Symphony No. 4 in E Minor, Op 98 IV. Allegro energico e passionatto

The ballroom at Wintersley Manor was once again a personification of elegance and refinement, echoing with a symphony of sights and sounds.

The large mirrors adorning the walls played with the flickering candlelight, casting mesmerising shadows that danced in rhythm with the lively strains of a cotillon. The quartet, led by the ever-exuberant Christopher Tolnay, performed with an animated vibrancy that charged the air with irresistible energy.

The air was alive with a fresh, invigorating palette of colours. Ladies dressed in gowns of soft pastels and vibrant jewel tones spun across the floor. Lush lilacs, delicate pinks, and creamy ivories created a visual symphony that fluttered and swayed in harmony with the cotillon. The silver and sapphire embroidery on their dresses added whimsical charm and understated elegance.

Gentlemen were adorned in hints of plum, gold, and even a daring dash of emerald amidst the classic blues and greys. Buttons of polished brass and silk cravats subtly elevated their outfits, combining contemporary style with traditional sophistication.

As the music played, couples twirled and glided across the ballroom floor. A woman in a peach-coloured gown with silver embroidery danced elegantly with her partner, attired in a rich burgundy waistcoat. Their coordinated movements created a compelling visual that was both graceful and dynamic.

Another pair, one in sea-foam green and the other in a deep navy ensemble, performed a series of precise turns and graceful dips. Their contrasting outfits came together in a stunning display of synchronicity and style.

The ballroom was a riotous blend of colour and sound, the evening unfolding like a vibrant painting brought to life.

An undercurrent of tension threaded through some of the assembled guests. Charlotte paced restlessly, her fiery spirit and youthful vivacity on full display. Her hands clenched, knuckles pale against the backdrop of her pink ruffled dress.

Beside her, Lady Fitzroy exuded a calming presence that offered Charlotte a reassuring air of tranquillity. Clad in a gown that mirrored the colours of nature she so cherished, she gave her a gentle, supportive smile. Her serene bearing served as an anchor amidst the surrounding turmoil.

The ball was in full swing, lively tunes filling the grand hall. Amidst the laughter and gaiety, Lady Wintersley stood fixed to the spot, scanning the room frantically.

“Your Grace, you are positively pale,” said Charlotte with concern. “Whatever is the matter?”

“It is Helena and Thomas. They have not arrived yet, and I do not know where they could be.”

“I did not know Thomas would be present!” exclaimed Charlotte. “That will make—”

Lady Wintersley grasped Charlotte’s arm. “I may have… I may have made an error in judgement.”

“Your Grace?” Charlotte began to fear the worst.

“I allowed Helena to accept Thomas’ advances. She informed me today that he had visited her alone! He asked for her company tonight without my counsel! I do not know what to do!”

Reverend Karey, ever the pillar of capability and constancy, appeared and led Lady Wintersley outside. Charlotte began to walk back and forth, trying to recall a task she was supposed to have done. She stopped abruptly in her worried pacing, her wide eyes snapping to Lady Fitzroy. “I did not inform Ana about our plan.”

Lady Fitzroy’s serene expression faltered momentarily, replaced by a mask of worry. “Oh, dear! We must ensure she is not taken by surprise. We have a responsibility to her, especially in light of… well, everything.”

Charlotte nodded vigorously, wringing the folds of her dress in an involuntary display of nervousness. “We should remain close to her,” said she, urgently.

“Indeed, we should,” agreed Lady Fitzroy. “It is the least we can do.”

At that moment, Jack and Ana entered; his arm linked with hers. The room seemed to hush; even the music appeared to quieten at their appearance together.

He was clad in a dark grey tailcoat, impeccably tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and trim waist. The fabric caught the dim light with a subtle sheen. Beneath this, he wore a crisp white shirt, while his waistcoat—a deep gold—was at least three years out of fashion. His trousers, a lighter shade of grey, were cut close to the form and highlighted his athletic build.

Ana, the epitome of regal beauty, was draped in an emerald gown that seemed to have been woven from the very essence of elegance itself. The dress embraced her figure just below the bosom with a delicately pleated band before descending into a flowing waterfall of silk.

Around the hem bloomed an exquisite garland of hand-stitched red rose appliqués, each petal catching the light and casting subtle shadows upon the fabric. Adorned with modest rosettes at the shoulders and featuring a gentle scoop neckline, the bodice framed her face with understated allure.

A fine gossamer shawl edged in matching emerald lace rested upon her shoulders; within the soft luminescence cast by chandeliers overhead, Ana appeared not merely as a guest but as a goddess of summer whose presence commanded admiration from all who beheld her.

