” replied Althea.
“Oh, that explains it then. I’ve seven living and two that died, poor dears. All out of the schoolroom now.”
“You must find it lonely. My son is but eight, but I dread the moment when he must be off to school.”
“One becomes accustomed to having one’s life back. Not that a mother’s work is ever done. There always seems to be one or another of them hanging about the house, but at least the girls are finally married off. I never thought to have so much trouble as I did finding suitable husbands for them all. A girl’s idea of what makes a good husband bears no relationship to reality. They want these dark romantic types, and yet I ask you, what good is a handsome rake when one has children to feed? Ten to one he will have wasted all of his money on drink and cards. Not that I am opposed to cards—my husband is off enjoying himself with the faro table as we speak—but one cannot live on debt alone.”
“Very true. However, it must be hard for a young lady, raised on romantic tales from the circulating library, to accustom herself to reality.”
“Yes, but as we know, marriage is all about making the best of the circumstances. These so-called love matches just lead to disaster.”
Althea sighed. Her companion was right. It would be best if Althea put all thoughts of love out of her head, particularly since those thoughts ran to a certain disreputable thief. A common rake would have been a better choice. She desired to turn the conversation, so she said, “I have come to understand that faro is quite a popular game. I never had the opportunity to play.”
“Don’t play unless you have learned. It is not a game for triflers. I’ve been told that Levanwood is holding the bank tonight, and everyone knows that he is not above turning the play to his advantage.”
“Really? Someone told me that the bank always wins. It made me wonder why anyone ever played.”
“Oh, in the long run that is quite true, but from night to night one must have the capital to sustain staggering losses. But never fear, my husband knows his limits, and faro is very pleasant in its way.”
“Does Lord Levanwood often enact the role of banker?”
The lady nodded. “However, I believe that this is the first time he has done so this season. Finally escaped the wifely harness, poor man. But there, my husband tells me that I should keep my sharp tongue in my head—not that I can help it!” She flicked her fan twice and then struggled to her feet, shaking the full skirt of her costume out. “I must be getting back.”
Althea stood as well. “It has been lovely to meet you, Queen of Hearts.”
“And also you, Madam Beetle. Perhaps we shall meet again at the unveiling.”
“I should like that.”
When Althea returned to the ballroom, she noticed a tall devil skulking in a corner. Hoping that she had identified the correct devil, she approached. The man remained silent until she was close enough that others would not hear their conversation. “Althea,” he said. His eyes were inscrutable behind the mask.
“My lord,” she replied, relieved that she had not confused the matter.
“You have proved the point.”
“And what point was that?”
“If you do not know, then I shall certainly not enlighten you.” He smiled enigmatically.
“Why not?”
He seemed as if he were to answer, but thinking better of it, he turned away, saying, “Have you located the Queen of Sheba?”
“No.”
He scanned the ballroom from his superior height. “I don’t think she has yet arrived.”
“What are we to do while we wait?”
He held out his arm. “I’m in no mood for dancing. Come, take a turn with me about the room.”
“I don’t think we will get very far in this crush,” she replied, placing her hand lightly upon his sleeve.
“Then let us at least seek refreshment.”
Althea nodded. They moved through the crowd with greater ease than anticipated, Norwich’s height giving him an advantage in navigation. Soon they reached an antechamber arranged with several long tables for lemonade, claret, and champagne. The crowd was still thick, so they drank their glasses down hurriedly and left, making their way down the hall until they reached a small sitting room lit only by a fire dying in the grate.
Norwich indicated that they should enter, and Althea complied saying, “Surely I shall have to do penance for a year of Sundays if I follow the devil into a darkened room.”
“Your soul is safe with me tonight.”
She sank down in a chair beside the fire. “This is nice.
”
Norwich took the chair opposite, moving his cloth tail out of the way before he sat down. “These events can be very tiresome.”
They were silent for several minutes, and then Althea said, “So what is the plan for this evening? Shall we orbit the Queen of Sheba until something happens?”
“That was my idea. Do you have another?”
“No, I suppose not.” She eyed his profile, wondering if he had any suspicion about the activities of his own brother. “If we had a list of suspects, it might aid our surveillance. Has Magistrate Read ever proposed any to you?”
Norwich turned his head to look at her. “No, unfortunately not.”
“Um.” Althea turned back to the fire.
“I should think any person who approaches Lady Cartwright would be considered one.”
“Any person? Are you considering women suspect as well?”
“Unlikely, I agree, but the thief could employ an accomplice.”
“The thief could easily be a woman. In fact, a woman would have greater opportunity. There are places that Lady Cartwright may go that a man could not follow.”
“A woman cannot travel as easily as a man.”
“She would not need to travel if she had the appropriate accomplice,” Althea replied.
“Mr. Read has thoroughly explored the possibility, but even with Bow Street’s connections in the basest part of London, Read cannot find any information about smuggling the jewels out of the country. That leads me to believe the thief must take it all upon himself.”
“So all men are suspect, but how shall we know who is who? Disguise is the point of a masked ball.”
“We must keep a sharp eye,” he said.
“Then perhaps it would be best to return to the ballroom.”
“Permit me a moment longer.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “To rest?”
“No, I am not yet so old. Do you realize that we have spent nearly a quarter of an hour in each other’s presence without a quarrel?”
“That long? You must be taking my advice.”
He refused the bait. “And what shall you do when the season is over? Return to your fields and streams?”