He is striking, or at least my friends would think so, with dark hair and a devilish grin. And somehow, even from the distance between us, I can see he has green eyes that are piercing, not unlike Roland’s. And it bothers me, because I know I have seen him somewhere before, though I cannot remember where.
Ever perceptive, Roland notices my distraction.
“What’s wrong, my love?”
I panic. Without understanding why, I lie to him.
“It’s my sister. It is difficult for me to enjoy myself completely in this joyous moment, when I know she is distressed.”
“Is it just her jealousy, to see you engaged before she is?”
Gregory and Philippa are far enough away that they will not overhear what I have to say. I speak softly, so that only Roland will hear.
I lean in, just a bit closer to him.
“The one she loves has now been promised to another.”
“It matters not,” he says, with a smile. “Soon enough, all of the eligible bachelors in London will be flocking to her, seeking out her hand in marriage.”
“The heart wants what it wants. I fear she will never be content with another. And it makes me saddened, to see her so unhappy.”
“And that is something I simply cannot have,” Roland says, with a knowing smile. “But fear not, things might still turn out in a way that will please Marjorie. And for now, let us see if we can at least help her to enjoy the night.”
Roland looks off, over the crowd of dancers and partygoers, and his eyes find the handsome, dark-haired man. And the stranger looks back, connecting their gaze. And for a brief moment, it feels unsettling somehow, that something passes between them.
I can see the handsome man leave the party to walk out toward the garden, where Marjorie went.
Within moments, the music starts again, and Roland offers me his hand. Though I am exhausted, the joy of being near him and the excitement of being able to openly enjoy his company empower me, and we begin dancing once more.
Soon after, I see my sister walk back into the party on the arm of the brunette stranger. By some magic, she is smiling, and they begin to dance.
Immediately, Gregory Lawlor’s face flashes anger toward the couple, which makes Marjorie smile even more widely. And I cannot help but to smile too.
“Who is that man dancing with Marjorie?”
“That is my brother, Adam,” Roland says. “So rude of me, I should have introduced him sooner. But you will meet them all soon enough.”
And I realize I know so little about his family.
And I wonder exactly how flighty Marjorie is. Because already, she seems to have forgotten about Gregory Lawlor. She seems truly happy to be with this new young man.
“How fortunate he has asked her to dance. Her spirits already seem to be lifting.”
“It is more than just good fortune. I asked him to dance with her.”
“When was this?” I say.
Was I right? Did some unspoken communication pass between them?
“When we were preparing for tonight’s event. I assumed she might be a bit upset, to see her younger sister marry first, as uncharitable toward her as that might sound. And he is a very charming young man. I asked him to help lift her spirits, if the need arose.”
“You were exactly right,” I say, filled with wonder. “That was quite kind of you.”
And I smile. In this moment, I know that Roland is truly magical, to have anticipated my needs before they were even spoken. Truly, he is a blessing.
As perfect as this moment is, to see Marjorie happy and Gregory Lawlor annoyed, to be dancing with the love of my life, I cannot help but to feel a pang of discontent to watch his brother, Adam, dancing with my sister. And I am not sure what it is. It most certainly cannot be jealousy, because I wish for nothing more than for her to find a love of her own.
And when he looks over at me again, I feel a chill. Because I know him from somewhere, I have heard the name before. But from where? Have I seen him at another party? Have my friends gossiped about him?
Looking up at Roland, I realize the obvious, that he seems familiar to me in the same way, that perhaps we have all met somewhere before this. Which makes no sense. But I know it will come back to me, and I will come to understand the nature of these feelings.
But for now, the night is a wondrous occasion which I will remember for the rest of my life. The only thing on which I need to dwell is the pleasantness of my dance with Roland and the newfound joy he will undoubtedly bring into my life. And perhaps the greatest happiness of all that he has brought me is knowing that my family’s fortunes are restored, and that only good luck and contentment seem to lie on the horizon for us all.
Chapter Seven: The Elders
It is several days later, after my debut at the Admiral’s Ball, and Father seems happy as we all sit at the breakfast table. He is a transformed man, and I don’t need anyone to tell me that it is because his business is back on track. Even Marjorie seems to have recovered from the announcement of Gregory Lawlor’s marriage. She spent the night on the arm of one eligible bachelor after another, twirling about the dance floor, though I am sure she still feels a quiet longing for her true love.
And I, of course, am daydreaming about Roland. He has been forced to take a short trip to Ireland, to attend to company matters. Already, I am experiencing what it is like to be an important businessman’s wife, and I long to be with him again. I have asked Mother to expedite our wedding in any way that she possibly can, and she seems receptive to the idea, even though extensive arrangements must be made for the event. But in the meantime, I am left to wait.
As we eat, our maid, Cecily, enters the room carrying a card. I am surprised, as the girl knows better than to interrupt our morning meal, and Mother scowls at her.
“I am sorry, Madame. But it is from le Bennett family. I thought that perhaps it was important.”
Marjorie takes it from her.
“It looks like an invitation.”
“Well, at the very least let Caroline open it. He is her fiancée, after all,” Mother says.
