Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Juliette was watching the door of the ballroom intently. She wanted to be the first to glimpse Nicholas’ betrothed, and she had positioned herself close to one of the pillars, intending to step forward and introduce herself as soon as Nicholas and Lavinia entered the room. Around her, fashionably dressed men and women paraded arm in arm as the musicians tuned their instruments.

The ball was hosted by Lord and Lady Summerisle - Nicholas’ aunt and uncle - and was to be the moment of their nephew’s debut with his bride to be. Everyone was excited, but Juliette’s feelings were somewhat mixed. She knew she had no right to feel as she did. There was no formal agreement between her and Nicholas, but her expectation had been for a proposal - one that had spectacularly failed…

“It’ll be all right, Juliette. Don’t worry,” Emily said, appearing at Juliette’s side as she stood waiting for Nicholas and Lavinia to arrive.

Juliette turned to her friend and sighed.

“I know I’ve got no right to feel like this, Emily. I’m sure Nicholas is very happy, and I’m sure there’s nothing but commendable attributes to Lavinia, but I can’t help but feel… well, sad,” Juliette replied.

That was her overwhelming feeling; not anger or jealousy, but sadness. She was sad about the time she had wasted waiting for something that would never happen. Had she been honest with herself, Juliette would have realized that when the hoped-for letters failed to materialize. She felt foolish, and she knew her mother was only waiting to say, “I told you so.”

“I just feel… well, I feel as though I’ve wasted so much time, Emily. I’ve had… missed opportunities. And some fortunate escapes, too,” Juliette said, and Emily laughed.

“That’s certainly true… oh, but look, they’re coming in now,” she said, pointing towards the ballroom door.

The setting was a grand one - Lord and Lady Summerisle lived in one of the largest houses in Mayfair, and the ballroom was a vision in red marble and damask.

The doors were framed by plush red velvet curtains, held back by gold ties, and liveried footmen stood stiffly on either side as the guests were announced. Everyone was eager for a glimpse of the bride to be. She was an unknown in society, though the story of her sorry upbringing had quickly spread once the news of the betrothal had been received. And now, here she was.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Juliette said, for there was no question as to the truth of her words.

Lavinia was pretty. She was tall and elegant, with jet black hair and porcelain skin. She was a true beauty - there could be no denying it - and in a pearl-colored dress; she looked almost ready for the moment of marriage. Fans fluttered, whispers were exchanged, and a collective sigh of delight was expelled at the sight of a couple so obviously in love.

“Truly so,” Emily replied, and now they watched as the couple were greeted by Nicholas’ aunt and uncle.

Juliette and Emily were standing closest to them, and as Nicholas turned, he caught Juliette’s eye and smiled.

“Ah, Juliette, Emily - I must introduce you,” he said, and now Lavinia, too, turned and smiled.

Juliette and Emily stepped forward, and Nicholas introduced Juliette as a “childhood friend.” It was a sobering moment - the realization of who she was to him: a friend and nothing more.

“Nicholas has told me all about you. I’m so pleased to meet you at last,” Lavinia said, holding out her hand and smiling.

There was no look of triumph in her eyes, no haughtiness, just the smile of a woman in love - a woman nervous at meeting her husband-to-be’s friends, and seeking to make a good impression. Juliette could not be angry with her, and now she took Lavinia’s hand and smiled back at her.

“I’m so pleased to meet you, too. What a delightful couple you make. I’m so happy for you both,” she said, and Nicholas smiled.

“It’s very kind of you to say so - and I hope you’ll both be joining us for the wedding,” he said.

Juliette nodded, even as the thought of it made her feel somewhat ill - to see him with his bride-to-be was one thing, but to think of their exchanging vows was quite another. Till death do us part…

“We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we, Juliette?” Emily said, for Juliette did not reply, lost in the thought of what witnessing the marriage itself would mean for her own feelings.

“Oh… yes, certainly,” she said, and Lavinia placed her hand on Juliette’s arm, still smiling at her.

“You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear that,” she said, and Juliette nodded.

“Well… I’m sure the two of you are going to be very happy together. I can just tell,” she said.

Another couple now came to congratulate Nicholas and Lavinia on their engagement, and Juliette and Emily stepped back, watching as the pair now made their royal progress about the room.

“Don’t get upset, Juliette,” Emily whispered, and Juliette shook her head.

“No, I won’t… it’s just… well, it’s not easy,” she said, and Emily patted her arm.

“Let’s get some refreshments, shall we?” she said.

Juliette nodded, glancing again at the happy couple, and still longing for her to be the one on Nicholas’ arm…

***

“Why are we here again?” Alexander asked, as he and Gregory hurried up the steps to the door of the house where the ball was taking place.

“Because Lord and Lady Summerisle were friends of my parents. They think I’m somewhat… directionless. Lord Summerisle always wants to give me advice, and his wife is… maternal,” Gregory said.

Alexander smiled. Gregory was somewhat directionless, and had it not been for Alexander winning back the ring, his fortunes might have continued to spiral.

“And what sort of advice has he given you?” Alexander asked.

“That I should be married as soon as possible and settle down. That’s why they invited me this evening - because a ball is the natural place for such things to find their beginning,” Gregory said, and Alexander laughed.

“Then I wish you luck - or perhaps you’ll find yourself already matched, in which case, I wish you luck, too,” he said, knowing the sort of women who would be in attendance.

Gregory groaned, and now they were ushered inside, finding the dancing having already begun. The ballroom was full - elegantly dressed couples dancing with one another, while others stood watching from the sides.

Alexander looked around him for anyone he might know, and as he did so, his eyes alighted on a now familiar figure. For a moment, he paused, watching her across the ballroom - it was the woman from the orangery, the stranger he had spent the evening in conversation with, the one he had bumped into outside the modiste - it was extraordinary.

“I’ll get us some punch,” Gregory said, and Alexander nodded.

“Yes…” he said, distracted by the vision before him, and wanting only to speak to her.

He had cursed himself for not going back - for not being bold enough to follow her and renew their acquaintance on the street the previous day. But fate had brought their paths together again, and Alexander was not about to miss another opportunity to speak to her.

He did not know what it was that drew him to her, but their encounter in the orangery at Lady Rankin’s ball had left its mark, and Alexander had thought a great deal about the stranger over the past year or so, thinking back to the conversation they had enjoyed, and wishing he had pursued the encounter further…

“Are you all right?” Gregory said, as he returned with two glasses of punch, and Alexander nodded.

“Yes… but look who it is - the woman I… well, I’m going to speak to her,” he said, and throwing caution to the wind, Alexander now approached the woman, who was standing along by one of the pillars, watching the dancing.