Masked Ball at Broxley Manor (3 page)

That didn’t stop me from feeling so horribly nervous that I wanted to be sick as I went downstairs. Music was spilling out of the ballroom and couples were already dancing to a lively two-step. At the ballroom doorway I stopped short, alarmed. Great spiderwebs were strung from one chandelier to the next. Skeletons and ghosts and hanged men dangled from the ceiling. A strange cauldron bubbled in one corner. Smoke curled across the floor. The whole room was bathed in red light so that the masks on the dancers glowed in an unearthly fashion. It was a strange sight to watch witches and vampires and other creatures dancing and chatting happily and I hesitated at the door, scared to go in.

When Frankenstein’s monster lumbered up to me and grabbed my hand I had to stifle a scream. But he said in a perfectly ordinary voice, “Don’t worry. I’m your host Lord Merriman and I was instructed by my wife to look out for you. Care for a spin around the dance floor?”

And so I started to fox-trot with a monster who chatted to me pleasantly about how my season had gone, whether I’d done much shooting yet this year, while I couldn’t take my eyes off the bolt sticking out of his neck. Such a bizarre feeling. At the end of the dance Lord Merriman escorted me to a seat and had a footman bring a jug of punch to my table. New guests arrived in a noisy group and he went off to greet them, leaving me sitting alone. The ball went on and the ballroom filled with couples. Before this I had only been to debutants’ balls, which were severely chaperoned. I had never seen people behaving with such familiarity in public. There were hands on derrieres, couples dancing so closely together that there was no space between them and even couples slinking off together, heading for the stairs, presumably to find a bedroom. And they all seemed to know one another, even though they were masked. I wondered which one was the Prince of Wales and whether he and Mrs. Simpson were dancing together.

I sat observing from my seat in the shadows, feeling in one way like a wallflower, but in another relieved that I didn’t have to fight off wandering hands or improper suggestions. Then a Paul Jones was suggested and I was dragged from the safety of my chair to join. For those of you who have no idea what a Paul Jones is, it’s only a method of selecting random partners to dance with. The ladies formed an inner circle, the men an outer. The music started and the men circled to the right, ladies to the left, until the music stopped. I found myself opposite a large troll.

“Jolly party, what?” he said as we stomped off to a quickstep. “The Merrimans certainly know how to go overboard. Of course she’s not British. Doesn’t quite know what’s proper, what?”

Unfortunately he danced like a troll and trod on my toes about every other step. I was glad when the music summoned us back to our circles again. Off we went until the music stopped and I found myself facing a vampire.

“Ah. A young maiden. How delightful. What a lovely white neck,” he said as he drew me to him. I suppose part of me resisted, and, I realized later, the punch I had thought to be harmless was already beginning to take effect. As he pulled at me I staggered backward and bumped into somebody.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I tried to move but for some reason I could not step forward. I heard a woman’s voice behind me saying, “What are you doing? Let go.”

I tried to turn around and saw that one of my wings had hooked itself onto a frill at the back of a green sprite’s costume. As I tried to extricate myself the frill started to unravel to my horror. I was frozen in utter confusion and mortification. I could not reach behind myself to free my wing and I couldn’t turn without unraveling more of the woman’s costume.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” the woman sounded really angry now. “You’re wrecking my costume. You’ll have me naked in a minute.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad, sweetie. In fact I’d rather enjoy it,” said her partner.

Suddenly help arrived. “Here, let me,” said a deep voice. In a second my wing came free and I catapulted into rescuing arms.

“Thank you,” I gasped. “That was so embarrassing. I’m sorry,” I looked back at the water sprite, who was now smoothing out her damaged dignity. Then I turned to my rescuer. It was the devil himself.

He was tall and slim. That was really all I could see of him. He wore a tight-fitting black outfit and a long black cape lined with red. His hair was hidden by a black cap that sprouted neat little red horns, and his eyes were behind a slim red mask. He was smiling at me revealing a strong jaw and a mouth of perfect teeth. He looked quite dashing and very scary.

“We meet at last,” he said in a low voice.

“It was kind of you to come to my rescue,” I stammered.

