The Perfect Rose

by Diane Greenwood

  In the afternoon, fresh cut flowers were brought in from the gardens in such large quantities it was a wonder there were any left to grow. Vases were filled and when those ran out the huge planters in the ballroom were filled. The spacious room smelled of roses and jasmine with a hint of honeysuckle. Many a heart would be lost among the blooms, seduced by nature's perfume and the excitement of the festivities.

  By dusk a few carriages rolled into the courtyard. Early goers who were worried they were going to be late, but instead; now worried they would be thought gauche. But they were treated as royalty, offered the finest champagne and freshly baked scones with hand-churned cream, served in the drawing room. The room itself was made to look cozy, but truth be told had been refurbished totally for just the occasion of receiving early arrivals.

  His lordship himself arrived at this time, apparently having just returned from riding, as if he hadn't a care in the world, nonetheless a party of two hundred arriving in bits and pieces. He excused himself to get properly readied and invited the guests to tour the Long Gallery and observe the paintings done by various masters of oil, reproducing the likeness of forebears for all eternity.

  And so dusk became darkness and Torie was called into action. The boys protested over her ministrations. They wanted to dress themselves but the wrinkles and rumpled look would never do so she took over the task. Justin's bottle-green frock coat and black knee breeches were of the first water while Brodie's gray coat, over ruffled shirt and trousers made him such a miniature little man Torie had to smile. The final touch was straightening the black silk tie that held back Justin's dark hair and wetting down Brodie's unruly cowlick that threatened the near perfect picture. With a wistful look she led them to the staircase, careful to keep in the shadows as she watched them go downward.

  Justin gave her a backward glance and she smiled to give him courage. He would do well at the recital and his father would be proud. Torie could take pride that she was instrumental in his children's learning and part of their upbringing.

  She sighed and turned away. Her place in the spotlight was over. She retreated to the refuge of the deserted schoolroom. Even with the house full of visitors it was eerily quiet. Dinner must be in progress. That reminded her that a maid would soon bring up her own meal. She listened carefully for the telltale foot treads on the back stairs. It was a sure bet she would have a sinfully delicious dinner made of the same sumptuous fare they were being served below. The sound she anticipated came and she hurriedly ducked into her room. She watched from the crack in the doorframe while a maid left a tray of food as usual in the schoolroom. When it was clear, Torie ventured out.

  The food was generously proportioned and smelled heavenly. There was even warm, mulled wine to stimulate the palate. Torie felt as honored as any guest below. Why indeed, it was a party of one! She was good company for herself. Sated, she pushed the tray away. She could not eat another bite, nor swallow another sip.

  From below came a few broken strains of music as the orchestra tuned up. Then as if on cue they began to play. Smooth, silken tones drifted through the halls, wafting up the stairs to Torie's ears. It was entrancing! It was easy to imagine she was the Belle of the Ball, floating over the dance floor. Gliding and twirling. A vision in white.

  White. Ah, yes, the dress! What harm was there in trying it on? She took it from the wardrobe and held it against herself. The next moment it was on; the tiny pearl buttons on the bodice fastened snugly but easily. The delicate capped sleeves were slashed to show white satin beneath, while the fitted waist showed her trim shape to perfection. Below, the skirts floated around her legs, just reaching the floor. Somewhere in her belongings was a pair of faded, white slippers. They looked yellow when compared with the snowy whiteness of the gown, but the long skirts hid all but the toes and who would see them anyway?

  Whimsically she shook out the ribbon holding her hair back. It fell nearly to her waist in a cloud of gold. This would never do. The natural curls were gathered and fastened atop her head in an effort at containment. For the most part it worked, leaving the impression of planned dishabille'. She had no jewelry and no powder for face or bosom but that was neither here nor there as no one would see either. But despite her shortcomings it felt good to see herself dressed up. She'd been confined for too long as the bandage on her hand reminded her.

