It took a moment to locate the gown’s zipper. It was cleverly hidden in the back under some lovely embroidery. Finally, she slipped on the dress, even managing to zip it up by herself, just barely. Though she wanted to twirl around the room Michelle forced herself to sit down at the vanity again. Arranging her skirts, Michelle considered the best way to do her hair. It would look alright down, but she thought an up-do would be more appropriate. Smiling, Michelle took some bobby pins and set to work.
Fifteen minutes, some gel and about fifty bobby pins later, Michelle emerged from her room, holding her blue coat. She felt slightly wobbly on the high heels, but was glad to be wearing the pretty, green shoes. Looking around, the hall appeared deserted.
“Either they are all waiting for me downstairs or they’re not ready yet.” She hoped it was the latter. Practicing her descent, Michelle slowly floated downstairs using her very best deportment. Her efforts seemed to please the butler, Thomas; he smiled warmly at her and told her she looked well.
“They’ll be down shortly, Miss,” he told her; his voice lent Michelle more social status than she knew was deserved, but she smiled anyway.
“Thank you,” she returned.
Humming to herself, she wandered into the parlor. The large grand piano stood like a silent invitation. “Do you think Margaret would mind if I played on the piano?” Thomas chuckled from by the door.
“No, Miss,” he said. “Please go ahead.” He walked away, not before relieving Michelle of her coat. Michelle ran her fingers over the glossy instrument. Her mother loved to play the piano; when she was growing up, they had a wall piano... not anything like this gorgeous black behemoth. It had been awhile, but Michelle still remembered a soft Debussy piece her mother had loved.
“Thanks for the piano lessons, Mom,” she whispered, smiling. She sat down carefully, trying not to crease her gown. Looking around surreptitiously, she cracked her knuckles and grinned. The keys blazed out white and black, invitingly dualistic in their appeal. “Just like riding a bike,” Michelle said, to herself.
William emerged from his room some moments later, and immediately walked to Michelle’s door. He looked alarmingly well, dressed in Savile Row: a cobalt blue shirt, blue-silk tie with a midnight-black tailored suit. As most men did, he wanted to look well when he proposed to his lady. The Tiffany & Co. box seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket, but he wanted to wait for just the right moment.
Pausing to straighten his tie, William thought he heard the sounds of piano music coming from downstairs.
“Alfred,” he thought, grinning. The old boy couldn’t resist playing the big piano. Knocking on Michelle’s door, he readied a charming smile. No answer. Knocking again, William stood there smiling for another minute until he heard a door open, down the hall. Alfred came out, dressed in a pressed gray suit and deep red tie.
“Evening, Master William,” he said, smiling. “You look uncommonly well tonight.” William raised an eyebrow and looked from Alfred to the stairs. “Thank you… you as well.” He glanced at the staircase, then back at Alfred. “If you’re up here, then who is playing the piano?” he asked. Alfred looked puzzled.
“Maybe Jean-Claude plays?” he ventured. William looked at Michelle’s door. It occurred to him that he didn’t know if she played any instruments. If so, he’d been standing here like a dummy, knocking on the door of an empty room.
“I say, that’s Debussy,” Alfred was saying. He listened a moment. “Not bad. I prefer Chopin myself, though. Shall we sir? I’m certain Miss Michelle will be down shortly.”
“Yes,” William said, half suspecting she was down already. They walked down the grand steps just as Margaret entered the foyer. She looked at Alfred in surprise.
“Oh,” she said, looking towards the parlor. The doors were closed, but the music could be heard clearly. “Alfred, you’re not at the piano?” Alfred looked amused.
“Apparently not, Madam,” he said, smiling. William deliberately walked up to the doors and opened one, quietly.
The piano sat a little sideways as one entered the parlor, so whoever played did not face the doors; anyone coming in the room would see the player’s profile. William stood at the door, not wanting to move. He was not really shocked; he expected Michelle to look good, but he felt rooted to the spot at the sight in front of him. Michelle’s normally pale face held a sweet, rosy expression; her eyes were closed, enjoying the music, her slender frame swaying a little as she played.