“We inhabitants of the nether regions have to stick together,” he said. “I take it you are a fallen angel? But you really have to learn to control those wings or you’ll be hopeless at flying.”

The music changed to a slow waltz. “Shall we?” he asked.

His hand that slid onto my bare back was firm and strong and elicited an unexpected shiver as he drew me close to him.

“I’m not supposed to know who you are, but I do,” he said. He spoke with a refined English accent, but so properly that I sensed he was working hard at it.

“I think I know who you are too, sir,” I said.

He laughed then. He had a wonderful laugh, rich, genuine. “Do you? I wonder.”

We danced. He glided me effortlessly across the floor. I felt as if I were floating. I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. At the end of the dance he stayed at my side and escorted me to my seat. Then he pulled up a chair beside me. “Is this your first visit to the Merrimans’?” he asked.

“It is. I don’t know them at all,” I said.

“Neither do I.” He laughed again. “In fact I’ll let you into a secret if you promise not to tell. I’m a complete gate-crasher.”

I laughed now. “No you are not.”

“Oh, but I am,” he said. “I make a practice of it. How else would I dine and wine well?”

“You’re making fun of me,” I said.

“I assure you I’m not,” he said. “During this time of depression it makes so much sense to eat someone else’s food and drink someone else’s wine, don’t you think? Especially when the ‘someone else’ is as rich as the Merrimans.”

A hag with long white hair and a white mask came up to us. “So you’ve got together. Splendid,” said Lady Merriman’s voice. “I’m going to have them send over some champagne for you.”

“That would be most appropriate,” my companion said. I saw dark eyes flash beneath that mask as he looked back at me.

Champagne arrived in a silver bucket and was opened with a satisfying pop. Two glasses were poured and my companion held up his glass to me. “To the future. May it be everything you dream of,” he said and our glasses clinked together. As I took a sip my heart was beating very fast. He was tall and from what I could see he was handsome. He had a lovely voice and a terrific smile and a wonderful sense of humor. He seemed to be considerate. Oh, and he was a prince. What more could I want in a man?

The music began again and he held out his hand to me. He held me very tight as we danced and I could feel his heart beating against my chest. During the balls of my season I had danced with a variety of chaps, but mostly they had been clodhopping and awkward, stepping on my toes and trying to make stilted conversation about hunting and shooting—the only subjects they knew. With this man there was nothing awkward at all. It felt as if we belonged together. I had never been close to a man before, conscious of his body against mine, the warmth of his breath on my cheek, two hearts beating as one. It was heady and exciting and I couldn’t believe it was happening to me.

“So what will you do now that your season is over?” he asked me.

“I have no idea,” I said. “I’ll have to go back to Scotland with the family when they close up the London house, I suppose. I wish there was something I could do. I’d love a job, but I have no qualifications and no skills except to walk around with a book on my head and know where to seat a bishop at the dinner table.”

He laughed. “Do you know a lot of bishops then?”

“None.”

“Then I agree it’s not the most useful skill in the world. But never mind. You’ll marry a prince or a duke or a count and live happily ever after, I expect.”

“I’m not sure that I’m ready to get married yet,” I heard myself saying. “Nineteen is so awfully young, isn’t it? And I haven’t seen anything of life. How can I make the right choice? I know debs are supposed to find their future husbands during this year, but it seems rather frightening to make a decision about spending the rest of one’s life with someone one hardly knows.”

“I agree,” he said. “But aren’t young ladies in your position supposed to make a good match, with no regard for your personal feelings about the chap?”

“I’m not about to inherit any kingdom,” I said. “I’m only thirty-fourth in line to the throne so how can I be of any importance in international affairs?”

“Any link to the House of Windsor is valuable these days. You won the war, remember.” I noticed that he said
you
.

“Anyway, I plan to marry for love,” I said. “I don’t want to spend my life being miserable.”

“Quite right,” he said.

“But if I happened to fall in love with the family’s choice for me, that would be marvelous,” I added.

“Then let us drink a toast to that.” He raised his glass again and his eyes met mine.

The champagne tickled all the way through my body. I wasn’t used to drinking and I’d already had several glasses of that lethal punch. When my partner took my hand again and drew me up to dance I felt the room swing around and I had a strange feeling that my feet weren’t touching the floor.

