Chapter 38 - GEORGINA—THE BALL

Chapter 38

GEORGINA—THE BALL

Mr. Thom drove us in the biggest Wilcox Coal carriage. He cleaned it, buffed it to a shine, and restored the rich leather seats to make everything immaculate.

Our wonderful satin and silk gowns wouldn’t have a speck of coal dust. He handed my sisters and me inside. “Ladies, I get to escort you all to the Duke of Torrance’s ball.”

I sighed and lifted my gilded shoes. “I feel like Vasilisa, the princess. Scarlett, did she have glass slippers?”

My sister shook her head. “Highly doubt that. Shoes need to be flexible. Such a hard material would be like walking on windowpanes.”

“No, that’s not comfortable.” Lydia shook her head and lifted her feet high on the seat. Folds of calamine-blue silk curled about her pearl-colored stockings and satin slippers. “No glass.”

Scarlett’s gown of aurora red had bursts of matching orange and red beads along the hem. I think she liked the sound it made when she walked, for she swished her skirt until she climbed into the carriage.

Katherine seemed almost shy coming out of the house. The color she’d picked, even the styling wasn’t the design that arrived for her. Instead of a simple modest gray gown, she looked like a true Vasilisa. An off-white dress cut low in front, skimmed her beautiful bosom, showing off her long neck.

“If the duke didn’t want me to be in half-mourning, he should’ve just said something.”

“Kitty, he’d ordered this gown without asking, but he wanted you to shine.” I couldn’t believe she refused to see this as an act of a man who cared for her. This was the kind of man who’d forgive secrets. “You look lovely. I suppose the duke wants all eyes on you and not my exhibition.”

“Heavy-handed, but Jahleel . . . he always had nice tastes.”

Tugging on white kid gloves, she climbed inside. I followed in a bronze-green gown. Light and airy, it featured a ribbon belt with a gold buckle under my bosom.

I sat beside Scarlett and made sure my puffed sleeves, stiffened with a coarser muslin, stayed full.

“You can do this, Georgie,” Scarlett said. “You will sing in public. Everyone will realize you were merely Lord Mark’s student. No more troubles.”

“You think it that simple.” Nothing was ever that simple.

“Yes. I believe my analysis is correct. Science and logic can pick perfect pairings.”

Scarlett was more talkative, and she’d even taken more time with her hair. Delicate curls looped about her ears. There was something in her eyes. Uncertainty? Was she trying to convince herself of Mr. Carew being my right partner, or me?

Mr. Thom stuck his head inside. “Ya pa. He’d be very proud. You were his gems.”

The door closed.

The carriage began to move and I put my gloved hand to my heart, hoping it slowed enough to enjoy the sparkle of the Thames as it wished us well on the way to the ball.

* * *

The lights of Anya House burned brightly. Every window, every inch of James Street glowed as young pages wielding fiery torches waved carriages forward.

My breath caught. The duke’s home had always been impressive, but it looked like a castle set in Mayfair.

“This ball will be phenomenal,” Scarlett said. She tugged up her slipping satin gloves. “The dancing will go on and on.”

Katherine’s eyes were wide. Though she often tried to seem dispassionate, there was no hiding the pleasure that being in fashion and joining society brought.

Lydia offered a squeaky whistle. “Wow. Tavis never took us to a ball.”

“Well, he was rather busy,” Katherine said with surprising tact. But then she added, “I’m sure he would’ve if he could’ve.”

Scarlett’s lips parted.

She looked as if she was going to add a correcting remark, something that would sting and remind us again of all the ways our brother-in-law failed us.

Instead, she clamped her mouth shut and stared at the line of carriages ahead of us. “Well,” she said, “this is a good way to reintroduce society to us.”

A few minutes of waiting ended when Mr. Thom stopped right in front of Anya House.

Two grooms came to hand us down and our man-of-all-work announced us. “This is Lady Hampton and the Wilcox family. Make sure they have a good time.”

“We sound like an acting troupe.” I said this, then stopped at the first step. There were only a few to ascend before stepping into that other world.

My sisters stood behind me, but our Lydia took charge. “I want to find the duke.”

“Wait.” Katherine motioned us to the side.

Mr. Thom waved as he drove away, back to the other side of the Thames. In a few days, the duke would return us where we belonged when this fairy tale ended.

“Georgina,” Katherine said, “you don’t have to exhibit or do anything that you don’t want to do.”

She glanced at me and grabbed my hand. “If you don’t feel comfortable exhibiting tonight, you don’t have to. We won’t think any less of you. I’ll find the duke and apologize. Perhaps a ball can heal the past. We could all just be friends.”

I knew what she was saying or trying to say, but it wasn’t enough. It was my turn to sacrifice and fix things.

Capturing her gaze in mine, I said, “Make peace with the duke. It will only make things better. But tonight, I’m singing for our mother and father. This is what they always wanted, us shining in the lights. Then I will do what is best for me, for all of us.”

Her eyes reflecting mine, black with golden flecks and tears, she tapped with a lacy handkerchief. “I’m not brave enough, Georgie.”

“Yes, you are.” I gripped her hand. She gave it a little squeeze, and we followed her into the duke’s home.

It was crowded.

The music was loud.

People were talking and eating and carrying goblets of wine.

A juggler passed us in the grand hall. In a red-and-blue-striped costume, he juggled wooden balls. “Welcome!”

He shouted this at all the guests he passed, but the music was so loud it was like a whisper.

Before heading into the drawing room, Katherine stopped at a new framed portrait. “A new watercolor,” she said.

Scarlett came to her side. “Do you recognize the place or the artist?”

“It’s the place I recognized. It looks like Glasgow in the summer. She’s such a great artist.”

She? My sister knew who painted it. This was another of her secrets.

“I like colors.” Lydia twirled, her dress floating above those perfect slippers. “Maybe the duke will let me paint.”

All smiles, but we kept moving.

Then I saw Mark. He sat at a grand pianoforte, one bigger than the beauty in the music room.

He noticed me, smiled, then began a difficult piece by Mozart. Violinists accompanied him. Dancing filled the room.

Behind him, the grand portrait of Dido and Elizabeth hung. Katherine led us to chairs at the rear near a large window that illuminated the garden. Torches lined the path to the maze.

A young blond woman came near the pianoforte and sang some lovely tune, something French.

Mark, as he did with me, followed her pitch and made the notes support and elongate her tone to the greatest effect.

Applause rang when the song ended.

He took her hand and they both bowed.

My stomach tightened, not from watching my music teacher escort this lady to dance but from the hardened gaze of an older man with graying dark hair. A taller, angrier version of Mark Sebastian glared at us, the Wilcoxes, like we didn’t belong.