My sister hands it to me with a scowl on her face, and I tear open the envelope. There is, in fact, a card. And a note from Roland inside.
“It is an invitation. The Bennetts are throwing a party. They wish to present themselves to London society before our engagement celebration.”
What I don’t tell them about is Roland’s message to me. He sends regrets that he won’t be able to see me before the night of the party, and says that he eagerly awaits the moment when we are together again. It, of course, makes my heart flutter.
“A party. That sounds absolutely delightful,” Marjorie says.
“Of course, you will send an acceptance on our behalf,” Mother tells me.
And I wonder what it will be like, to finally meet my future family-to-be.
The night of the party quickly arrives, and Roland sends a carriage for my family. But what pulls up to our home is unexpected; a grand vehicle, drawn by six horses. It is jet black and has decorative embellishments and curlicues carved into its side that are golden in color. And for a moment, I suspect it is more than just paint, and that the designs are made of actual gold.
From our position at the curb, you can see the red velvet padding that lines the inside of the cabin, and Mother raises her eyebrows, questioningly. I’m sure she finds it to be garish, but the carriage is nonetheless impressive and most certainly expensive. She cannot completely disapprove. The vehicle reminds me of something a storybook princess would ride in, and once again, I feel as though I am living within a daydream.
Its extravagant nature impresses Marjorie too. Her eyes expand to the size of saucers, and she leans toward me, and whispers.
“This carriage looks like the one the Queen rides in! It’s brand new! It must have cost a fortune.”
“Well, Roland’s family has just moved back to England. It would only seem logical that they would need new things.”
We step inside, and begin our ride into the heart of London. Madeline has not come with us tonight, as she was feeling ill, but it does not seem to matter. Marjorie and I are suddenly fast friends, more so than we have ever been in the past. The shock of Gregory Lawlor’s engagement has quickly faded, and news of our company’s survival has improved her prospects dramatically. She and Mother have been invited to one tea party after another by respected matron’s across the city, all eager to negotiate their sons’ marriage to my sister. And Marjorie has come to see me as having value, a kind of perceived power from my connection to Roland’s wealth and influence.
Yet, it makes me sad to think that my sister has only learned to like me as part of a strategic alliance.
“Do you think Adam will be at the party tonight?” she asks.
The mention of his name shocks me, like a slap across the face.
“It is a family event. I imagine he would be,” I say.
“I do hope he’s not away on business,” she says, absentmindedly. “You should have sent Roland a card to inquire. I would most like to see him again.”
“Why is that? I thought he did not sway your heart.”
“That is not true,” Marjorie says, filled with mock shock and dismay. “I would very much like to get to know him better. Adam is quite handsome, and he seems to have an equally large share of the family business. Perhaps, very soon, the Caldwells will have the entire Bennett fortune in the palm of our hands!”
Marjorie rolls back her head and laughs giddily, as Father smiles, pleased with her bright demeanor.
The thought of Marjorie seducing Adam annoys me, though I’m not sure why. Is it envy, that her romantic prospects no longer seem crushed, as they had once been? This cannot be, as I have Roland, who is far more appealing than any of her suitors. But I’m not quite sure what my strange feelings for his brother are. Roland gave us only the most brief of introductions on the night of the Admiral’s Ball, and Adam spent the rest of the evening dancing with all of the eligible women, along with Marjorie. And Roland has been so loving to me, I could never so much as look at another.
But then, what do I know of love? I have been thrown into marriage at a young age, and have little experience with romance, beyond the stories that have unfurled in my imagination.
I think my displeasure most likely stems from the thought of seeing Adam’s life wasted on someone frivolous, like my sister. But it seems best to put his fate out of my mind, as it is at best tangential to mine.
Looking out the window, I expect to see our carriage traversing one of London’s fashionable districts, and perhaps spy the homes of some of my friends. But we seem to be directed toward the water, an area that is downtrodden and dangerous. The dockyards are there, a place where criminals dwell, a home to the lower classes. In fact, I can see a hint of the water between the buildings we pass, and it makes no sense that we would be headed this way.
Mother seems to notice too, and looks to Father with questioning eyes. But he seems unperturbed.
“Where is it that we are going, exactly?”
“Coventry Park.”
“Coventry Park? And the Bennetts live there?” Mother asks, with a hint of dismay.
“They most certainly do.”
I am likewise shocked, and am tempted to ask if the driver can turn back. Coventry Park is just west of the dockyards, a place where scurrilous people dwell. And it is as bad if not worse. It seems strange that Roland would even live there, and I cannot help but to wonder if this is right.
“The Bennetts are an enterprising family,” Father says. “They are buying up large parts of Coventry Park, and intend to rehabilitate the area. Soon it will be one of the most fashionable districts in all of London.”
“And as noble as that effort may be, perhaps it would be best if we visited when their task is complete.”
“But it is too late,” Father says. “We are already here.”
He chuckles, and it would seem our beloved patriarch finds great amusement in his family’s discomfort. The carriage slows to a stop and its driver quickly steps out. We tentatively venture outside, and even the man who has driven us here seems to notice the hesitation on our part.
