Dance with the Fae

Chapter 1

Chapter One

T o truly be the hero of a fairy tale, a man should be a seventh son, or at the very least, the third.

Kit Arton-Price was neither, but then he was never intended to be a hero and had never wanted to be.

He should also have endured a trial or suffered under a curse, but it would have been churlish in the extreme to regard his engagement party as a curse.

He left that judgement for someone else to make.

‘Watching you looking so unconcerned at your fiancée dancing so intimately with another man, could lead an onlooker to believe you don’t care about the fact. Or the fiancée.’

Kit slid his gaze sideways to look at his cousin. There was nothing in Oliver Vane’s expression to suggest malicious intent, so perhaps his observation was simply that.’

‘Adelaide is a modern woman,’ Kit said. ‘She can dance with whomever she pleases.’

He swirled his glass around, inhaling the peaty fumes of the single malt he was steadily working his way through, before placing the tumbler on the mantelpiece of the great fireplace. This was already his third of the night and his brain was starting to feel soft around the edges. He didn’t want to give anyone more cause to stare at him than they already had.

‘I don’t intend to limit Addie’s social life after we’re married so would not dream of doing it beforehand,’ he said.

Oliver snorted. ‘Even so, young Christopher, your engagement party is hardly the place to concede the floor.’

‘I’m not conceding the floor,’ Kit said a touch defensively. He bristled a little, too, at ‘young’. Oliver, aged thirty, was only four years older than him.

‘I’d rather be in the library with a pile of journals from The Royal Society than be gawped at by the gathered families from Dalbymoorside come to stare at the war hero.’

‘God, you sound bitter,’ Oliver muttered. ‘At least you got to serve.’

Oliver was a veterinarian and though he had wanted to enlist, his poor eyesight had seen him remaining in his practice at home. The family had often joked that he was just about able to tell a cow from a horse but Kit wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

He grimaced, his jaw clenching to the point of pain. ‘Be glad you didn’t. Besides, keeping the livestock fit and healthy probably did more for King and Country than me wallowing in mud-filled ditches among the dying did.’

Their eyes met, then Oliver dropped his.

‘I’m sorry, Kit. I can’t begin to imagine what you went through.’

Kit’s mouth jerked into an uncomfortable smile.

‘I’m trying my best to forget.’

Some nights he almost managed it and slept for four or five hours in a row without gasping awake in sweat-drenched sheets.

‘I really would rather be standing here than dancing,’ Kit said. ‘I’m a terrible dancer; far too self-conscious. Adelaide deserves a partner who won’t tread on her feet, and I get to admire her from the best position to watch her dancing. No one loses.’

Both men returned their attention to the dance floor where Adelaide Wyndham and her partner held court. They glided across the room, other couples moving out of their way, like the Red Sea parting. Adelaide had a look of utter ecstasy on her face, laughing with glee as the man dipped her backwards. He danced with much more of a sense of rhythm and flair than Kit had ever managed and, if anything, it was that which sparked his envy rather than seeing Adelaide in his arms. To be able to move with such freedom from inhibition was an attribute Kit didn’t possess.

‘Who is he, anyway?’ Oliver asked, leaning back against the wall and wrinkling one of the ancient tapestries that adorned the brick walls.

Kit exhaled, frowning slightly. ‘I haven’t the foggiest idea, actually. I’ve never seen him before. Probably someone Father knows from the town council or some sort of war bureau that hasn’t wrapped everything up.’

Oliver snorted. ‘He doesn’t look like any sort of councillor I’ve come across.’

Kit regarded the stranger with more interest. He was a tall man, dark-haired, slender-framed and dressed in an impeccably tailored suit of light grey. At the neck of his high-collared, white shirt was a purple silk cravat tied in an extravagant style.

Despite his assertions, Oliver’s words had hit a nerve. Kit wondered if he was being too trusting. He wouldn’t blame Adelaide if she was tempted by other men, especially one as flamboyant as this. Neither of them were the same people they had been before the Great War had left its mark. In Kit’s case, literally as well as metaphorically.

He pushed those thoughts aside and forced himself to focus on the present moment. This was their engagement party, a time for celebration and joy, not only for the happy couple but for their families, friends and half the neighbourhood who had descended on Meadwell Hall ahead of May Day. The Long Hall, the oldest part of the original manor house, was alive with music, talking and laughter. The ladies wore long gowns in rich colours that seemed determined to prove the good times had returned, while their partners sported black dinner jackets.

As if the four-piece jazz band wasn’t enough, at the furthest end of the room, a group of older guests stood around an old gramophone, singing along to its crackly tunes, while in the large, recessed fireplace sat a group of young children playing a game of Ludo with their nanny.

As the dance came to an end, Adelaide’s partner bowed and murmured something close in her ear. She looked up into his eyes and smiled, then quick as a flash she dropped her gaze. The stranger walked away from the dance floor. His gait was slow and graceful as if he had all the time in the world to get where he needed to go.

Emboldened by the whisky that was slowly working its way through his system, Kit walked to Adelaide and offered her his hand.

‘Come on, Addie, old thing. I owe you a dance.’

