Chapter Four

"Oh, Bravo, Lady Margaret, I have never witnessed such skill on the piano forte!" declared the young Earl of Barclay, applauding rapturously, along with Cassandra's parents and Cassandra herself. The Earl was seated with the Granshires in their spacious drawing room, being the latest of the four gentlemen callers that morning who had come to pay homage to the fresh-faced debutante.

"Thank you, My Lord," Maggie told him, giving him the same sweet smile she had bestowed on all her would-be be suitors so far.

"I assure you, that was the loveliest rendition of . . . er . . . that tune I have ever heard. You are a veritable virtuoso," the Earl gushed, his bright gaze fixed on Maggie, whose cheeks flushed a flattering shade of pink.

"Yes, beautifully played, as always dear," Cassandra added to the general approbation being heaped on Maggie's musical abilities. The expertly played melody had briefly transported her, it was true. However, she nonetheless felt the usual twinge of envy at the attention her sister's superior keyboard skills always seemed to elicit from any audience.

She bent her head to her embroidery once more, hiding the blush of shame that came with knowing how the green-eyed monster had dogged her since the day following Maggie's come out ball, after which a seemingly endless stream of titled admirers had been calling in hopes of winning Maggie's heart. Each time, her parents insisted that a radiant Maggie show off her musical prowess. It was all becoming quite wearing, not to say frustrating. Only yesterday, she had tackled her mother again on the subject of hiring a singing teacher for her.

"Do not be silly, dear. Have Papa and I not already told you a thousand times, anybody may sing? Granted, you have a pleasant voice, but it hardly warrants the expense of hiring a teacher. If you want to make an impression like your sister then practice your piano, that is my advice," Lady Granshire brushed her off.

"That is unfair, Mama," Cassandra had protested in disappointment. "I am as passionate about music as Maggie, but my talent lies in singing, not in playing a musical instrument. Besides, I could never outshine Maggie if I practiced the piano for a million years." She glanced down at her recalcitrant hands regretfully.

"Exactly, my dear. I understand that it is a difficult time for you, what with Maggie's come out being hailed such a resounding success in all the papers. You are bound to feel a little overshadowed by all the attention she is getting. But try not to be selfish and be content with what talents you have got. You must accept that you are not as accomplished musically as Maggie. However, you are passable on the piano and are not bad at sketching a likeness, although your embroidery could certainly do with improving," Lady Granshire had said, glancing askance at Cassandra's current effort with her needle. "Concentrate on perfecting those, and you will soon find a suitor, I am sure."

"But Mama—"

"Hush now, child. You can practice your singing as often as you like, but as to hiring a tutor, that answer is no." And that had been the end of the discussion.

"Cassandra?" her mother's voice pierced her reverie, bringing her back to the drawing room.

"Yes, Mama?" she said, giving herself a mental shake.

"The Earl is leaving now," Lady Granshire said. Indeed, the young Earl was on his feet and looking at her questioningly, as was everybody else. Feeling her cheeks growing hot, she stood up at once and curtseyed.

"Forgive me, My Lord, I was momentarily swept away by the music. I bid you good day," she told him.

"I quite understand, Lady Cassandra. I too was very moved by your sister's playing," he said with a polite smile and bow. "I wish you good day." With that, the Earl finally took his leave. Maggie came to sit next to her.

"Cassie, you really must pay more attention," she gently chided. "You shall put my suitors off if you keep woolgathering while they are speaking to you."

Cassandra sighed and cast her embroidery aside. "I am sorry, Maggie. Your playing always sends me into a dream, I'm afraid. I cannot help it," she fibbed, feeling a little guilty when Maggie smiled and patted her hand, falling for it hook, line, and sinker.

"I understand, but really, do try to pay attention in future. I do not want any of the gentlemen to think my sister is a simpleton or deaf."

"Pardon?" Cassandra said, her quicksilver wit making her cup her ear and feign deafness.

"I said—" Maggie began, her face serious.