As a discreet homage to Ana, he sported on his lapel a copper rose boutonnière, and her arm was bereft of the black ribbon. As they made their way into the room, the rose and the absence of ribbon did not go unnoticed by the spectators; it was unusual for a gentleman to wear a flower in the first place, and Ana had donned that ribbon for nearly a decade. Both of these peculiarities prompted a flurry of gossip and speculation.

Ana’s cheeks subtly flushed, but she maintained her composure—a picture of grace under scrutiny. Jack wore a stoic expression that betrayed little of the tumultuous emotions brewing beneath his composed exterior. He tightened his grip on Ana’s arm, to which she responded with a silent clasp of reassurance.

“Anastasia, my dear!” Lady Fitzroy emerged from the crowd, her tired-looking husband in tow. “You look radiant as always.”

“Thank you, Lady Fitzroy,” Ana replied with a gracious smile.

Mrs Hargreaves, in her vibrant burgundy gown, approached them with the enthusiasm of a child in a sweet shop. “What an entrance, you two!” exclaimed she excitedly. Beside her, Mr Hargreaves chuckled and offered Jack a firm handshake.

Charlotte, youthful and vivacious in her sky-blue gown, linked her arm with Lady Fitzroy’s. “You never said you were going to be here together! I mean, we knew you were both coming but…”

Jack turned to look at Ana, his sage-green eyes meeting her copper ones. She returned his gaze with bold, glowing warmth. A moment passed between them—a shared understanding, a silent affirmation of their mutual affection.

As they exchanged the glance, and became clearly oblivious to those around them, the others shared a look of collective amazement. It was a refreshing change that warmed their hearts to see two isolated individuals finding happiness in each other’s company.

The night air was cool as Reverend Karey and Lady Wintersley ventured into the manicured gardens. Stars twinkled like tiny diamonds against the inky expanse. They walked toward the little greenhouses at one end, scanning for any sign of the tardy couple.

A silhouette emerged from one of the houses. They recognized Helena instantly—her golden hair shimmering in the soft moonlight. Her cheeks were flushed, her dress slightly crumpled. She looked at them with an expression that was both bashful and guilt-ridden.

Thomas emerged right behind her, his cravat askew and a satisfied grin plastered across his face. His smile faltered upon seeing them but quickly regained his composure. “Your Grace; Reverend Karey.”

“Thomas, Miss Helena,” Reverend Karey responded evenly, though the gravity of the situation was clear in his eyes.

Lady Wintersley regarded Helena with an expression of sheer horror. Meanwhile, Helena’s gaze flitted everywhere but to her mother, avoiding the inevitable confrontation.

Thomas extended his arm to Helena, who accepted it in silence. He then proceeded to escort her towards the front of the house without further ado.

The grand entrance doors swung open once more, commanding silence throughout the room. Thomas strode in with Helena on his arm, exuding an air of haughty satisfaction in his finely tailored suit, straight from the latest pages of London fashion.

Helena, on the other hand, was the very picture of innocent glamour. She wore a gown of purest white with delicate lacework that complemented her youthful elegance. A wreath of baby’s breath adorned her hair, lending an almost ethereal charm to her appearance.

Thomas’ entrance sent a ripple of restlessness through the room. Jack’s fingers tightened around Ana’s arm, his face becoming taut as he watched his brother parade through the crowd with a smug smile on his face. Sensing his tension, Ana shot him a concerned look, but Jack shook his head slightly in dismissal.

As Thomas passed, some of the men greeted him, and he was the epitome of warmth and gentility. He shared a laugh with one and inquired after another’s wife with genuine interest.

Over the past week, Thomas had been engaged in quiet endeavours within the town, sowing seeds of discord where opportunity presented itself. The discovery that most townsfolk possessed scant knowledge about his brother rendered it a relatively simple task for him to persuade them to adopt his viewpoint.

Tonight, he would reveal to all the true nature of his brother. And on this night, there would be neither blocks of wood nor unexpected feats of strength.

Lady Fitzroy observed the man with a discerning eye. Charlotte stood beside her, tugging at her dress as she watched Helena walk arm in arm with Thomas—so clearly infatuated. Her heart went out to the younger girl, filled with hope against hope that this would not conclude in disaster.

Thomas and Helena continued their procession across the ballroom, and gradually, the murmur of conversation resumed. Yet there was an undercurrent of tension; altering the atmosphere within the room.