As Adelaide took his hand, the diamond engagement ring, which Kit had placed on her finger two weeks previously, winked, catching a beam of light thrown by the heavy candelabras hanging from the oak beams. They looked at it, then smiled at each other; a private moment in the tumult. The music swirled around them, and Adelaide wrapped her arms around his neck. Drawing him closer. Bringing him into reach of her scent and warmth.

‘Are you having fun, darling?’ Adelaide had to shout to make herself heard above the racket.

‘Very much,’ Kit replied.

Adelaide pulled back slightly and rolled her eyes. ‘Are you lying, darling?’

Kit had to remind himself that he and Adelaide had known each other all their lives and were the closest of all the children in their generation. It was exceedingly rare for him to get anything past her.

‘I’m only lying a little.’ He gave her a sheepish grin.

If he’d been asked his opinion (which, he was learning, was subtly different to being consulted on matters when it came to being an engaged man) Kit would have said a quiet lunch with Adelaide and their respective parents and siblings would have sufficed to celebrate the engagement that had been on the cards pretty much since they had been born. However, it had been too many years since Meadwell Hall had seen so many guests and so much decadence, and Kit’s parents, Charles and Ellen, had declared it the ideal occasion to open up the house again.

Adelaide seemed to read Kit’s thoughts, as she so often did.

‘We both know this party is to celebrate the peace as much as anything else.’

‘I know.’ It was never far from Kit’s mind that while he had returned home, many of the men who had enlisted alongside him, had not. Icy fingers tore at his heart and belly, ripping them with grief. What right did he have to grudge their bereaved mothers and widows the opportunity for an evening of pleasure? Didn’t he himself want a respite from the constant heartache that he couldn’t even admit to?

‘I just feel like a zoo exhibit. “Come and see the war hero returned home”. I can feel everyone who has lost someone watching me and wondering why it was their son or brother, not me, who didn’t return.’

Adelaide’s embrace tightened. ‘Do you blame them? If you hadn’t come back, I’d have been feeling exactly the same.’

The song ended and another began. A familiar tune that had been popular throughout the war. He’d performed a bad tango to it in a dreadful regimental theatre revue, a mile or two outside Vimy, with a Canadian gunner named Andrew. Later, they’d met in the gloom behind the makeshift stage. Kit closed his eyes, lost in memories of Andrew’s arms around his neck, the taste of cheap scotch on their lips.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a spare box of Lucifers? I dropped mine in the mud!”

He stumbled, fingers gripping tightly on Adelaide’s shoulder.

She squeezed his hand. ‘It’s hard for you isn’t it.’

‘It is,’ he admitted. But not for the reasons she would assume. How could he possibly explain that hidden, unlawful side of his nature. That he desired men in the same way as he wanted women was something he could never speak of, least of all to Adelaide.

‘After this dance I’ll go ask Father to do all the toasts and after that people can go on their way,’ she said.

A feeling of affection swept through him.

‘You don’t have to do that if you’re enjoying dancing,’ he said. ‘I’d better get used to making myself a presence in the area. I’m going to be Lord of the Manor eventually so I might as well start practising now.’

‘I really don’t mind,’ Adelaide said, smiling at him. ‘We can slip off into the gardens with a bottle of champagne. Just us two, or maybe Ollie and the Youngers if I’m still feeling tolerant by that point.’

Kit had to smile. The Youngers (as opposed to the Elders, who were their parents) was their childhood name for Kit’s sister, Charlotte, and Oliver’s sister, Millicent. Even though Adelaide was the same age as the two other girls – two years younger than Kit – she had always considered herself a contemporary (and equal) to Kit and Oliver.

‘If you two are going to just talk, you should move to the edge of the floor! You’re getting in the way of those of us who want to dance.’

The speaker was Millicent Vane, Oliver’s sister. She and Reverend Keeth, the vicar of St Mary and the Holy Cross, appeared to be dancing a waltz despite the music being a foxtrot. Kit and Adelaide murmured half-hearted apologies and Millicent and the vicar moved off in the other direction.

‘You would think that spending two years nursing would have given Cousin Millie a little compassion, but she’s as sharp as ever,’ Adelaide muttered, eying the other woman through narrowed eyes. ‘That’s probably why she can’t find a partner her own age to dance with. I’m definitely not including her in the secret champagne drinker’s confederation.’

‘That’s a little unfair. It isn’t as if there are a bucket-load of young men to choose from,’ Kit pointed out. ‘Besides, Reverend Keeth is an old friend of the family and he deserves the chance to dance, too. Talking of partners, who were you dancing with before me? A tall gentleman I didn’t recognise. He was wearing a purple silk cravat.’

‘Lilacs,’ Adelaide said slowly. ‘He told me such sad stories. Something about lilacs and planting a seed to bloom later.’

Her eyes glazed, as if she was overcome with grief or pity for whatever he had told her. The man was standing at the edge of the dance floor close by one of the alcoves. His arms were folded across his chest and one hand was raised to support his chin. He was alone and gave Kit the impression of a cat deciding which of a nest of fledglings to pounce upon.

‘There he is,’ Kit said, manoeuvring Adelaide around.