Whatever dress she was wearing clung to her like it was a second skin, growing gracefully full around her legs; the sweeping neckline gave away a good deal of her chest and shoulders. Some kind of thread-thin silver necklace graced her skin, along with matching, swirling earrings that managed to compliment everything. William most liked her hair, full of bouncy curls piled on her head in a fashionable way; a few tempting, delicate tendrils draped down. Looking at her, William felt like he’d been socked in the stomach by Eros. To top it off, the lovely music the young woman played swirled around the room like some wispy enchantment.
“What man wouldn’t want her for his wife?” William thought, staring at her. He felt like asking her right then and there.
The door next to him opened. Alfred and Margaret appeared. William’s mother looked at Michelle with delight, smiling as the song ended.
“Oh, my dear girl!” Margaret said, clapping her hands. “You play beautifully…” Hearing voices, Michelle quickly opened her eyes, and then blushed at seeing the small audience grouped by the doorway. She’d hated recitals growing up.
“I didn’t think anyone would mind me playing,” she said, apologetically. Encountering William’s expression, she looked down at the piano keys.
“Mind? Nonsense I didn’t know you could play. Really... I’m so glad someone likes Debussy other than me. Alfred only ever plays Chopin...”
At these slightly disparaging words, Alfred sniffed.
“Chopin is a respectable composer, Madam,” he said, coolly. Margaret patted him on the shoulder.
“I know,” she said, smiling. “... and you play it very well.” Michelle stood up and made her way around the piano to the parlor door. William watched her every move; as she drew closer to him, he saw the rosy hue to her skin. It was difficult to find words but he wanted to say something.
“You look nice,” he said and then winced a little. “Lame, lame, lame...” he silently chastised himself. Michelle however, gave him a radiant smile; her eyes held a soft look.
“Thank you,” she returned. She looked at his suit. “You look incredible... in a good way,” she corrected, biting her lip. William smiled down at her; her shoes made her seem taller, he noticed. The top of her head came just about level with his eyes. It was the perfect height to kiss her, he reckoned.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said. Reaching forward he grasped her hand and kissed the back of it, his eyes never leaving hers.
Michelle’s thoughts turned in similar directions; she wondered what in the world she had done to be seen with this gorgeous man. The shirt he wore matched the shade of his eyes, making them even more brilliant. He regarded her with an adoring look she found quite flattering. She wanted to stare into his eyes for hours.
“You look so lovely, my dear,” Margaret said; her eyes appeared a little misty. The look her son gave his guest did not escape her; they made an amazing couple. She was secretly pleased with her handiwork.
Looking at Margaret, Michelle reached forward and gave her a small hug.
“Thank you so much for the dress, Margaret, I...” She began to thank the woman but Margaret waved her off, smiling brightly.
“Nonsense,” she said. “As if anyone should look like you do in that dress; it looks like it was made for you.”
“I agree,” William said, eying Michelle up and down. “I’m going to have to arm myself to keep the men off you.”
Alfred cleared his throat.
“Don’t worry sir; I will assist you in that endeavor,” he sa
id gravely. “No one will harm our lamb.” Margaret laughed and waved towards the foyer.
“Come now,” she said, still smiling. “We don’t want to be late; ‘tis half past six already.” Michelle stepped away obediently, heading toward Thomas; the butler stood by the front entry, holding her blue coat.
“Yes, let’s be off,” William said, gazing at Michelle appreciatively as she stepped carefully across the floor. “I’m starving.” He felt rather warm and loosened his collar a little, walking after Michelle. Alfred and Margaret exchanged a knowing look and followed.
Sophie’s ‘house’ was a good twenty minutes’ driving away. William sat snugly against his ladylove; he spent the whole ride breathing rather heavily on her, something which amused Michelle very much.
“I feel like I am sitting next to the Big Bad Wolf,” she whispered, after a few minutes of this. William responded by leaning down by her ear.