  The music reached her ears picking up tempo. She whirled in a circle nearly bumping into the wall. Her room was too close, packed with large furniture as it was. The schoolroom was better suited but the music was muted. She crept to the stairway. Looking down she could see couples drifting through the doorway of the ballroom. A flash of bright silks and satins as dancers whirled past was all she could glimpse no matter how she craned her neck over the rail. It was too risky. Oh, how she yearned to see the festivities within!

  Wait! There was a way. It required little else then stealth and cunning and the art of being unobtrusive and Torie excelled at that! There was no chance of being seen, so she didn't bother with her cape. She simply gathered the skirt of her dress in her hand, so she wouldn't trip as she descended the back stairs to the second landing.

  From this point there were two back stairs. One, a graciously curved set leading down to the kitchens. This set was beloved by the servants. The other was dreaded, but thankfully seldom used, except by the boys to escape Nanny Ada. These angled narrowly, twisting like a vine, steeply cut as if they were a last minute detail, spiraling downward to the back of the house. Gingerly, Torie held her skirts high to avoid dust as she descended downward. This part of the house radiated a chill but she was too excited to care.

  Once at the bottom it was no trouble slipping through the French doors and out into the side gardens and into the maze. Torie knew it like the back of her hand. The boys had given her the slip a number of times until she outsmarted them and learned the idiosyncrasies of the dense, green growth. Now it was second nature to thread her way through until she was almost at the mouth. By peering around the tangled vines and shrubs she could see into the spacious windows of the ballroom. From the open doors at the end of the house came the floating notes of the orchestra.

  How lovely! Couples floated around the room, dipping and swaying, turning ever so gracefully. Silks and satins rustling, their bright hues creating a kaleidoscope of glistening color. Torie was dazzled and could not resist pirouetting and twirling with the music. The orchestra struck up a daring waltz. Torie curtsied to an imaginary partner, offering her hand. It was taken in her mind by a handsome gentleman bearing a remarkable resemblance to Lord Lairdscroft until Torie hastily reassembled her thoughts, giving the gentleman sandy hair color and paler complexion.

  She dipped and spun giddily within the maze, the full moon giving her a moon-beam for a partner. Champagne would be lovely; she nodded to her imaginary beau. She giggled. It was all so nice, even if it were only in her mind. She sighed, then gave a final twirl as the song came to an end.

  She came full circle, her skirts gently floating about her legs, like Venus rising out of the mist. Or so those were the thoughts of Torie's audience, as she came to a standstill and suddenly became aware she was not alone.

  While she had been dancing a lone figure had entered the maze. A slender built young man, in his twenties; blond of hair, with finely chiseled features dressed elegantly for the ball, stood mouth agape as if in a trance.

  Torie shook herself from her fantasy and turned to run into the maze. A male voice followed her, “Please wait! Don't go!"

  It was Torie's intention to run the gauntlet, gain access to the house and disappear back upstairs to the safety of her room. But, she realized with slowing steps, what good would it do? The man was no doubt a guest from the ball and would only inform his lordship of a stranger in the maze and a search would be launched.

  It was useless to try and hide any longer. Her curse was about to become public knowledge and in a big way. If this man talked and no doubt he would, Torie would be the gossip of the Winter
Ball. She only hoped his lordship would take it well and not think too harshly of her. As she turned to face her accuser, the moonlight caught her full in the face.

  The young man stopped a few paces from her. He stared incredulously. “Good God! I've never seen anything like it! Who are you?"

  Torie spoke slowly. “I am governess to Lord Lairdscroft’ s children."

  He shook his head as if to clear his vision. “You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen!"

  There was a time when Torie would have bowed her head in shame. But the times of hiding her curse were a thing of the past. She held her head high, accepting things as they were. “I must go in now."

  "I'll escort you."

  Torie began to protest. She had meant to go back to her room the same way she had come down. But why? The cat was out of the bag, so to speak, and she was probably to be discharged tomorrow, so why should she not have tonight?

