Serenade for Strings in C Major, Op. 48, II. Valse

Lucy returned from morning tea and held a letter aloft, her countenance full of excitement. “An invitation! A soirée this weekend.”

Anastasia looked up from her embroidery and accepted the letter from Lucy, her gaze drifting to the painting of an abbey in ruins upon the wall.

The vexing encounter with Lady Wintersley from yesterday replayed in her mind, and the prospect of attending the ball meant confronting her once more, but on a much grander scale. Moreover, it was quite probable that an invitation had been sent to Captain Clifton.

The mere thought of him stirred a flurry in her heart. Would he be among the lavishly dressed throng? Could their eyes meet across the crowded ballroom? The hope of seeing him, of sharing more than polite nods and fleeting smiles, filled her with a terrified delight.

She longed for an authentic exchange with him, far from the scrutinising gaze of society. Yet she could not dispel the recollection of that instant in the bookshop when his countenance had altered at the memory of her first words to him. Her swift ire was not a detail she desired for him to associate with their initial encounter.

Lucy interrupted her reverie. “Are you well? You seem a bit out of sorts.”

Anastasia sighed, the weight of her disheartening confusion pressing upon her. “It is the women of our town who trouble me.”

“Oh, your friends?” said Lucy as she bustled into the kitchen to procure some tea. “Is this one of their schemes?”

“No, not this time. It is Lady Wintersley who fills me with uncertainty.”

“Lady Wintersley?”

“Indeed, you remember she happened to witness my encounter with Captain Clifton at the bookshop.”

“Of course,” called Lucy from the kitchen, “she made quite a spectacle of the matter at morning tea.”

Lucy returned with a tray, and Anastasia’s cheeks flushed with a delicate shade of crimson at the memory of Lady Wintersley’s words.

“Perhaps she is not entirely misguided,” remarked Lucy, sipping her tea with a mischievous smile.

Anastasia’s Shrewsbury almost fell into her cup. “What on earth do you mean?”

“Merely that life occasionally presents unexpected opportunities, and we should be receptive to them. It strikes me that he could represent one such opportunity.”

“He… he could be,” said Anastasia, then broke the biscuit in half. “But I am uncertain of the sentiments he harbours towards me.”

Realising that Anastasia was truly at odds with herself, Lucy took half of the biscuit from her hand with a look of understanding. “The heart possesses a curious wisdom. It often discerns its desires before our conscious mind comprehends. Perhaps it is time to heed what your heart is striving to communicate.”

“I must concede there is merit in your words… but I cannot bear the thought of becoming fodder for idle town gossip.”

“And you shall not be, not if we can manage it. Just bear in mind that we cannot govern the tongues of others. Our control lies in our reaction to their words.”

Anastasia set her cup down with a loud clack upon the china plate. “I shall not allow myself to be manipulated as a mere pawn in Lady Wintersley’s frivolous social chess game. My liberty holds too great a value for me… But… but how does one retain independence in a world determined to strip it away? And… he… complicates matters.”

“The future is a mystery, dear.” Lucy shrugged pragmatically; her tea cup poised at her lips. “Perhaps it would be best to attend the ball and see what transpires.”

Although Lucy offered counsel with the kindest of intentions, it merely intensified Anastasia’s apprehension, and she responded irritably. “I am well aware of the path that lies ahead. I do not need you or anyone to tell me where I should go.”

Immediately, she regretted her impatience as tea splashed from Lucy’s cup. She reached for a cloth on the tray and began to clean up the spill in apologetic silence.

Understanding that Anastasia was struggling, Lucy helped her clean up and gave her a moment to collect her thoughts.

Anastasia was determined not to upset her old friend. Their bond was of immeasurable worth, and Lucy so dearly loved the preparations that come with a ball. Moreover, it had been an age since she had last attended such an event. With a deep inhalation, she steeled herself and spoke with resolve: “I value your counsel, and if you believe this is what I should do, then…” She hesitated before continuing with the same determination. “I shall go.”

“You will?” Surprise flickered across Lucy’s face upon hearing the declaration.

Anastasia affirmed her decision with a subtle smile, pouring more tea into Lucy’s cup.

Exhilaration stirred beneath the apprehension within her, and the spark of satisfaction in Lucy’s gaze rendered the risk worthwhile. Though the future, regardless of her statement, remained beyond her control, she was prepared to meet it with courage.

Lucy regarded her thoughtfully as she sipped her tea.

Anastasia felt colour spread across her neck at her expression. “It seems you have some further thoughts on the matter.”

“I… well, we must ensure that you have everything necessary for the evening. Preparedness is always advantageous, after all.” Lucy’s pink cheeks gave away more than she said.

Acknowledging the unspoken reference to Captain Clifton, they both felt their blushes deepen.

“He is quite an enigmatic figure,” said Lucy after a while. She realised she still had a gingerbread halfway to her mouth, and took a bite.

Anastasia picked up her tea and gazed into it thoughtfully. “His military exploits were heralded across the pages of the gazette upon learning he would take up residence here. His arrival indeed caused a stir, yet in person, he merely proffered a handshake or an affable nod to those who sought his attention before retreating to his estate. A handsome war hero who conceals himself behind those formidable hedges is a curiosity within our village. His predilection for solitude only amplifies the enigma that surrounds him. It leads me to ponder if—” Realising she had been prattling on, she took a sip of her tea.

The peculiar manner in which Captain Clifton shied away from discussions of his bravery was a subject that had sparked much curiosity, and of course, the inevitable disbelief.

Lucy, smiling slightly, spoke around her gingerbread. “Do you believe the stories to be true?”

“Those of the war? Why, pray tell, would they not be?”

Lucy blinked at the sudden defensiveness in Anastasia’s voice. “I merely meant that I agree, it is curious.”

Anastasia took Lucy’s hand in apology, and in that moment, they felt the strength of their friendship. “Whatever outcome awaits, I am confident that we shall face it together. As we always have.”

A sparkle of light danced in Lucy’s eyes, and the tension that had lingered earlier fully dissipated. “Indeed, we shall.”

With those words, the two friends set about their preparations for the ball.