Bertrice Small - Deceived

"Very well, then, Mistress Maybelle," the Earl of Bute said. "Hawkesworth, do you have a plan?"

"I do" came the solemn reply. "Oh, I most certainly do."

Charles Trahern was astounded to receive an invitation to the Duke and Duchess of Farminster's farewell ball. At first he thought it must be a mistake, that the duchess's social secretary had forgotten to strike his name from their list of welcome guests, but no retraction came. Then a few days later he received a note penned in Aurora's own hand saying although she was still quite piqued at his taking her to that awful club, she would forgive him, and was looking forward to seeing him at their ball. He was amazed.

Had they not heard the rumors about her? Come to think of it, no one had heard the rumors he had sought to have spread. All the gentlemen involved in that delightful night of debauchery, rather than bragging about it, were astonishingly silent on the matter. Of course, none of them had been that drunk, and when he reconsidered the whole affair, he realized that none of them were fooled. It had probably been put down to a wicked prank on Trahern's part. On one hand, he was relieved, and on the other, a bit disappointed. And now the Hawkesworths were leaving London. He knew it was not likely he would meet up with them again. So, he would go to their ball. It was to be a masked and costumed affair, and he did love such spectacles!

"I shall go as Romeo," he said aloud to himself, and then he sat down and wrote a note to Aurora accepting the invitation and telling her of his costume plans.

Aurora laughed when she read Trahern's missive. "Make certain you run into him at Boodles," she told her husband, "and be sure he doesn't change his plans. We have the perfect Juliet for him, my darling, don't we?"

The white and gold ballroom at Farminster House was turned out vigorously over the next few days. The paint and the gilt was touched up. The parquet floor was waxed until it shone brightly. Even the gilt ceiling moldings and the painted ceiling of the ballroom itself were inspected for damage and repaired where necessary. The crystal chandeliers were carefully lowered, and each individual arm, candle saucer, and teardrop washed and carefully polished, as were the matching crystal and silver sconces attached to the walls. Each of the lighting fixtures was neatly fitted with beeswax candles that would burn evenly and not smoke too greatly. The windows were cleaned both inside and out. The sky-blue satin draperies hanging from those windows were brushed free of cobwebs and dust, their heavy gold rope tiebacks replaced with new ones.

A dais was set up at one end of the room for the musicians. The musicians had been hired, and carefully instructed in their duties. The ball would be opened and closed with a minuet, but Aurora also wanted lively Scotch reels, the contredanse, the ecossaise, and other English country dances played as well. This would not be a dull and stuffy evening like so many balls. Her guests would have fun.

As for the invitations, they were hard to come by, as the ballroom at Farminster House could comfortably contain only about one hundred and fifty people. Since King George and Queen Charlotte had accepted their invitation, the Hawkesworths' farewell ball had become one of the last real social events of the season. There were many who felt to be left out was to lose social standing. Consequently, many of the lesser families departed London for their country houses in an effort to appear as if they had important business elsewhere and couldn't possibly attend another ball this season.

There was a rectangular room next to the ballroom known as the Buffet Room. It, too, was turned out, and an enormous mahogany table covered in Irish linen and lace was set up to contain the refreshments which would, of course, include an unlimited supply of French champagne. Small gilt chairs upholstered in rose and cream tapestry as well as chairs done in pale blue velvet were set all about the ballroom and the buffet. There would be a cloakroom, and two rooms set aside for a ladies' necessary and a gentlemen's necessary. Favors were chosen to give the guests. Small silver gilt snuffboxes for the gentlemen, and pomander balls tied with gilt ribbons for the ladies. A menu was chosen for the midnight buffet; the flatware, the candelabra, and serving pieces were polished; and all was in readiness. Fresh flowers would be brought in to be arranged and set about on the day of the Farminster ball.

Maybelle, whose last name it turned out was Monypenny, was brought discreetly to the house several times to be fitted for her costume. She was quite a pretty girl, mannerly, and quiet-spoken. She had already begun her lessons in deportment. She watched carefully as the seamstress fitted and pinned the costume, making one or two gentle suggestions to the woman, which were at first received with surprise, and then gratitude, for Maybelle obviously knew her way with a needle, and the seamstress said so approvingly.

The Juliet gown was of creamy velvet, fitted beneath the bosom, the sleeves long and coming to a point at the wrists, the narrow skirt falling in graceful folds about its wearer's feet, which would be shod in fiat satin slippers. The neckline of the gown was trimmed with dainty lilac-colored silk flowers, and there would be a gold brocade girdle about Maybelle's hips. Her dark blond hair would be confined in a golden caul, and her swansdown feather mask would be decorated in tiny pearls and diamante. When the final fitting was done, Maybelle looked every bit the lady she wanted to be.

The king and the queen would be coming as two of their royal ancestors, King Edward III and his queen, Phillipa of Hainault. Valerian and Aurora had decided on simpler costumes, that of a Roman general and his wife, a proper Roman matron. As they stood greeting their guests on the night of the ball, both the duke and the duchess were delighted by the variety of costumes that entered Farminster House, passing up the staircase to the receiving line. There was a Henry VIII and all of his six wives; a Richard, Coeur de Lion; Robin Hood and Maid Marian; Turkish sultans and sultanas; lords and ladies of bygone eras; a Louis XIV in his red high heels; several devils; two cardinals; seven medieval monks; pirates, Gypsies, and some ancient British warriors. Sir Roger Andrews came as a colonial frontiersman, Lord Shelley as a harlequin, the Earl of Bute, a Scots warrior.