  The young man mistook her hesitation. “I am sorry. Where are my manners? It's just you've overwhelmed me. I saw you dancing and I was enchanted. I thought you were a wood nymph, but now I see you are a goddess! Allow me the privilege; I am the Duke of Gaunlin, but you may certainly call me Everett."

  If he thought to impress Torie by the title, he was to be frustrated for she only nodded her head, acknowledging his introduction. But he was too enthralled to worry about if she found him half as attractive as he found her. He offered his arm and she took it without reserve. He couldn't take his eyes off her and had to remind himself to blink. She would think him an idiot! “You are the governess?"

  "Yes. I am Victoria Beauclaire."

  He guided her toward the opened veranda. “Forgive me. But I find it hard to believe someone as exquisite as yourself should be tucked away as a governess. His lordship is a lucky man."

  Torie did not understand. “It is a rewarding job and the children are priceless treasures."

  "Of course.” He smiled as if sharing a private joke.

  They reached the entrance to the cavernous room. Torie stopped short. It was one thing for a single Duke to have seen her, but now a roomful of guests stood before her and her debut would be a shock when her identity was revealed. It was useless to think no one would notice. Torie had stuck out like a sore thumb all her life and it had gotten her into nothing but trouble. Lost positions, jealous wives and lascivious husbands. Respectable employers who fretted Torie would bring ruin down on their lives. All of them had driven her to hide behind a cloak and hood, and even in cases ... darkness. Well, not tonight. She was coming out of the dark and into a brightly lit ballroom!

  The Duke of Gaunlin was at her elbow. “Shall we dance?"

  Torie smiled. Why not? It was her night. No doubt her last at Lairdscroft. She could continue her fantasy of Belle of the Ball. She had a new dress, a handsome man for a dance partner, and before the night was over she would have champagne, she vowed. Why not, indeed?

  She allowed the Duke to lead her into the middle of the room and sweep her in a circle with a flourish. Her skirt billowed behind her, like some willow-wisp, shimmering to catch up. She had only one satin slip beneath and did not possess the expensive silk undergarments or hosiery, usually worn with such a dress. Likewise, she had not bothered with her coarse woolen dailies, reveling in the softness of the new gown against her bare skin.

  Therefore, with every whirl, her skirt flashed and swayed, displaying an immoderate amount of creamy ankle. Quizzing glasses were raised and monocle's fell from their precarious perches as their possessors muttered among themselves, “Egad! Who is she? Who is she?” When their eyes traveled upward admiring the slender form, the generous curves of non-powdered bosom, then reached the face, their mouths followed the suit of their monocles and dropped. The men's with admiration and the women's in undisguised envy.

  That face! That unarranged hair! Who was she? Who the devil was she? A wave of whispering took to the air, floating and tossed about from one mouth to the other. Some words were immensely flattering and a sort of worship took place, even by some of the women. But some were harsh, reflecting disgust of such careless ‘dishabille’ at a public gathering. These comments were all by women. The men only muttered exclamations such as, “Egad! By God!” or, “What a fine filly!” A few, the bravest, mostly the mature ganders spoke brazen words. “I must have a dance with the creature!"

  Some wives smiled benignly, but simmered beneath at their husband's words. Others rapped their mates painfully on the knuckles with elaborately painted folded fans and pulled at them to leave the vicinity. None would. The other dancers halted as Torie and her Duke swept by.

  When the music stopped at the end of its song there was a large throng of whispering bodies gathered that parted regimentally to allow the Duke to lead Torie off the floor. Torie smiled and nodded politely to the crowd. Her knees felt wobbly, but whether from the rapid, intricate steps of the dance, or from nerves, she could not say. Certainly, the eyes of the lords and ladies about her were varied. Some shone bright; taking in every inch of her while others narrowed and stared.

  Torie began having misgivings of her bold declaration. She turned to excuse herself from the Duke. Her good sense told her to walk sedately from the room, while her heart said, 'Run! Flee up to your room!'

