Page 23 of Enchanted in Time
Content, she stepped to the side, her hand on her mother’s arm, and waited until the guests behind her had come before the king.
No sooner had all the guests introduced themselves to the royal family than the orchestra began to play and the first young man approached Mirabelle to ask her to dance. Having cast one last uncertain sidelong glance at her mother, who nodded and smiled, Mirabelle took the stranger’s hand and followedhim onto the dance floor. After just a few steps, her rusty feet felt loosened, and she glided gracefully through the hall at the young man’s side. She danced and danced, forgetting all her sorrows and cares, and not for one moment did she think of her blemished face but enjoyed the evening instead.
One young man after another would approach her, so that she had a different partner leading her for each piece of music. She took no breaks, had nothing to drink, nothing to eat—no, Mirabelle literally came alive and danced as if it were her salvation. How wonderful to be so adored!
Another dance came to an end, and Mirabelle’s partner bowed gallantly to her. As she fanned herself—though the air could barely move through her veil—another stranger approached to ask her to dance. But before he could make his request, he dutifully took a step to the side and bowed low to the prince, who was striding directly toward Mirabelle.
“May I have this dance, Mirabelle Madeleine Alice von Taustein?”
“With pleasure, Prince Gustav von Lichtenberg.”
Not once did Mirabelle think to look back at her mother, for if she had, she might have noticed her mother’s nervous look and perhaps held back a bit. Yet she didn’t give a single thought to her mother, her blemished appearance, her usual aloofness, or even her fate, and instead she laughed and danced with the prince as though she had not a care in the world.
Her grace and elegance surpassed that of the other young ladies, and her hair and voice were so charming and lovely that with the very first dance, the prince was already falling in love.
“Honored Mirabelle, I am delighted that you have come to our ball. I had already heard of your grace and beauty and am therefore all the more pleased to be able to say that none of the accounts do you justice.”
Mirabelle’s heart was beating a little faster. Even so, she ignored the first few anxious thoughts that attempted to steal into her mind on hearing his words, and she reveled in the prince’s admiration. He continued to whirl her around the glittering ballroom, and her midnight blue gown was swinging about along with her golden hair. The crowd moved aside, and the two of them danced in the middle of the hall, the focus of everyone’s attention.
“My dear Mirabelle, perhaps you’re aware that this is the ball at which I intend to choose a bride.”
She winced at his words. Was that a hint? He didn’t mean to choose her, did he? A lump began to form in her throat as she remembered the secret she was hiding under all those clothes.
Trembling, she continued to dance in his arms. Oh dear, how could she have forgotten what she had become? How could she have thrust herself into the center of attention in this way? How could she have allowed herself to risk being noticed by the prince?
Oh, how she despised herself at that moment for her pride, which had driven her into the center of the room. She glanced anxiously back at her mother, who was following her with a worried look.Save me, Mother! Please!
“I’m so very glad you’ve come, my esteemed Mirabelle.”
She had to give him an answer—she could see that he was expecting it. But how should she reply? She certainly mustn’t offend him.
“Honored prince, I am truly sorry to disappoint you, but please believe me when I say that I am most assuredly not amongst the maidens who are worthy of your choosing.”
The prince’s eyes were twinkling. “I hadn’t expected you to be so shy. But have no fear, I know how I must choose.”
Mirabelle was about to reply, but the prince laid his fingers upon the veil and over her lips, the soft contours of which hecould only guess at. She trembled at his touch and went weak in the knees, and at that moment, she wished—oh, how she wished—she had not been the one to have been so disfigured by cruel fate. Why could it not have struck another, one who hadn’t been as especially pretty as she had ben? Why did it have to be her? What had she done?
She heaved a sigh, and the prince understood it as confirmation.
“My esteemed Mirabelle, when will you do us the honor of removing your veil?”
Mirabelle froze in the middle of the dance. She tried to break free of the prince, but he held her fast with an iron grip. He pulled her closer and lifted his hand to sweep the veil aside, but Mirabelle managed to lean back in time, and he missed his mark.
“Please, let me go. I need to see my mother.”
“Why are you acting so coy? In my view, you have kept us in suspense long enough. Let me see the pretty face you’re hiding under that veil!”
“Pardon me, noble Prince Gustav von Lichtenberg.” It was the voice of Mirabelle’s mother, who had come to her aid. “My daughter is not feeling well. She has been ill for quite some time and is in need of rest. I shall escort her out into the fresh air.”
Already, her mother’s protective hands were encircling her daughter’s waist and gently pulling her back. But the prince would not allow his catch to be wrested from him.
“Very well, madame, have no fear. I shall safely escort your daughter out. How fortunate that you’re well again, dear Mirabelle. It would have been a great loss to us had you not graced us with your presence today.” He would not let go of her hand, as if he could sense that she wanted to flee.
The other guests stepped to the side and formed a narrow lane. Taking her by the hand, the prince led Mirabelle out to the large balcony, with a number of curious guests in theirwake. Nobody wished to miss the moment when the heir to the throne would fall to his knees to propose to his future wife, and the ladies there planned to be on hand should the prince elect to distance himself from this mysterious woman and look for another.
Mirabelle’s mother hurried after them, but the throng of people pushed her back, and she could not fight her way through to her daughter. She had no wish to draw more attention to Mirabelle than necessary, so she kept her elbows by her sides. But she never stopped trying to weave her way through in a pleasant and proper manner.
Having arrived at the balustrade, the prince leaned against the ornate railing and observed Mirabelle, who was feigning discomfort by breathing deeply in and out. But not for a moment would he let go of her hand, like a hunter afraid that his prey might escape.