“Don’t worry, young miss. You won’t be bothered here. The locals wouldn’t dare.”
And he winks at me in a most inappropriate manner, which I find unsettling. The driver is young and handsome, far more so than most servants I have seen, with dark hair and a chin that juts out with an appealing dimple at its end. He has gleaming white teeth and seems healthy, unlike some of the working class, who tend to wheeze and sputter. And I wonder what brought him to this low place in life. Even Marjorie notices his appeal, and gives him a smile that she would normally reserve for a gentleman of her class.
I try not to stare, but my eyes dart back to the man with a will of their own. Beyond his pleasant features, there is an odd gleam to his eye, and a certain sharpness of his teeth that I find to be unnatural. And I have to force myself to look away.
Instead, I spy our surroundings, and concerns over the driver quickly disappear from my mind.
We look up, and I know the others are as dumbfounded as I am by the sight before our eyes. We have been brought to a huge mansion, the likes of which Coventry Park has never seen before. Its scale dwarfs even our own home. Huge white columns stand like sentinels guarding its front, which has rows and rows of windows. The building looms high before us, and I feel as though I am looking up the face of a cliff. A home next to it is equally spectacular in scale, and next to that is an empty lot, which is filled with carriages from the night’s event, far more than I would have imagined. It would seem that the environs have not scared off any of the other guests.
I am dumbfounded. This cannot be the same Coventry Park we have heard spoken of before.
Father looks up at the manor and beams, and Marjorie smiles in a way that shows she clearly approves.
“Did I not tell you the Bennetts are developing Coventry Park? It will not be long before all of your friends are fighting to live here.”
Yet, not all parts of the neighborhood are quite so appealing. Sections of the block across the street still lie in disrepair, and it gets worse the further you go. And when I peer across the way, I can see the glowing eyes of questionable characters who lurk in the shadows, just out of the reach of the street lamps. But the mansion seems far more inviting than the area that surrounds us, especially at night, and we quickly walk up its steps.
Father knocks on the front door. A butler opens it for us, and we are confronted with another strange sight. The servant holds a collection of masks that each rest on the end of a stick. They are beautiful creations made of white porcelain and feathers, with decorations of gold. And though we are confused as to their purpose, we each take one from his hands.
When we step inside, I expect to be met with more spectacle, but I am wrong. The foyer is small and somewhat unassuming for a home that is so large. It is a moderate room with dark wood panels that surround us. A few pictures in simple frames hang on the wall that depict scenes from ancient battles. Aside from the front door, there are three more portals, one on each of the remaining walls. And I cannot help but to wonder where they lead.
The entryway reminds me of something you would find in the lair of a secret society.
I look at the mask I am holding, and tentatively bring it to my face.
“Is this a masquerade party? I had no idea,” Marjorie says.
“Nor I,” Mother says, clearly displeased. And she stares at me in an accusing way.
“I most certainly did not know,” I say. “The invitation made no mention of it.”
“Apparently, this is to be a night full of surprises. How delightful,” Father exclaims. “Surely we are in for a treat!”
Yet, his enthusiasm stands out in my mind. I hav
e never known my father to show excitement over a party before.
The butler opens a door for us, the one opposite the front, and we take tentative steps through it. The room we encounter is massive, the true lobby of the home, yet what captures our attention is a beautiful melody that greets our ears. Never before have I heard a sound so sublime. It instantly soothes my soul, transporting us away from any memory of the grim nature of Coventry Park.
A woman stands before a small crowd of elegant guests, singing. She is simple in appearance; her brown hair is wrapped up in a bun, and she wears a white dress that reminds me of an angel’s vestments. But her voice rises and falls with mastery, as she sings a song from an Italian opera, to the accompaniment of four musicians playing stringed instruments who stand beside her.
I am not familiar with the piece, nor do I understand the words. But she sings with such emotion, her voice evokes such pain and sadness that it touches my heart. I somehow know her song is one of loss and unrequited love. It simply must be. And I can feel a tear trickling down my cheek. Yet, I am not alone, and see others pulling their masks away from their faces, to wipe at the corner of their eyes.
The emotions well up within me, and for a moment, I feel as though I am mourning a lost love of my own, though I have no idea who that person could be.
Though I am caught up in the beauty of her music, slowly the details of the room catch my attention. It is an epic space, even on the scale of wealth I have seen amongst our affluent friends. Black and white tiles lie at our feet in a pattern that makes me dizzy, that stretches off down wide hallways that lead to depths I cannot see. And a grand staircase curves up behind the musicians. Paintings decorate its wall, and I would not be surprised if one of them was from an Italian master, and should be hanging in a museum.
The Bennett home reminds me of a palace in Versailles.
I scan the crowd, trying to determine the identities of the partygoers around me, but it is difficult to discern what lies beneath their masks. I imagine that some of them must be members of pleasant society who we know. And guests even mill about upstairs, in what I assume are the private chambers of the home. In fact, I look up and spy three people leaning against the railing of the second floor landing, enjoying the concert, two men and a woman. And something about them intrigues me.
The Meridian Gamble Page 22