  But the decision was made for her as the crowd parted once more to allow Lord Lairdscroft to approach. His black satin knee breeches molded to his lean form, while the matching frock coat parted to show an amber-hued waistcoat that lent devilish glints to his dark blue eyes. “Everett! My dear young Duke, who is this enchanting creature?” His lordship's gaze traveled over the girl glibly as if she were a statue to be appraised, rather than a breathing human being.

  'Quite astonishing beauty', he deigned to acknowledge silently, then gave his attention to the matter at hand, which was crediting the Duke with his impeccable taste in women. The sooner the girl was introduced around, the sooner the evening could continue. It was the Winter Ball after all, and the night was still relatively young.

  The Duke was all for a lark and good-naturedly winked. “Rhionne, she claims she is your governess."

  The crowd tittered at the absurdity. Lord Lairdscroft frowned. What was this nonsense? “Nay, not my governess. My governess is pockmarked. Who are you, young woman? Be quick about it or I'll be forced to take steps. Vagrancy is not to be rewarded."

  Torie was shocked by his uncaring demeanor. This was one man who lacked compassion and could not be swayed by beauty. He did not care a whit about her plight and was more concerned with the interruption to his ball!

  The Duke was looking perplexed. He naturally assumed his lordship would go along with the governess lark. After all, he could not publicly acknowledge the girl as his mistress. But what else could she be? She obviously knew her way about the house. Unless ... Dear God ... Could it be Rhionne McLairdin really did not know her? This was most perplexing!

  It was fortunate that at this time two figures came running up, the smallest grasping the hem of Torie's skirt, while the older grasped her hand as if to give her courage. “Torie!” Brodie squealed. “You came to the ball!"

  It was Rhionne McLairdin's turn to look perplexed. “Children, you know this young woman?"

  Justin seriously replied, “Yes father. May I present Miss Victoria Beauclaire; our governess."

  His lordship looked to be impatient. “But, she is not marked!"

  Brodie looked up adoringly into Torie's face. “No father. She is beautiful!"

  His lordship scanned Torie's person, as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes caught the bandage on her hand, then flew to her eyes. Those luminous green eyes! Could it be?

  The Duke broke the tension by bowing to Torie stiffly. “I apologize for my indiscretion. I naturally assumed you and his lordship were on a first name basis. If I had known he was not aware of your obvious presence I would have handled the introduction better. I was under the impression you and he were ... well..."

  If all were not horribly
awkward, this was the icing on the cake, as Torie's eyes flew open at the implication of his words. She was aware that all eyes were on her. Two hundred pair as it were. But she would not run like a scared rabbit! With great dignity she took Brodie by one hand and Justin lightly by her bandaged one, nodding to his lordship. “With your permission, I will put the children to bed. It is time.” She scarcely waited for his barely perceptible nod, before sweeping from the room.

  Once on the stairway the children both began to chatter, but one look from Torie's taut face hushed them both. She avoided talk as she helped the boys into their night clothes, before ducking into her own room and without bothering to change from her dress, fell exhausted on her bed, muffling her sobs as best she could in her pillow. There was plenty of time to pack tomorrow.

  * * * *

  When Torie woke it was strangely quiet. There were no chattering children, no noise from below. She stared woefully at the wrinkled white muslin, once so beautiful, now besmirched by the memory of last night. After she had changed into a plain yellow, woolen gown and washed her face, bemoaning her red, swollen eyes, she ventured downstairs. It was not early, but still it was quiet. Even the servants cleaning up the considerable debris of last night were slow moving and silent. A few stared as she passed, but none barred her way as she entered the breakfast room.

  It was a room Torie had not seen in daylight before. Small and sunny, it lifted her spirits considerably. A mature servant in housekeeper's uniform, jangling a knot of keys at her waist, was just coming up from the cellars. She halted when she saw Torie but regained composure quickly. Of course all the servants would have heard, Torie realized. The footmen at last night's gala would not have waited for dawn to pass along the news.