“You have no idea,” he whispered back.“Would you like me to nibble your ear again?”
“Now William,” Margaret said, trying not to giggle. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. “Please refrain from whispering mischievous things to Michelle this evening. I can see it renders her completely unable to speak.”
William flashed his mother a boyish grin.
“Excuse me madam; she looks so comely all rosy.”
“Embarrassed you mean,” Margaret said, trying to look severe. “For my sake?” William shrugged.
“Very well then,” he acquiesced; he dropped Michelle a roguish wink and leaned back, giving her a breather.
“What am I going to do?” Michelle thought, trying to calm her rapid heart-rate. In spite of being rendered nearly tongue-tied, she half-liked the looks that William gave her; she felt like the universe’s Most Alluring Woman under his gaze. Even though it felt a little ungrateful Michelle wished that she and William here alone for the evening, going off to dance and talk somewhere under the stars.
The D’Angelo residence proved even larger than Margret’s, by a good deal; it stood regally at the end of a private drive, soaring seven stories into the night air. Michelle shook her head in wonderment at the size of the place.
“What do they do with all the space?” she wondered aloud as William helped her from the car. “Play polo in the halls?” William laughed at her words, giving Michelle’s hand a squeeze.
“I like not having to worry about you being badly affected by all this,” he said, kissing her hand. “You have a good, healthy world view.”
Michelle looked up at him in the dim lamplight. He actually appeared sincere.
“I believe,” she said, quietly, “... that is the finest compliment I have ever received.” William responded by kissing her face; his eyes expressed a desire to do much more. Instead, he took her arm. Together they walked behind Margaret and Alfred up the gloriously-lit entry staircase. Inside, the party of four followed a somber-looking butler to the ballroom.
Sophie certainly knew how to decorate for a party. The ballroom appeared vastly proportioned, decked out with bright garlands and fabric banners stretched overhead, intertwined with tiny lights, ending around a huge, glowing chandelier. Exquisite music played from some hidden alcove high above the floor. The low rumble of many low conversations and laughter reverberated in the background.
The butler--standing poker-stiff at the arched entry to the ballroom--announced Margaret and Alfred like they were royalty, much to Michelle’s amusement. She smiled until the butler asked for William’s name, and hers.
“Mr. William Montgomery and Miss Michelle Gregory,” the man belted out.
The opulent ballroom teemed with groups of people; some of those standing nearby looked over at the announcements. One lady in a sleek white-and-silver gown swiftly moved over to them like a tall, radiant swan. It was Sophie. As she drew near, the elegant lady smiled at them with real warmth.
“Carina,” she said to Michelle, “You look so very lovely! Se Bella!” She seemed very pleased with Michelle’s appearance. “It is perfect… I am so jealous of your hair.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” she said. “Your home... the queen of England could live here.”
Sophie smiled and waved her hand around as if it all meant nothing.
“Thank you,” she said grandly. She gave William kisses on his face. “You are all welcome here. Please! Mingle... I will find you a drink, no?” She looked at Michelle.
“Um… I don’t really...” the young woman began.
“I see you have finally started dating women, William.”
A rather dark voice spoke out, from somewhere close behind Michelle. The voice did not seem to be a friendly one. Michelle didn’t dare turn around. William, on the other hand was not intimidated; smirking, he looked over his shoulder.
“Luca, you old gigolo,” he said coolly. “I thought you’d be dead of syphilis by now.”
Thinking a fight was imminent Michelle felt her shoulders tense. Unfazed by their words Sophie started giggling.
“You two are so funny!” she said, smiling. “What a couple of boys they are! They have been making fun of each other for years...” She leaned on Michelle’s shoulder, chuckling; Michelle could tell the hostess had been sampling the wine rather heavily. “Luca, come and meet William’s amore,” Sophie continued, waving someone over.
“Yes... Luca D’Angelo, may I introduce my girlfriend… Miss Michelle Gregory.”
Unable to avoid it any longer Michelle turned around and dipped slightly in a hesitant curtsy.