"I heard you, you simpleton. I was jesting," Cassandra told her with a grin, squashing the envy she felt for Maggie and recalling how much she loved her. Her effort was justified when Maggie let out one of her childish giggles.

"You beast!" she cried, batting playfully at Cassandra's arm. "You are so quick, I cannot tell when you are joking," she admitted.

"Would that my wit were as sharp as your deft fingers on the pianoforte, dear sister," Cassandra said, as she proceeded to elicit gales of laughter from Maggie by gently tickling her ribs as if she were playing a melodic tune.

"Stop that at once, Cassandra!" Lady Granshire chided, frowning at her. "try to act with some decorum, will you?"

"Sorry, Mama," Cassandra sighed, stopping tormenting her sister.

It had been a somewhat trying week for Cassandra. Her musical hopes and ambitions had been crushed once again, and so she was cheered when Diana arrived later that day. Diana's parents would not be returning from a short stay with some relatives in Somerset and would likely be late to the Collins ball. Consequently, much to the girls' delight, it had been arranged that Diana would stay overnight with the Granshires. They would all travel to the ball together the following evening and meet up with her parents later in the evening.

"Shall we go up to my chamber and try our masks on?" Cassandra asked her friend after dinner.

"Oh, yes, that will be so much fun!" Diana agreed, so they went upstairs and fished out their costumes for the ball.

"Oh, your mask is so pretty," Cassandra exclaimed, admiring the glittering, silvery-blue-green sequins adorning Diana's mask. "Look how it catches the light. You make a charming mermaid."

"And you make a charming lyre bird," Diana assured her, helping Cassandra to arrange the long feathers that earned the bird its name. "The black and blue colors are iridescent and suit you so well, Cassie." They posed together before the looking glass, giggling at their reflections.

"Do we look mysterious enough, do you think?" Cassandra asked.

"Oh, deeply mysterious and intriguing, to be sure," Diana answered. "I can hardly wait to be swimming through the throng of other guests. No doubt there will be a large menagerie of both real and mythical characters on display. Oh, I forgot to say," she added, her eyes sparkling, "that Lady Madeleine has had her gardens redesigned and made into quite a feature for the occasion, with coloured illuminations and statues and fountains and the like. It is supposed to be quite spectacular."

"How fascinating. We must be sure to see it," Cassandra said, mildly intrigued. "I need something to cheer me up after all the fussing over Maggie this past week, with her army of would-be suitors. This ball promises to be the most entertaining thing that has happened so far this Season, and Mama and Papa can hardly expect me to find a suitor when everyone will be in disguise. It is the perfect excuse to enjoy myself without them breathing down my neck all the time." The idea pleased her immensely, for she longed to escape the pressure upon her to find a suitor, even if just for one night.

"Well, it certainly seems that way on the surface, but I have learned that despite people's disguises, the night will be full of secret assignations and lovers' trysts being made between couples who wish to be together," Diana assured her excitedly. "It is so romantic, and I do so wish to be a part of that. It would be wonderful to meet a gentleman I like enough to spend the rest of my life with," she mused with a dreamy expression.

"I wish I could share in your enthusiasm for finding a husband, Di," Cassandra said with a hint of sadness. "I just cannot seem to get excited at the prospect of being married this Season, unless it is a love match, of course. And however much I wish for it, I feel certain that is not going to happen." She sighed and summoned a smile, not wishing to let down her friend by being gloomy. "But this time, I shall be happy to just enjoy the freedom and adventure of being anonymous, hidden behind my mask."

** *

"So, my dear chap, how has your day been so far?" Terrence asked Malcom when his cousin joined him in their favorite snug in the back of Wildman's Coffee House on Bedford Street. Malcom saw his cousin was already halfway through a cup of coffee.

