Page 11 of Passion Painted in a Lady's Heart
The forecourt was busy, and half a dozen other carriages were disgorging their occupants amid much laughter and excitement. The masquerade was a spectacular sight, and the outfits and masks were a riot of color and carnival. Sebastian now put on his own mask, covering the worried expression on his face, and preparing to enter a world of fantasy and fiction, where the normal rules of society no longer applied.
“I’ll see you later,” Sebastian said, as the compartment door was opened.
“I wonder who I’ll dance with,” his stepmother said, following him out onto the forecourt before disappearing into the throng.
Sebastian knew John would be there somewhere, but where?
“Welcome, sir. Your invitation, please, though we don’t announce your name,” a steward said, greeting Sebastian at the door.
Around him, a throng of masked revelers were entering the manor house, and there was much laughter and excitement as masks were compared, and identities guessed at.
“Oh, I think that’s the Baron of Totley. He wore the same mask last year,” one woman said, sweeping past Sebastian in a flowing peacock blue dress.
“Or he’s just swapped with someone else. We could do the same, Maisy,” her companion replied, and these same conversations were repeated all around him as Sebastian made his way into the ballroom.
There was no denying it was a spectacular sight. The marbled columns, the imposing portraits, the candle lit chandeliers, and the large windows looking out over the gardens where the evening sun was turning everything a shade of pink. Musicians were playing a waltz, and many of the guests were dancing, while others stood at the refreshment table sipping punch, or helping themselves to form the plates of dainty morsels.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Sebastian thought to himself, for he was hardly in the mood to dance or make merry.
A somber mood hung over him, and had it not been for his mask, others would surely have noticed his expression and passed comment. But no one could see his face, and thus, his mood went unnoticed, as those around him reveled in the freedom of the masquerade.
He felt anxious to maintain a mask of normality. His forgetfulness was worrying him. What if he drew blank at a familiar face or confused a past event or person? He felt like an outcast, unable to participate in a world he would soon forget.
“Won’t you come and dance?” a woman wearing a fish mask asked, seizing Sebastian’s hand.
Reluctantly, he was drawn into her embrace, her hands around his waist as she jostled him into the throng of dancers caught up in a waltz. Sebastian had never been a very good dancer, and several times he trod on the woman’s toes.
“I’m sorry,” he said, but she only laughed.
“It’s quite all right. I can’t really see a thing, anyway. This was my sister’s mask. She’s married now and thinks these occasions are quite frivolous. I like them, though. There’s such an air of mystery about it. I could be dancing with anyone; even the regent himself,” she exclaimed, as they bumped into another couple, who laughed off the encounter with similar words.
When the waltz came to an end, the woman clung to Sebastian, and it seemed she would gladly have continued the evening in his company, even as he now made his excuses.
“I’m going to take the air. My mask is quite stifling,” he said, not wishing to upset her, but also not wishing to prolong their encounter.
She sounded disappointed, but told him to come and find her when he returned.
“I don’t think anyone else is wearing a fish mask,” she said, and Sebastian smiled.
“No. I don’t think they are,” he said, giving a curt bow before slipping away, and hoping the woman had not taken enough notice of his mask to recognize him later.
He was thinking about going home. There was no sign of John, and the evening was starting to drag. Making his way out onto the terrace, Sebastian took the air for a few moments, watching as the sun set over the horizon. It was a beautiful evening, very still, and the pleasant scent of early summer flowers was rising from the garden below, perfuming the air. Sebastian sighed.
“I’ll be driven mad by the worry of the madness,” he thought to himself, trying to put the matter out of his mind.
He remembered the late Marquess of Graystone. He had been an art lover and wondered if there might be something of interest to view in another part of the house. He felt churlish for slipping away from the ballroom and its revelries, but he knew he would not be missed. One mask was the same as another, and there could be no telling who was who among the mass of disguises.
Sebastian now returned inside, slipping behind the columns and along a gallery leading off from the ballroom, interested in seeing what treasures the house contained, and thinking of his mother, who would certainly have done just the same.
***
The sounds of the revelry were now distant, and Rosalind gazed around her with interest, looking up at the display of artworks hanging on the walls. She had found herself in an unusually shaped room. It was round, with a dome, and the ceiling depicted a night sky full of stars and a moon.
The walls were hung with a set of paintings, all of which appeared to be by the same artist. They showed a series of landscapes; rural idylls with depictions of country life. The subjects were not particularly interesting, but the skill of the painter was evident, and Rosalind marveled at the techniques, longing for her own abilities to match those of the unknown painter.
“It’s quite extraordinary” she thought to herself, leaning forward to examine the nearest picture, hung on what appeared to be the outside of a cupboard, made to look like a portion of the wall.
She was just examining it more closely, when a sudden sound startled her, and the door itself flew open, revealing two masked people, a man and a woman. They stumbled out, shrieking with laughter, knocking Rosalind back as they did so. One of them was holding a bottle of wine, and the contents now flew out of the top, spattering Rosalind’s dress, as the two revelers collapsed in a fit of hysterics.