“Jack.” Thomas’ unctuous voice sliced through the ambient hum of conversation, “It is so good to see you here.”

Jack tightened his grip on Ana’s hand so subtly it was almost imperceptible. Nausea roiled in his stomach, yet he managed to force a neutral expression onto his face. “Thomas,” said he, managing to acknowledge his brother with a controlled deep voice.

“Ah, Anastasia,” Thomas cooed, shifting his attention to the flustered woman beside Jack. The corner of his mouth curled upwards into a smirk as he spoke. “How delightful it is to see you once more.”

A ripple of whispers susurrated discordantly from their vicinity, fading into the sudden silence of the room. The use of her first name in such a manner was rather pointed…

Ana’s heart pounded within her chest, and she cast a quick, nervous glance at Jack who attempted to offer her a smile. She mustered her own strained smile, endeavouring to feign ignorance. “We have… met?” queried she, trembling despite her attempts at casualness.

Thomas’ smirk deepened. “Of course, my dear. Have you already forgotten the delightful time we shared?” His insinuation, a barb cruelly disguised, sent shockwaves through the assembled crowd and piqued their curiosity about the unfolding drama.

Cheeks aflame, she clung tightly to Jack’s. “I believe, sir, you are mistaken. I do not recall such an encounter.” She endeavoured to imbue her words with confidence to quell the whispers burgeoning around them.

“Indeed?” Thomas feigned surprise, though his eyes gleamed with malevolent amusement. “How peculiar.” He shrugged nonchalantly before redirecting his attention to Jack. “It appears our lovely Anastasia is afflicted by a most tragic lapse in memory.”

The muscles in Jack’s jaw visibly straining, he met Ana’s eyes, wide with fear and embarrassment, silently pleading for support. Ana was engulfed in a whirlwind of confusion and anxiety and all he could hope for was that his tightening grip served as an anchor.

“Will you not say a word in your lady’s defence, Jack?”

“She is not mine, Thomas. She belongs to herself.”

“Do not be absurd; if you do not claim her, another will.”

Anger flared within Ana at his blatant mockery of Jack, melting the cold fear that had filled her at his entrance. “Why are you here, Thomas?”

Thomas sniggered, turning his full attention towards her, causing her to recoil slightly. “I am here to speak the truth—not of you, naturally. That tale I shall reserve for a more opportune moment.”

He was evidently savouring the tension that his words were generating and cast an appreciative glance at Jack’s twitching temple. “Oh, very good,” said he with wicked glee. “I see you are managing to restrain yourself admirably.”

Consumed with the urge to erase the smug expression from Thomas’ face, Jack recognized the necessity of self-control. This was not a petty squabble between boys over a plaything; they were gentlemen engaged in discourse at a ball.

In a voice that carried more volume than necessary, Thomas continued, “But it appears that discipline is slipping, would you not agree?” His insinuation lingered in the air as an unspoken challenge to Jack’s composure.

“I am quite… composed, I assure… you, Thomas,” Jack responded.

“Yes, but when will you cease to be composed, Captain?” A voice emerged from the crowd, prompting Jack to stiffen as Thomas’ grin broadened.

“What have… you done?” Jack, his throat suddenly dry, scarcely managed to elevate the words above a whisper.

“I have merely spoken the truth, Jack. You seclude yourself because you lack self-control. You are a thief and a prevaricator. You stole from your kin, and then you fled.” Upon hearing this, Ana withdrew slightly from Jack’s side and let go of his hand. With her departure, Jack felt as though a fragment of his very being had been rent asunder, while Thomas pressed on with evident glee.

“And yet, you go to war and ascend to the rank of captain?” He emitted a derisive snort. “I am astonished they permitted you to enlist; after all, one must be of sound mind.”

The assembly parted, revealing Mrs Hargreaves, Lady Fitzroy, and Charlotte as they made their way towards Ana. She regarded them with an expression of fearful anxiety. Lady Fitzroy took her gently by the arm. She allowed herself to be led toward the crowd a step, then stopped and turned to watch.

Jack bestowed upon her a single agonised glance, one of utter dejected acceptance that her choice was the correct one, that this was as expected, before recomposing his countenance to its prior state, erecting an invisible barrier between them as he pivoted back to face Thomas.

“I am… indeed of… sound mind, Thomas.”

“Utter that sentence without hesitation, then.”

A rustle swept through the room once more. Jack felt the dreaded prickle at the back of his eyes. This was a grave injustice. Thomas was well aware that he struggled with articulation; it had always been a source of great amusement to him as a boy. The unfairness of it all! History was repeating itself, and once again, his brother was at its crux.