"Awful. In fact, the whole week has been objectionable. Just a series of tedious business meetings, one after the other," Malcom grumbled, settling into his seat and summoning a waiter with a single glance. He paused briefly to take in the packed, low-ceilinged room, over which a thick pall of smoke hung like a storm cloud. The buzz of conversation and rustle of newspapers filled the air, as did the earthy yet pleasant smell of ground coffee. "I feel exhausted by London already. I wish I could just go home and forget this blasted ball tonight."

"No such luck old man," Terrence told him, taking out his cigarette case and offering Malcom a smoke. He shook his head, so Terrence went ahead and lit up, contributing to the fug overhead.

"There is little enough air in here as it is," Malcom complained, taking up his cup and blowing across the steaming black liquid to cool it before taking a few mouthfuls of the bitter brew. "I shall need a bucket of this stuff if I am to stay awake this evening," he added.

"Then you'd best make sure you do, else Madeleine will be after you, and you do not want that," Terrence said mildly, puffing on his cigarette. "How did your business meetings go, by the way? Everything shipshape with the Locksley coffers? Cash piling up nicely, is it?"

"I cannot complain," Malcom said with a shrug.

"But you will."

Malcom had to smile, briefly. "It is just that the weight of duty feels heavier on my shoulders with each passing year, Terrence. It is indeed a great honour to hold the title of a duke, but the continual effort required to manage all of one's responsibilities can be truly draining. In all honesty, I'd rather be—"

"Back in the country, at Lindenhall Manor, hidden away in your study in peace and solitude. I know," Terrence filled in.

"I know you are mocking me, but that is how I feel. London, well, as I say, it exhausts me. The incessant demands to meet people, to act in particular ways, to attend ridiculous social events and pretend one is enjoying oneself. "

"Oh, the sheer human suffering involved is immense, I know," his cousin said wryly.

"It is all right for you," Malcom replied, frowning. "You are a regular social butterfly. You love all the nonsense. I know it is hard for you to understand how just being here brings back such painful memories for me. I think I would rather go to war."

"I may mock you, Malcom, but with the best of intentions. And I think I do have some understanding of how you feel when you speak of painful memories. That is why I am still putting up with you when everybody else has abandoned you. Apart from Maddy, of course." Terrence stubbed out his cigarette and drank his remaining coffee before signaling for another to be brought.

"I know I am a trial, Terrence, and I am very grateful that you still tolerate me. You are a true friend despite your appalling sense of humor. I use the term humor loosely," Malcom told him, meaning every word. "Now," he added, keen to move the focus of the conversation from himself to his cousin. " How have things been with you since we last spoke?" He was amazed to see his cousin assume a dreamy expression.

"Oh, only something life-changing," Terrence said, smiling.

"Life-changing? In what way?" Malcom asked curiously, sipping his coffee.

"I thought you would never ask," Terrence replied, leaning his elbows on the table and looking animated. I was at Lady Corsham's ball the other night, and I happened to meet the most enchanting young lady."

"Oh?" Malcom said, a little skeptical since Terrence fell in love at least twice every Season.

"Yes, she is utterly charming. I feel I may have met my soulmate at last after a lifetime spent adrift in a sea of shallow flirtations," Terrence mused.

"What a lot of hogwash you do speak sometimes," Malcom scoffed. "Soulmate? I do not believe there is any such thing."

Terrence sat up, ready to defend himself. "Good Lord, man, your cynicism is quite chilling. How terrible it must be to live in your dark world, bereft of all joy and romance. I am glad to have a heart that seeks the happiness only love between a man and a woman can bring. Carry on like this, and I shall not invite you to the wedding. "

"Only na?ve fools dare indulge in such fantastical notions of fairytale bonds of love. Soulmate, pah!" Malcom scoffed.

"Well, I am proud to be such a fool, in that case." Terrence looked at him through narrowed eyes and smiled. "We shall see what occurs at the Collins ball tonight, shall we? Perchance you may meet a lady there who has the ability to melt that icebound heart of yours. Your future wife even. Then you might change your tune, cousin."

"The chances of that happening are slim to none," Malcom assured him confidently as his second coffee arrived.

