Chapter Eleven
Portia sighed and flexed her shoulders. “Lord I’m tired. And the ball hasn’t even begun.”
Charlotte yawned. “I agree. All this running around for last minute details is driving me quite insane. I sincerely hope Lady Alwynne is happy with the way things are now because I’ll be damned if I walk back up there just to tweak a place setting or adjust a vase here and there.”
“And we’re supposed to attend the ball.” Portia pursed her lips. “Do I have to go, Charlotte? I really have no interest at all in being there and watching the elite consume and destroy everything we’ve worked so hard to create.”
“That’s a rather jaded thing to say, Portia. Especially for one so young.” Burke came into the room in time to catch her words.
She glanced at him. “I’m right, and you know it. They will feast, fawn over the military attendees, then forget their names in a hurry to get to the card table or some secluded corner where they can begin a seduction for the night.” She shrugged. “’Tis the way of their world, I know. But that doesn’t mean I have to admire it. I’ll be stuck with the staff and probably end up waiting on guests. And I’m tired…”
“You are both right, of course.” Burke diplomatically agreed. “However, Charlotte and I do have to attend. There’s no question about that.” He looked at his fiancée with affection. “But what about Portia, my love? Does she have to go?”
Charlotte wrinkled her brow. “Well, one would expect her to be in attendance because of all the work she put into the decorations. Although she’s right…she would have to stay below stairs of course. Perhaps a peek at the rooms before the dancing starts, but that would be all that she’d be permitted.” She shrugged. “Truthfully, James, I see no really strong reason for her to be there if she doesn’t want to.”
“I don’t want to.” Portia stood her ground, her voice firm. “I’m sure it will be a terrific success but I cannot take much joy from my contribution. There are too many memories there. Bad ones.”
“Well in that case, I shall tender your apologies to Lady Alwynne, should she ask. Which she probably will not, given her position as hostess of the entire event and Mistress of Harbury Hall.”
“Really?” Portia’s face lit up. “I really don’t have to go?”
Burke smiled at her joy. “You are the most contrary girl. I can’t think of another your age who would be so happy not to attend a ball.”
“I doubt many other girls have seen…well, things.” She gulped. “Never mind all that. I’m just very happy to be spared this entire thing. Always hated dressing up for fancy affairs anyway.”
“Oh, goodness…dressing.” Charlotte jumped. “I must do that. Portia, be a dear and help me?”
“Of course.” She grinned. “Buttoning and tying on someone else, I can do.”
“I’ll be in the study.” Burke took a step backward. “In case anyone is looking for me.”
“Nobody will, dear. You can relax. You look very nice.” Charlotte patted his arm on the way past. Portia just smiled as they whisked from the room.
Burke heaved a breath and did indeed retire to his study, only to emerge a few moments later with three pieces of paper in his hand. “Devon?” He called down the hall.
“Here.” The young man popped his head out of his room. “Trying to fix this damnable cravat.”
“Let me help.” Burke hid his grin as Devon emerged, brows furrowed and lips set in a stubborn line.
“Idiotic device.” With clumsy fingers Devon tried to poke the offending neckwear into some semblance of style.
“Well, actually you don’t need to be overly concerned, since Portia has decided not to attend this evening. I assumed you would prefer to stay here, although you are welcome to join Charlotte and myself if you’d rather.”
Devon blinked. “Are you jesting?”
Burke shook his head. “No.”
“I don’t have to go to this damned ball?”
Burke snorted. “There’s a decided lack of enthusiasm for elegant events in this household this evening.”
“No, James. Really. I don’t have to go? Portia doesn’t want to go?”
“Yes to both, lad. You’ve the night off.”
Devon closed his eyes. “God be praised.” Then he opened them again. “But you and Charlotte are going, yes? That means I’ll have to take Portia back to Charlotte’s. You know we can’t stay here alone.”
Burke thought for a moment. “Well, about that.” He lifted his hand and waved the papers in the air. “Let me show you something.”
*~~*~~*
“There. That’s the last button.” Portia stepped back. “And oh my goodness, you look incredible, Charlotte.”