“Dios,” Sophie’s son spoke smoothly; his voice sounded like chocolate icing pouring over a cake. “William, what have you done to deserve such an angel?” Not looking at the man directly, Michelle put on her ‘polite’ smile; no blush colored her face. The newcomer's self-possessed tone could not inspire even a spark in her. “Her skin looks like pure cream.” Michelle still didn’t acknowledge the man. “She is a shy one, no?” Luca continued, after a pause.
Choosing her words carefully Michelle found that she disliked the man's voice exceedingly; he sounded like an alley cat strutting for females, meowing loudly until someone chucks a boot at it. An odd feeling of confidence made itself felt in Michelle and prompted her to respond.
“And so should I be, sir,” she said, finally looking up. “Seeing as we're strangers.” Luca D’Angelo looked much like Sophie: handsome with dark olive skin and regal features; he possessed dark eyes and light brown curly hair that spilled over his forehead. Michelle guessed him to be about William’s age. His eyes held a mildly surprised look, and then he smiled. Unlike William’s warm grin, this smile oozed an insincere charm. His dark eyes flashed with something like a challenge. On some women, Michelle supposed that look would work magic, but to her it seemed slimy. Careful not to show her revulsion outwardly, Michelle smiled politely and she threaded her arm through William’s.
“She is clever, too,” Luca said, looking at William. “You lucky bastard... where did you find her?” William chuckled.
“You know I’d never tell you,” he said, smiling. “Nice girls like Michelle have to hide from suave heartbreakers, like you.”
“That is not nice,” the man said, narrowing his eyes at William. “Tell me then...” Luca said, looking back down at Michelle. “Does she have a sister?”
Michelle rolled her eyes at this and looked away, causing both men to laugh.
“The lady is tired of your drivel already, Luca,” William said, grinning. “That has to be some kind of record.” He looked down at Michelle affectionately. “Shall we go eat, love?” Michelle looked up at him, her sweet smile blossoming and lighting up her whole face. Luca saw this transformation and finished his drink in one gulp.
“Completely unfair,” he proclaimed, with a sniff. “You live like a celibate monk for six years and wind up with a goddess.” Michelle wrinkled her nose.
“Hardly, sir,” she quipped; she was careful to keep her tone soft. “A goddess would not have put up with such banal
discussion.” William threw back his head and laughed. Luca's flabbergasted expression was priceless. Not much rattled the debonair Italian and he privately savored the moment.
“Come, darling,” William said, smirking. “Let’s sit for dinner; I’m famished.” Sophie materialized beside them.
“This way!” she said brightly. “Dinner is ready now.” She threw her son a warning glance before leading the way across the ballroom floor. Luca followed a little ways behind them, grimacing at his empty glass.
The dining ‘room’ seemed more like a wide hall, separated from the ballroom by a series of graceful, open arches. Michelle liked this design very much. One could eat, talk and watch the dancers all at once. It was much different than a stuffy, formal room. Sophie stopped by one side of the lengthy table and showed them their seats. To Michelle’s dismay, her place card was not by William’s; she was instead seated between Luca and Alfred. Seeing her expression, Sophie laughed.
“Oh, my dear, do not look so chagrined,” she said. “One should never sit lovebirds together; always they make the eyes at one another and say nothing to their other companions.”
In spite of her shyness, Michelle felt obligated to respond; nothing would be worse than being near that Luca character without William to lean on.
“But, some conversation is better than none, ma’am,” she found herself saying. Sophie looked at her with amusement, one eyebrow arched.
“How do you mean?” she asked, smiling. Michelle shifted her feet slightly.
“Not to be rude, but I’m very shy… and well, without William nearby I’d feel so awkward that I wouldn’t say one word.” She managed to say it without her voice trembling; the last thing she wanted to do was seem rude or ungrateful.
Sophie narrowed her eyes at Michelle; her smile grew very wide. She glanced up at William. He appeared to be trying not to laugh.
Draw Me A Picture Page 20