Because the king rarely varied his bedtime hour, the handwritten invitations read "eight o'clock." The royal couple arrived at a quarter to nine, and the ball officially began with the Duke of Farminster partnering Queen Charlotte, and his wife, King George, in the stately figure of the minuet. As they danced, the king said, "Madam, I have lately heard a most unpleasant rumor, which I was relieved to learn was naught but that. Do you know of what I speak?"

"My husband has mentioned that Lord Trahern attempted to play a rather naughty jest upon me, but was stopped. Valerian would not go into detail, your majesty, for he said the jest was in such poor and dreadful taste that a decent woman should not hear of it. I was, of course, quite put out that our friendship should be repaid in so unkind a manner, but I have forgiven Trahern for my dear late sister's sake. She was always quite fond of him."

"A most charitable and Christian attitude, my dear lady," the king said approvingly. "And the duke was quite right not to divulge the full extent of Lord Trahern's perfidy. The slander was not one fit for a lady's ears. It was quite poor judgment on Trahern's part, and I shall personally admonish him myself, madam."

"I thank your majesty for his kindness and his friendship," Aurora replied sweetly, "but most of all, I am grateful that your majesty would reach out to protect my good name. It is a comfort to know I have two such fine knights such as yourself and my husband."

"Quite so, madam! Quite so!" the king said, bowing gracefully to her as the dance came to an end.

"Excellent," the duke told his wife when she had repeated her encounter with the king. "He heard, was assured it was false, did not believe anyway, and is suspicious of Trahern. Now Trahern's marriage cannot help but destroy him and his credibility in the eyes of polite society. I am very pleased by this turn of events."

The king and his wife departed exactly an hour after they had arrived, but the ball went on into the wee hours. More and more of the lively country dances were played. The champagne flowed more freely than at any other ball that season, it was noted by those who kept track of such things. The Duke of Farminster's hospitality could not be faulted in the slightest. The guests began to depart, warmly thanking their host and hostess for a most enjoyable evening. Finally only Sir Roger, Lord Shelley, and Trahern remained. The musicians had been paid, and were packing up their instruments.

"More champagne!" Trahern called to a passing footman, who obliged as he had been instructed. Charles Trahern was quite drunk and slightly confused. Not once had Aurora danced with him that evening, and he could not understand why after her conciliatory note to him. Each time he had approached her she had disappeared into the crowd, and several times she had insisted that rather than dance with him, he dance with a mysterious lady garbed as Juliet. The lady had simpered and giggled at him, and even permitted him to steal a kiss, but not once had she spoken to him. Now she appeared out of the shadows of the ballroom and plunked herself down in his lap.

"Hello, Charlie," she said to him, and provocatively wiggled her ample bottom against him.

He slid his hand boldly down her neckline, giving a rather big breast a good squeeze and tweaking the nipple. "You're nice," he mumbled, nuzzling her neck. "What's your name?"

"Why, Juliet, my Romeo," she answered him.

"Wanna fuck?" he said crudely.

Maybelle giggled. "You're bold! Have some more champagne, Charlie. Juliet's a virgin, and don't fuck without a wedding band."

Lord Trahern stood up, almost dumping the woman on his lap upon the floor. "Then le's get married," he slurred drunkenly. "I saw lots of monks here tonight. Any left who can marry us?"

The single footman filled Trahern's glass again, and he drank it down quickly, holding it out for another refill.

"The man's a fool," murmured Sir Roger. "Closing the trap on him's almost too easy. Ain't no sport in it at all."

"The fun comes when he realizes what he's done and that he can't get out of it," Lord Shelley said, laughing softly.

"Where's the priest!" Trahern half shouted. "Can't fuck Juliet till she has her marriage!"

"Why, Charles, you rogue," the duke said, coming forward with a cleric. "So you want to wed this pretty creature, do you?"

"Aye, your grace, I'll marry her, and then we get to fuck!" Lord Trahern said enthusiastically. "Where's your good lady. She can be Juliet's witness!"

"Here I am, Charles," Aurora said, coming forward.

"Wouldn't dance with me this evening," he muttered. "Why wouldn't you dance with me, Aurora?"

"Poor Charles," she said. "I'm sorry, but my duties as your hostess just overwhelmed me. I promise you two dances at the next ball we attend, all right?"

Trahern quaffed down his glass of champagne, saying, "Le's get married, Juliet!"

The ceremony was duly performed, and then Trahern signed the papers put before him by the duke, his hand guided by the clergyman, for it was shaking as his excesses of the evening began to overtake him. The Duke and Duchess of Farminster along with Lord Shelley and Sir Roger signed the marriage papers as witnesses. The minister was paid most generously, and departed with his bag of coins and two bottles of French champagne. While Aurora distracted Trahern, the duke took the new Lady Trahern aside.

"I had your husband sign two sets of the papers. If he should ever find yours, come to me for the duplicates," Valerian Hawkesworth told Maybelle.

"He ain't going to find 'em," she said firmly. "After he sobers up and sees 'em, I'll give 'em to the goldsmith to keep safe. My witnesses will speak up for me, won't they?"

"They will, your ladyship," the duke said, and he kissed May-belle's hand. To his surprise, she did not giggle or simper.

"Thank you for your friendship, your grace," she said quietly.

The three men loaded Trahern into the duke's coach, the duke giving his coachmen instructions to help her ladyship get her husband into his house, and his bed, before departing. The carriage rumbled off, and the three men reentered the house where Aurora was awaiting them with a celebratory glass of champagne.