"In that case, you won't mind having a little wager with me on the matter." Terrence said, a challenge in his eyes. "Fifty pounds says you meet your future wife tonight."

"You know I don't usually indulge in such childish behaviour," Malcom replied drily. "But on this occasion, I shall make an exception, for I am absolutely certain that I shall be proved right. That fifty pounds shall pay for a nice dinner for us."

***

A few hours later and the Collins masquerade ball was in full swing. Cassandra, still puffing beneath her mask from her last dance—an energetic country reel—snatched a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing footman. She sipped at it gratefully, the bubbles tickling her nose.

The bubbles are more exciting than any of my dance partners tonight, she reflected with a strange sense of disappointment. She wished she could share in Diana's optimism when it came to finding a suitable beau this Season. But so far, no gentleman at the ball—whomever he might be beneath his disguise—had possessed that magical charisma she dreamed of finding in a suitor. And none had professed more than a general liking for the musical arts.

As a new dance began, she wound her way through the heaving throng, towards the refreshment table at the fringes of the ballroom, trying to spot Diana. The hour was close when they had agreed to meet if they were separated, to go and view Lady Madeleine's reputedly spectacular garden. But she could see no mermaid among the lingering ladies. Guessing her friend was on the dance floor and would be for some time, and finding the stuffy, hot room stifling, she headed for one of the open sets of French doors lining one wall of the ballroom.

She stepped through onto a wide terrace with stone balustrades, where quite a few people were already taking the air. Leaning on the balustrades, she looked out over the garden as far as she could see, taking deep, refreshing breaths.

"Oh, how beautiful it is!" she breathed, spellbound by the almost maze-like tangle of winding pathways and shrubbery that lined a grand torch-lit avenue. It stretched away to a large fountain in the distance. Everything was subtly lit by a rainbow of coloured, concealed lamps, giving the whole a magical air to Cassandra's eyes. Spellbound by the sight, she had an idea.

While I am waiting, why should I not take the opportunity to do a little exploring by myself? Finding no objection in her own mind, she placed her glass carefully down on the balustrade and headed for the main steps leading down to the garden.

The first thing she did on stepping down was to pull off her mask. It had grown increasingly hot to wear and was tickling her face. She slid it along her wrist, where it hung safely from its ribbon. The fresh air was like nectar, and she breathed it in, suddenly catching the scent of roses in the air. Great yew hedges, neatly trimmed, made high green walls on either side of the grand avenue. They were punctuated by shadowy archways, each leading off to other parts of the garden. Cassandra was captivated.

Following her nose, she took the left-hand archway and was delighted to find herself in an extensive rose garden. Smiling to herself, she walked amid the softly illuminated, carefully tended displays of blooms, delicately running her fingertips across their silken petals now and then. The temptation to feel the grass beneath her bare feet suddenly overcame her. Propriety made her look around to see if anyone was watching, but there was no one. So, she slipped off her satin dancing pumps and stockings and sank her tired feet into the soft turf beneath with a grateful sigh of relief.

Feeling a glorious sense of freedom, she balled up her stockings inside her slippers and dangled them in one hand, along with her mask, as she continued to wander carefree through the various garden rooms. She was not worried about getting lost, for in the quietude of the night, she simply followed the plashing sound of the water from the fountain. Its melody drew her like a siren song.

After several long minutes, she came to the end of the grand avenue, which gave way to the grand centrepiece, the brightly lit, ornately carved marble fountain. In the Italian style, it featured three comely, half-naked stone nymphs pouring an endless stream of foaming water from their large pots into a stone pool about thirty feet wide, assisted by a cluster of fat-cheeked cherubim. The sculpture presided majestically from the centre of a large, paved area scattered with stone benches and classical statues. Cassandra stood entranced, breathing in the lavender scented air. Then, unable to resist temptation, she hitched up her skirts and broke into an impulsive run towards it, heedless of her bare feet on the stone beneath.