Page 20 of Blueprints, Battlelines and Ballrooms
‘I am.Please, call me Florence.’She stuck out her hand, then pulled it back.‘Heavens, do ladies shake hands in London?My mother has so many books on etiquette, and I’ve read none of them.I never thought it would be so complicated.But this city is a puzzle in a puzzle in a package to me.’
Elise pressed the back of her hand over her mouth.Her eyes creased at the edges, and with the smallest glance at Johannes’s sister, the pair of them burst into companionable laughter.
‘You are in good company, Mrs Murray.We aren’t so skilled at society either.’
When they laughed again, Florence couldn’t help but join in.They were infectious young people, both bright and fresh as rosebuds.But then she was too, wasn’t she?She’d never really had young friends before, not since school.As George’s wife, the wives of his friends had become hers, and all of them had been older.Her visits with her mother’s acquaintances were sometimes dotted with daughters who accompanied them, but they were usually married, their children toddling about or in prams.
Johannes returned and passed her a thin glass of golden bubbles.She took a small sip.‘It tastes like fizzy butter,’ she said.‘It’s delicious.’
‘You aren’t from London?’Rosanna asked.
‘Sydney.We arrived shortly after Christmas.Before that, we lived in Melbourne.’
‘Melbourne?’Elise framed the city as a question.‘Do you know the McIntyre family?’
‘McIntyre cordials?Everyone knows them!’Florence’s tongue tingled with another hurried sip of champagne.A familiar topic at last.‘Best mixes for the table.’
‘But do youknowthem?’A tension rippled the air.Elise took a step closer.Her voice lowered but stayed dark and urgent.‘Do you know the family?I’ve been trying to find Sinclair.He’s their youngest son.’
‘I was only a girl when we left Melbourne for Sydney.Perhaps we crossed paths, but I don’t remember more than Mama buying their tonics.I can ask my parents.How do you know of them?’
‘I…’ Elise blinked back tears.‘Please excuse me.I have spoken of things I shouldn’t have.It was lovely to meet you, Mrs Murray.’
And she pushed her way through the crowd, hastening away.Rosanna sent her brother a worried frown, then followed.
Florence gulped the last of her champagne.‘I told you I am no good at small talk.Why did you leave me?’
He shook his head.‘That isn’t your fault.It’s a long story, and a sad one for Elise.Her sister brought scandal to the family, not just once, but twice.Their reputation has never recovered, and Elise bears the brunt of it.But beneath all of that, I think she just misses her sister.They were close.’He threw back the last of his champagne, then placed both their glasses on a table.‘Enough sad stories.I promised you an architectural wonder.What do you think?’
Florence’s eyes darted about the throng of people.Poised and elegant, their clothes a patchwork of luxury and wealth, they all shrank against the vaulted ceiling beneath the large dome.She took a few steps through the crowd, tracing the inlay of parquetry beneath her feet.Compact alcoves lit by overhead lamps glimmered with different types of artwork: a statue, an oil painting, a large vase.Small groups gathered before each piece, talking or gesticulating.Large arched windows, at least twice her height, spilled the sparkling light of the chandeliers onto the balcony and into the faint, dark green depths of the gardens.And at the centre of the room a grand piano rose.Against it leant a woman so beautiful that if it weren’t for the warmth of her smile or the sophisticated precision of her movements, she could have been a piece of art in the alcoves.Her necklaces and bracelets caught the light, rippling with her laughter when the man beside her said something amusing.Even the coquettish lift of her chin was perfect.
Johannes sidled up to her.‘You’ve spotted our host, Miss Delaney.What do you make of her house?’
‘It’s beautiful.Truly beautiful, but it’s not made for living, is it?It’s not made to be a home.’
‘I agree with you.For a change,’ he added, laughing.‘Miss Delaney hosts parties and displays her artworks, but I couldn’t imagine a family in here.The house is a performance, and she is always on stage.I like to believe that she has a room that is perpetually untidy.That she picks her teeth with a fish bone and is a complete mess in there.’
‘I can’t imagine her being a mess anywhere.’Miss Delaney was not elegant like a lady or a drawn model in a fashion catalogue.She oozed perfection, every single inch of her, from her hair to her dress to her jewellery, all of her as perfectly composed as a song.‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more stunning person in real life.Or even in a painting.’
‘She’s a shameless attention seeker.She’d do anything for five minutes with a man wearing a crown.’
Florence startled.Almost as tall as Johannes, the man beside them spoke with an accent tinged with the continent, but for all the accents she’d overheard in port cities, she couldn’t quite place him.Like Odette, he seemed carved from stone, but where she was softness and grace, his eyes were dark as slate and his jaw set hard.
‘Cassius!’Miss Delaney called.‘Come play the piano for me.’
The man grunted and crossed his arms over his chest.‘I am a conductor.Not a pianist.’
‘You were once.Please, darling.’Miss Delaney’s words dropped to a purr.‘There is no one who strokes the keys like you.’
He grumbled again, and with a huff, angled his way through the crowd.As he approached, Miss Delaney clapped her hands in apparent delight.She dismissed the group she had been speaking to with a wave, and they obediently merged into the crowd.
‘It’s like she’s a princess,’ Florence said with a laugh.‘Everyone fawning about to do as she wishes.’
‘She could be.Mr Cassius Zadora is not exaggerating.She has caught the eye of princes, dukes, and kings.But no matter what the press says, there’s never anything to substantiate the rumours beyond chatter.And at the end of the Season and all of the speculation, she remains Miss Delaney.’
Cassius flipped his tails as he lowered himself onto the piano seat.A look passed between him and Odette, white-hot as lightening, then snuffed out.He laid his hands on the keys and, without breaking eye contact with Odette, began to play.
Johannes leant into Florence, still looking ahead, and rested a hand on her waist.‘Would you like to take some air?’he asked, his voice deep and little more than a whisper.‘We will still be able to hear the music from the balcony.’