“Shouldn’t you offer to dance with some of the other ladies?” I asked as his hand came around my waist again. “I wouldn’t want to monopolize you all evening.”

“Haven’t you noticed?” he whispered. “We are the only couple under forty. I heartily dislike dancing with older women. Too bony and bitchy.”

I laughed then. He smiled too. “That’s more like it. You looked like a scared rabbit when I first spotted you. You belong here. You have a better pedigree than all but one. They should be honored by your presence.”

“I don’t feel that way,” I said. “I see them as rich, confident, sophisticated and me as a girl just out from school with no experience of the world.”

“Then we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?” he whispered in my ear and drew me close to him. “So tell me—have you even been kissed?”

“Sort of,” I said. “A few chaps tried it at the various balls but I don’t think they were very good at it.”

I hadn’t noticed that he had steered us toward an alcove dotted with huge potted palm trees. He pulled me to him. “Let me show you what you’ve been missing.” And then he kissed me. Gently at first, his lips teasing mine, and then more hungrily as he felt me responding to him. I had never known that a kiss could feel like this. I had never known what desire felt like, but I was feeling it now, and as I yielded to his kiss, the thought flooded through my mind that I might be spending the rest of my life with this man. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

At last we broke apart breathlessly. I noticed he was breathing as hard as I was. “I don’t think we better take it any further tonight,” he said as he gazed down into my eyes, “or I might not be responsible for my actions. I must say I’m glad you chose such a simple little mask, otherwise kissing would have been impossible, or I would have been forced to remove the mask—which is not allowed until midnight.”

I realized that midnight was not far away and felt a thrill of excitement about looking at his face for the first time. I hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed when he saw me unmasked. As I glanced across the room to the ornate gold clock on a sideboard I saw something I couldn’t quite believe.

“That man just put something in your drink,” I said indignantly.

He stiffened and I felt his hand tense on my shoulder. “Are you sure? What man?”

“See, that one. Sort of white and formless, like a ghost. But I’d swear I saw a hand come out from under all that flowing fabric and it tipped something into your drink.”

He dragged me rapidly back to the table, picked up his glass and sniffed at it.

“They don’t play around, do they?” he said. “Cyanide, if I’m not mistaken.” He picked up my glass. “They obviously wanted to finish you off too. There’s some in yours.”

“But who would want to do that?” I asked.

He shrugged. “There are plenty of anarchists’ groups who are sworn to do away with royalty, and of course Russia is reaching out communist tentacles, hoping to topple all Western governments.”

“That’s horrible.”

“But a fact, nonetheless.” He picked up both glasses. “Now do what I say. Stay put and do not move. And don’t eat or drink anything unless you’re sure it’s safe. Understand?”

“Where are you going?”

“To find the bastard who did this.”

“Don’t go.” I touched his arm. “Tell Lord Merriman. They have policemen around the house.”

“That will be too late,” he said. “Stay with the crowd. You’re safer here.”

I watched as he forced his way through dancing couples and out of one of the French doors. Just as he exited a deep bell started tolling. Then the sweet chimes of the ormolu clock were added to it.

“Midnight, everybody,” Lady Merriman’s voice called. “Come on through to the gold salon for the grand unveiling of masks, and then we’ll all go in to supper. Come on, come on. No lagging.”

She drove us out of the ballroom like a diminutive sheepdog, through to a lovely white-and-gilt room where we took our seats in a circle of chairs. I looked around the circle but didn’t see the wraithlike figure who had tried to kill us. I kept glancing across at the French doors, wondering whether my dancing partner had found the man and when he’d be back.

“You probably all know by now who we are so we’ll go first,” Lady Merriman said. “Come on, Podge, take your mask off.”

“About time.” Lord Merriman wrestled with his monster head. “I was just about suffocating under this thing. Somebody help me off with it.”

One of the footmen rushed forward to help him and soon a distinguished gray-haired head appeared, his face a little flushed. Lady Merriman had taken off her mask and fluffed out her hair. “There, that’s better, isn’t it? Who is going to go next? Order of precedence, Your Royal Highness? “