The older woman stepped to the tall glass and nodded in satisfaction. “I had no idea if it would still fit. The skirt is a little wider than fashionable, but I think it will do. Nobody will notice me anyway.”
“I doubt that, but I know the Inspector will be glued to your side all night.” She giggled. “Or other places.”
“Portia.” Charlotte tried to sound shocked. “Bad girl.” Then she grinned. “But I hope you’re right.”
“I love that shade of green on you.” Portia arranged the silk skirts and shook out the ruffle at the hem. “It makes your eyes look so bright and with the thing in your hair…”
Charlotte chuckled. “It’s called an aigrette, dear. A bit old fashioned but I’ve always adored it.” She reached up and touched the sparkling spray of green and white gems. “It was given to me on my travels by a very affectionate gentleman.”
“Goodness.” Portia blinked. “He must have liked you quite a bit. I could believe those are real jewels.”
“They are.” She smiled. “And he did.”
Portia seemed a bit at a loss for words, so Charlotte took pity on her. “All in the past dear. But it reminds me. With James and myself at Harbury, you should not be alone, either here or in Applewood Cottage. And of course, staying with Devon would be completely inappropriate.”
Portia’s eyebrows snapped together. “You know, I’m awfully tired of hearing that. I understand the way society works, believe me. But after everything we’ve been through—everything Devon’s been through—surely the absurdities of such nonsense could be ignored?”
“Sit down, young lady.” Charlotte assumed her best matriarchal voice. Portia sat. “Now listen. It is quite true that you have seen and done things that no girl your age should even know about. And it is true that you have more intelligence in your little finger than most of your peers could hope to amass in their entire lifetimes.”
“Thank you—but—”
“Hush. I haven’t finished.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“However, you are still living in this world and under its rules. In addition, since you have left your home without being completely honest about your whereabouts, both James and I find ourselves acting in lieu of your parents. Somebody has to, that’s a certainty.”
Portia gulped. “Am I that bad?”
“No, child, of course not.” Charlotte hugged her. “But you are undisciplined, too smart for your own good, and you can find trouble on a sunny day in the middle of an empty field.”
“And this means what, precisely?”
“That if we left you alone with Devon, there would be…um…consequences.” She felt her cheeks color with a blush.
“Oh good grief. You imagine we cannot keep our hands off each other?”
“Yes. To be blunt, yes. And that’s not a criticism, dear. It’s an acknowledgement that you are in love with each other, that you plan on marrying and you’re both a mess of raging passions.”
“I rather like the sound of that.” Portia looked interested.
“And that, dear girl, is the trouble.” Charlotte grinned. She turned to her large carpet bag where her dress for the ball had been carefully brought from Applewood Cottage. “Here.” She reached inside. “I brought this over for you. Burke and I have an idea for you this evening that will take care of the propriety issues, but you must be properly gowned.”
She removed a tissue wrapped confection and revealed a delicate silk gown in a shade that could best be described as moonlight.
“Oh, Charlotte.” Portia touched the fine stuff with reverence. “How lovely.”
“Isn’t it? Again, a gift from an admirer. Persian, I believe he was. Quite wrong for me, and not my size, but the thought was charming.”
Portia blinked. “Someday I would like to hear of your travels.”
“I’m sure you would.” Charlotte’s answer was noncommittal. “But for now, let’s get you into this. Time is marching on and Burke will be looking for me soon. Thankfully we’re not invited to dine, but even so, there will be a crowd I expect.”
“It’s still early.” Portia’s words were muffled as she slipped off her day dress and burrowed into the other gown.
“I know.” Charlotte helped her tug the fabric down over her chemise and spun her around to button up the back. “Yes, this does fit you. I hoped it would.”
She was done quite rapidly, given the number of buttons, and then smoothed the girl’s short hair to back of her head. “Now look.”
“Oh…” Portia stood in front of the glass and stared. “I don’t look like me at all.”
“Yes you do. Just a bit more grown up.”
The pale lace covered her to the neck, but couldn’t hide the lovely sleek curves or the small waist. She was going to be a very beautiful woman, but tonight she was still a pretty girl.
Which was exactly how it should be.
