Page 15 of Portrait of a Lady
“The goddess is far more appropriate for an interlude with your courtesan,” her companion had insisted. “Just think of how enamored he will be when he sees you! He’ll be fit to take you to the ground and ravish you then and there.”
That was exactly the problem, but when she’d spoken her concerns aloud, Patience had waved her off. While Evelyn worried that the indecent gown and lack of any undergarment other than a thin chemise might mislead Hugh into thinking her an experienced seductress, Patience reminded her that he would know better. There was nothing to worry about, and she looked positively ravishing according to Patience.
So, Evelyn had donned the fancy dress and allowed Patience to style her hair but had insisted upon preserving at least some of her modesty. Patience had argued that the paisley shawl draped over her shoulders completely ruined the effect, but Evelyn had refused to leave home without it.
As they passed through the proprietor’s house, she took comfort in the shield the fabric offered between the world and her breasts, which spilled quite indecently from the gown’s flimsy bodice.
“Oh, I can hardly wait!” Patience chirped as the gardens loomed into view through the open doors, the noise of music, laughter, and conversation drifting through the air.
Evelyn swallowed and held tighter to her companion’s arm, unable to respond as her heart seemed to have lodged itself into her throat. But then, her trepidation quickly dissolved into awe as they entered the gardens on the Grand Walk and found themselves ensconced in what felt like another world entirely.
The soft, whimsical light of thousands of glass lanterns set the gardens aglow, kissing the night with a touch of magic. They hung from the trees, loomed from the top of tall lampposts, and gleamed from within the various stone archways and obelisks in the distance. To their left, the massive rotunda glowed with the light of its own lamps in variegated colors, amplifying the adornment of spring flowers festooning it in a festive display.
To their right, an open-air temple housed an orchestra sitting in an upper room enclosed by elegant arches, illuminated by a large chandelier hanging overhead. Beneath them, costumed revelers danced with a wild gaiety that would never have been permissible in any ballroom, their laughter punctuating each note of music.
More of the lanterns illuminated the walk, showing the way deeper into the gardens, where even more of the lights dotted the night like a multitude of stars.
Patience squealed with excitement as they took it all in, exclaiming over every little thing—the lights, the costumes, the music. Evelyn’s mouth fell open as she spotted entertainers dotting the crowd: jugglers in colorful habits and venetian masks, a tightrope walker delicately balanced on a cord between two large trees, acrobats climbing onto each other’s shoulders and flipping together through the air. Heat and light exploded right before their faces, and Evelyn yelped, retreating until she came up against Joseph, his hold the only thing keeping her on her feet.
Pressing a hand to her heaving chest, Evelyn blinked and glanced about, searching for the source of the ball of fire that had appeared from out of nowhere before disappearing into thin air. A man styled in the mode of the Middle East, with a turban and jeweled mask, was breathing fire, making large spheres of it explode from the torch he held in one hand. He grinned and gave her a nod before moving on, clearing a path through the crowd and performing the trick again, much to the delight of his spectators.
“I hardly know where to look,” Patience exclaimed, eyes darting about behind her mask.
Evelyn murmured an agreement, her own gaze roaming to take in the spectacle as they continued down the Grand Walk. Hugh had instructed her to meet him at the Cascade, which was straight down this path. With so many bodies clogging the walkway, and a number of entertainments catching their eye at every turn, it would be slow progress.
Patience took her arm once more, laughing as she pointed out the various beautiful, ironic, and downright ridiculous costumes. Amongst the sea of dancers, a nun shrieked with laughter between sips of arrack punch while being swung about in the arms of a man dressed as a large, yellow banana. A black-cloaked witch sported a mask with a long, skinny nose, which struck the side of a wood nymph’s head when she turned to greet a friend. A woman dressed as a rosebush, with hundreds of false blossoms covering her gown and creating an elaborate hairpiece, danced in the arms of a man outfitted as a bee, his long black stinger whipping about behind him.