Thomas persisted, a cruel smile playing at his lips. “Do you still hear those voices? The ‘noises’ that no one else can hear?” His smirk took on a malevolent cast, permitting the full import of his words to permeate the atmosphere of the room. “Are we not entitled to question such a dramatic transformation? Captain Clifton your accounts of valiant exploits may beguile some, yet they fail to hoodwink me.”

“Thomas?” inquired Helena, her soft utterance commanding attention. She had retreated from his side during his oration, and now stood bathed in the glow of a grand chandelier that cast a radiant light upon her golden tresses.

“What is the meaning of this?” Helena’s voice quivered as Charlotte quietly came to stand by her side. The two gentlemen remained silent; Thomas with a vindictive grin, and Jack, whose features were carved deep with desolation. “What in heaven’s name are you about?”

Thomas turned to her, the very picture of self-assurance. “Helena, my dear, we are merely engaged in a matter between brothers.”

“But Captain Clifton, he is our friend, is he not? Mother speaks so highly of him.” Her gaze darted between the two men, a heartbreaking naivety shining in her eyes as she struggled to grasp the situation that was unravelling before her.

“You do not comprehend the gravity of the situation, my dear. Do you imagine that I desired to divulge our family secrets in such a public manner? Circumstances have compelled me; this disgrace of a man has forced my hand. I am present before these witnesses tonight to seek recompense for his deeds. The reason I stand here, rather than seeking a private audience with him, is because Jack endeavoured to take my life, and he has not faced justice for his crime.”

Helena stood immobilised by shock; her fingers entwined in the fabric of her gown. Her mind, still imbued with a trusting simplicity, refused to accept the notion as she pivoted towards Jack. “Can this be true?”

Jack was deaf to her plea, blind to all but the woman before him, garbed in emerald and gazing at him with an expression of horror.

The layers of cloth he had so carefully put together around that night began to tear apart. For the first time, he permitted himself to face the full extent of his intentions on that fateful day—the darkness that had lain dormant within him all along.

“I… It is… true.”

The admission of his dark desires emerged in a whisper, the words slipping from his lips as if they were a prisoner fleeing into freedom before the doors clanged shut. It was swiftly consumed by the oppressive silence that pervaded the room.

Thomas’ smirk broadened into a full-fledged grin. “You could not even utter that without hesitation. Is speaking the truth so arduous for you?”

The room was in a state of shock, gasps and murmurs of doubt rippled through the assembled crowd. A collective, palpably antagonistic, realisation seemed to rise slowly as the admission resonated among them.

Jack desperately wished to reveal the truth: that it was Thomas who had murdered their parents in a fire, Thomas who had orchestrated the way he reacted that night, and Thomas whose actions towards Miss Hartford merited death.

Ana beheld in Jack's eyes the years of deceit and betrayal that Thomas had inflicted upon him; he possessed no other means to articulate his suffering than to wear it openly upon his countenance. This gentleman, her gentleman, was not without flaws; yet she had never yearned for perfection. In truth, she had almost forgotten what desire was until he entered her life. She longed to belong to him, for with him she could become anything. Not merely a woman who was demure and dignified—she aspired for more than that, and he bestowed upon her the power to embrace a greater self.

She turned away from the throng, shook off Mrs Hargreaves' hand, and returned to his side. The assembly began to murmur as Jack regarded her with astonishment. Bestowing upon him a dazzling smile of reassurance, she wrapped her arm around his, and the chasm that had been yawning closed between them.

A hush descended upon the room as Reverend Karey advanced and nodded at Thomas, a polite smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Mr Clifton. Your theatrics have slightly adjusted the course of the evening, as we had this prepared for Captain Clifton, however, we are nothing if not malleable. Now, if I may,” said he, shifting his focus to the matter at hand. “What we require now is clarity. Truth.”

A distinct look of distrust had settled onto Thomas at these words.

Addressing the assembly, Reverend Karey declared, “Thomas has arrived in our tranquil town with a manifest intent to disrupt our peace. Captain Clifton, notwithstanding his reclusive disposition, has conducted himself as nothing less than a respectful member of our community. Thomas has been among us but a few weeks, and already at his inaugural ball, he orchestrates a spectacle fit for the pages of chapbooks.”

Allowing a moment for his words to resonate, Reverend Karey withdrew a document from his pocket. “Herein lies a report secured by Lord William Fitzroy, the second Duke of Northumberland .”

The emphasis was not lost on anyone.