“Perfect.” Charlotte clipped a creamy silk rose to the side of Portia’s head. “Now you’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” Portia looked puzzled and glanced outside where lights were bright at Harbury as the sun began to set. “Oh, oh Charlotte, look. An airship has arrived.”
They both moved close to the glass, the better to view the giant flying machine as it hovered just above the lawns fronting Harbury Hall. It was close to half a mile away and mostly concealed by trees, but even so the women could see the skin shining in an almost golden light, dominating the landscape and making them gasp in amazement.
“Oh, my.”
“Yes indeed.”
There was a tap on the door and Burke’s voice broke the spell. “Have you two finished fussing in there?”
Recalled to the moment, Charlotte hurried across the room to let Burke inside. “We’re not fussing. We are watching that astounding airship. It’s huge.”
“There’s a second one on the South Lawn.”
“Really?” Portia hurried to his side. “Can we see it from here?”
He looked at her then at Charlotte. “Perfect.”
“I thought so. Are we ready?”
“Any minute now…” Burke pulled out a pocket watch and as he did a knock sounded on the front door. He smiled. “Now we’re ready.”
“Good. I’ll go and answer that. You tell Portia about the airship. We’ll see it up close in a little while. She won’t.”
James nodded. “See you in a minute or two.”
She hurried out through the small hall and to the door. Opening it, she smiled at the man who stood there, looking a little bit hesitant.
“Hello, I’m Charlotte Howell. You must be Fleet Commander Moreton?”
He nodded and took her hand, dropping a light kiss on it. “Please, call me Del.”
*~~*~~*
The massive beast hovering in front of Harbury Hall occasioned much comment, both from the servants hired to augment the permanent staff, and from the guests and residents themselves.
Lady Alwynne stood at the large windows in the center of the upper hallway and even she caught her breath at the sheer expanse of airship, stretching almost from one side of the Hall to the other.
“Well, Madam. I trust your plans are well laid?”
Alwynne took a breath. She knew this was inevitable. “They are indeed. You have been kept informed.”
“Yes. I will attend, of course. But I shall not shock the guests.”
She turned and glanced at the monster who was her husband. For this one night he had gone above and beyond the decorum of host. Although his breeches were perfectly cut from cream linen, his jacket was of cloth of gold, a brilliant hue that was echoed by the strange metallic mask covering most of his damaged face.
His revealed eye lent a gruesome touch, since the eyeball itself was beginning to discolor. Thankfully the other one, which had completely fallen apart, was hidden beneath a glass lens. There were various decorative ornamentations, and even a small tube or two. He looked much like a simulated mechanical man, pictures of which she’d seen in the newspapers some time ago.
She would have to accept it, and took comfort from the small pin he wore over his heart. Assuming he had one, of course. “I appreciate it.”
Randall didn’t seem to have heard her. He stared from the window, just as she had moments before, mesmerized by the flying machine filling the view. “Astounding achievement.”
“Indeed.”
“I wonder…” he paused, then turned to her. “The crew is here, in the house?”
She paused for a moment. “Some of them, yes. The officers of course. Other crews who were on leave are also here. There is still a small complement of airmen aboard, to keep an eye on things.” She glanced down to see yet another rope securely tethered to the posts the military had installed a few days before. “Not that it stands a chance of breaking loose and flying away.”
Randall ignored her comment. “I shall need to talk to them. I want to know all about their ships.”
Too used to his unpredictable distractions to ask why, Alwynne just nodded. “Have someone find out who they are. I’m sure they’ll be happy to spare you a few minutes.”
She turned away, eager to be gone from his presence. They both had developed a pretense that nothing untoward had happened. There were times it worked, but most of the time it was a struggle for Alwynne to maintain the façade. She thought she had prepared herself well enough to be able to hold a conversation with him, and not remember that night.
Well, she had held a conversation. But that night was still there, crystal clear in her memory and as sharp as the knife he’d used on her.
If all went according to plan, this would be the last conversation they’d ever have.
As she moved down the grand staircase to begin greeting her guests, she breathed a sigh of relief that he’d not accompanied her. Thank God this would be the last night she would ever have to worry about that sort of thing.
That thought put a smile on her face and she sailed down to the foyer, buoyed by the twin sparks of happiness and anticipation blooming within her.