“Oh, look, Miss!” Patience cried, pointing toward a woman holding court near the colonnade of supper boxes. “Isn’t she lovely? What do you suppose she’s meant to be?”
Evelyn observed the woman’s nearly transparent white tulle gown, which had false grass sewn to its bottom to appear like a green lawn. Her hair hung loose down her back in a pale blonde curtain, over which she wore a veil covered in tiny clear crystals. She was surrounded by men, all whom fought to capture and hold her attention as she giggled and flirted from behind a white mask.
She smiled as she realized what the witty, yet seductive costume was meant to convey.
“I believe she is the morning dew,” Evelyn said. “Covering the grass.”
“Yes, that’s it,” Patience agreed. “So very clever.”
They passed the long row of supper boxes, the occupants within toasting with glasses of champagne, voices raised to a volume that seemed only appropriate given the occasion and location.
They paused a few times along the path to take in some sight or another—fountains, manmade ruins meant to mimic those of Ancient Rome, small pavilions in which were displayed works of art to be studied by lamplight. People milled about sipping their spirits and conversing, while a group of men young enough to still be in university staggered along the gravel path, bumping and jostling one another while serenading anyone who would listen with an off-key rendition of “The Lusty Young Smith”. One of them called out to Patience with a wide smile, telling her how lovely her costume was, and how he’d always had an affinity for shepherdesses. Patience merely offered the man a playful curtsy before pulling Evelyn along. She seemed determined for Evelyn not to be late for meeting Hugh, and they were nearly to the Cascade.
Evelyn’s heart began to pound as they entered a more heavily wooded area. Still well lit, it stood more removed from the revelry happening behind them, though music still wafted through the night. She could hardly concentrate on the revelers in their fancy dress, or the beauty of the gardens surrounding her; not when they drew closer and closer to the moment of truth. Her hands became numb, the fabric of her shawl falling to dangle from her useless fingers.
A crowd of people gathered before a large curtain hinted that they’d reached their destination: the spectacle of the Cascade, which had yet to begin. Her gaze flitted about, landing on a gentleman here or there, as she tried to determine which of them might be Hugh. She had sent him a short note accepting his invitation to the masquerade, along with a description of her costume. However, he had not sent a return missive, so she had no notion of what to look for. Was her courtesan tall or short? Was he dark-haired or towheaded? He might have at least told her what his fancy dress might consist of.
Agitation had her nearly in a fit, when she felt the heavy weight of eyes upon her. Evelyn stiffened and turned her head, seeking the person watching her so intently that she could feel it.
Her grip tightened on Patience when she found him. Her chest ached from the breath she held as he met her gaze and held it without wavering. Arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against a tree with the glow of a dozen lamps illuminating him. Removed from the crowd, he made quite an impressive sight in the opulent trimmings of a Hungarian hussar.
A short black coat clung to broad shoulders and flaunted a tapered waist, while matching breeches and Hessian boots molded to his legs. The entire suit was enhanced with opulent gold braid, swirling in patterns ending in elaborate knots. Shining gold buttons lined the coat-front in two vertical rows. A matching cape draped his right shoulder, held in place by a gold chain. A black mask covered his eyes and nose, while a cylindrical hat with a tall black plume sat at a rakish angle atop his head. A decorative saber hung in a sheath off his left hip.
“Miss...could that be him?”
Evelyn couldn’t look away from him, though she did offer Patience a slow nod. Ithadto be him. She was not the sort of woman men generally noticed. That he watched her so intently must mean he was the one she’d come to meet.
“He looks so dashing,” Patience gushed, jostling Evelyn as she bounced with barely contained excitement. One would thinkshewas the one beginning an illicit affair tonight.
Evelyn wanted to argue that Patience couldn’t possibly tell how handsome Hugh might be from this distance. He might have crossed eyes, or a carbuncle on his nose, or possess one eyebrow instead of two. But then, she told herself she was being foolish. Of course he was handsome, his profession as a courtesan would demand it. And hedidcut a dashing.
