Part Two

The afternoon passed much slower and ever so much more painfully than I had ever imagined as I awaited the carriage which was scheduled to escort me to the house of my dear friend, Miss Lianne, for a ball in celebration of her birthday. As I sat in the sitting room of my own home, he did not speak a word to me all afternoon. Far too afraid to attempt conversation, I took to finishing the hem on the dress I had been altering specially for the evening’s occasion. It was as if the literature of my own library had written words against me there before his eyes, for, he simply remained, alone, in the window seat, absorbed in a rather thick, leather bound volume of my favourite tales. Occasionally, he would raise his eyes to gaze out of the window across the beautiful gardens beyond, but his gaze never wandered the room to meet my own. His lack of attentions tugged violently on my heartstrings and the bitter tears of disappointment stung my eyes as I fought to hold them behind the barriers of my eyelids.

It seemed like an age before the welcoming chime of the grandfather clock announced the fifth hour, and I was required to leave the room in order to prepare myself for the evening’s ball. He barely looked up from his novel as I gathered the dress I’d been working on and excused myself politely from his presence. I left quickly as not to allow time for the darts of despair to penetrate my already aching heart, and climbed the stairs to my bed chamber, choking on the tears which never fell from my stubborn eyes.

The gentle melody of the chambermaid’s pleasant humming soothed my mind as she helped to lace me tightly into the corset of my lilac ball gown. I let her soft buzzing encircle and calm me, leaving my head temporarily blank. All agonizing thoughts of him were lost in the peaceful moments as I stood before the mirror while the maid combed and pinned my hair loosely, but yet still to perfection, behind my ears. Unfortunately, time did not appear to be in my favour and I was dressed and made up all too quickly. When I heard the sound of hooves on the courtyard paving, I made my way downstairs at the slowest rate I could manage, occasionally stopping and pretending to straighten the portraits which hung along the landing walls. I did anything possible to prolong the time when I would be once more in his presence. It was simply too painful for my tender heart to bear. The man who once loved me, now barely acknowledged my existence.

A shiver ran through my entire body as he helped me into the carriage out of courtesy. The soft, warm touch I remembered had now transformed into icy cold. For the second our skin was in contact it was agony. I smiled and thanked him pleasantly for his assistance as we sat in the cool dark interior of the carriage. He nodded without a word before he drew back the curtain over the window and took to gazing out into the distance. The rocking of the carriage as we began our journey was most unpleasant and mixed with the nervous and uncomfortable feeling in my stomach; I began to feel quite nauseous. I had been awaiting this evening’s ball since the afternoon of my invitation some weeks ago, but now I was beginning to wish the day had never come.

~*~

The ballroom was twice the size of the one my own home could hold, but yet was still rather small in comparison to some I had had the privilege of entering. I would have welcomed the modest size as when filled with a great party number, hiding places are easy to find. However, this evening only a limited number had been called to celebrate the birthday of Miss Lianne, and it was proving difficult to find a suitably hidden place to retreat to.

I took my seat at the far side of the ballroom, beside the crimson hangings which framed the windows so grandly, adding to the majesty of the room. Here I was as far away from the entrance and the corner allocated for dancing as was possible. Her I was as far as possible from him. Yet even here, I could not avoid catching sight of him. Every time I turned my head to look around the room, I found myself gazing at his handsome face as it glowed with delight at the splendour of the room. Even at this distance I could see the twinkle I had once admired, shining in his beautiful eyes.

I had hoped that once the music sprang to life, he would return to me and fulfil the promise which he had made to me., but as the first note sounded and my eyes roamed the room desperately seeking him, I watched as he headed towards the purple clad angel that was Miss Lianne herself. A birthday dance? Oh, how I hoped it was so, but as he took her hand, I saw the same sparkling in his eyes that he had shown me that glorious evening we had met by the flower garden. He smiled the same sincere smile that once delighted my heart as he her close to him. As I watched the two dancing gracefully, his eyes fell upon me, and the smile which once radiated warmth and comfort now scorches and mocks me. The eyes which once glistened with tenderness now pierce my very soul. The half-glance he shot me as he turned away tore my fragile heart from my chest, letting it crash to the stone floor and shatter into a thousand tiny shards. A single tear trickled down my cheek as he turned his back on me entirely leaving me, a fool, sitting at the side, out of sight, out of mind, forgotten by all, alone.

I had been sitting alone by the window for the first hour or so, lost in the deepest depths of despair, before anyone acknowledged my presence. I was woken from my trance by the gentle voice of Miss Caraline, a dear friend of Miss Lianne’s.
“Miss Adela?” I forced a small smile as I rose to greet her. Beside her stood the elder brother of Miss Lianne, Mr David, I believed his name to be. “Why do you not join the dancing, Miss Adela?” Miss Caraline asked as she took a seat beside me.
“I am afraid I am not one who takes pleasure in such a thing as dancing. I prefer to simply watch from a distance” Miss Caraline’s smile fell as I confessed to her.
“Oh, my dear Miss Adela! Dancing is, well, it is poetry in motion. You do delight in poetry?”
“There is a great divide between poetry and dancing. Poetry is written from the heart; it is passionate and flows with emotion. Dancing can be as cold as ice and as empty as space. It is simply a form of entertainment through which one’s true heart’s desire can never be expressed.”

“Do not think in such a manner! Come, you must dance, if only for a short while. I insist!” Miss Caraline leaped to her feet and attempted to take my hand to make me follow suit.
“I thank you, Miss Caraline, for your concern, but it seems that there are no gentlemen in this room who are not already enjoying the company of their partners” My eyes travelled to the spot where he was. He had not left the company of Miss Lianne all evening and already I could see that she was allowing herself to fall in love with him. She was all too unaware of how he had deceived me. I pitied her with all that was left of me.
“Nonsense, my dear!” Miss Caraline exclaimed and my focus was returned to our conversation. “Come, Mr David has danced with me all evening. I shall sit out of this next dance and you may have the chance to partake in this ‘form of entertainment’ as you call it. You do not mind, Sir?” She added to the young man. Mr David assured me politely that it was his pleasure to offer me the next dance. Courtesy forced me to accept his outstretched hand and allow him to lead me to the dancing area.