‘Oh yes, ‘Adelaide said. Her cheeks reddened. ‘He’s very distinctive.’

‘What do you know about him?’

‘I don’t really remember.’ Adelaide blinked and an expression of unease rippled over her face. ‘I think I forgot to listen.’

Kit and the stranger made eye contact, and a shiver danced lightly down Kit’s spine. It was completely understandable that she’d find the man attractive (Kit did too if he was being honest with himself), but she didn’t need to fib about it.

‘Perhaps you should lay off the champagne,’ he suggested lightly.

‘Nonsense!’ Adelaide lifted her chin and gave him a determined look. ‘You know I can hold my drink and I won’t be too tired in the morning. When I worked in the convalescent hospital, they used to give me the night shift especially, as I’m so good at staying up late and still rising early. Do you know, I never once let my alarm clock ring more than three times before I stopped it. It was a point of honour.’

‘Lucky you,’ Kit said, giving her a grin. ‘I’d happily lie in bed until nine if I had the chance. Every day I was in France, I’d dream of the day I could do just that.’

‘Well, now you’re home, you can do as you please,’ Adelaide said. She tilted her head to one side, looking up at him boldly. ‘After the wedding, we’ll have to work out a timetable of sorts to make sure we have some hours when we’re both awake.’

Kit’s stomach scurried. They hadn’t discussed matrimonial sleeping arrangements and he wondered whether Adelaide would favour twin beds or the rather old-fashioned double. He assumed she was a virgin, but these days, when women had had so many interesting opportunities during war, she might well not be. He’d almost lost his virginity to a buxom Dutch nurse with whom he’d had a brief romance in 1917, but before they could consummate it, orders had sent them separate ways.

They reached the edge of the dance floor, close to where Oliver stood, just as the song ended.

‘Wait with Ollie. I’ll go and speak to Father,’ Adelaide instructed Kit, before dashing off towards the far end of the room where the Elders were gathered.

‘You were right,’ Oliver said, handing Kit the glass, which he’d refilled in Kit’s absence.

‘Right about what?’

‘That you’re a godawfully bad dancer.’ Oliver laughed. ‘The only couple worse were Millicent and the vicar, and he’s got the excuse of an arthritic knee. Are you sure they didn’t miss a piece of shrapnel stuck in your foot?’

A chill ran down Kit’s back. The explosion that had taken him out of action had left his legs mercifully uninjured. All the damage had been done to his face. The visible damage, that was. He felt his arm jerk, fingers instinctively reaching for his cheek.

‘Oh lord, I’m sorry,’ Oliver gasped, mouth dropping open in dismay. ‘I’m making a complete ass of myself this evening.’

Kit swallowed. ‘Let’s go face the audience.’

They wandered down the hall to join Adelaide and the Elders. Adelaide’s mother, Sarah, and Kit’s mother, Ellen, were efficiently organising the staff who stood with trays bearing champagne flutes. Their fathers were discussing the toasts they were about to give, and their grandfather, Christopher Price, ancient in his wheeled bath chair, was tolerating his wife, Sybil, who was fussing with his bow tie. Kit put the uncomfortable exchange with his cousin to the back of his mind as he greeted them all.

He met his father’s eye and nodded. Charles tapped the small gong which had stood at the end of the hall for centuries. Silence descended across the gathering in a wave, spreading out from those closest to those at the back until there was silence.

‘My dear friends, I’m delighted so many of you could be here to celebrate the engagement of Kit and my dear niece, Adelaide. Almost as much as I am glad that that branch of the family will be returning to the correct part of Yorkshire.’ Charles paused for the inevitable laughter.

Richard Wyndham had returned to his native Halifax taking Sarah Price with him. Adelaide had been adopted there, but the Wyndhams had spent every summer at Meadwell Hall.

Kit smiled into the gathering crowd. It was good to see faces he recognised: immediate and extended family, neighbours in whose gardens he had played, the doctor who had nursed him through childhood illnesses, women who furnished the church with flowers, the nursing mothers with soups and the households with gossip.

There were strangers, too; men and women who had arrived between his departure and return. He really should make an effort to introduce himself to them. Some faces that should have been there weren’t: the men Kit had known since childhood, whose bodies were now mouldering in French cemeteries and whose absence made his heart ache to bursting point.

Uncle Richard gave a speech along the same lines as Charles: families creating stronger bonds, the love between the cousins, et cetera.

He felt Adelaide slip her hand into his and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. Her lips were fixed into a wide smile. The marriage had always been inevitable and no one making a toast was crass enough to mention the huge dowry or the vaster sum Adelaide would inherit eventually. Charles had inherited the estate. Sarah’s wealth through marriage to Richard would provide the money it needed to keep going. Kit considered himself lucky that it wasn’t Millicent’s father who had made the fortune.

After the applause died away, Christopher Price motioned for Kit and Adelaide to help him from his wheeled chair. Despite being eighty, he still stood tall, eyes piercingly blue and clear. He gazed fondly at his grandchildren then faced the guests and spoke in his rasping voice.

‘Reverend Keeth, I intend to live long enough to witness this marriage being sanctified in holy matrimony at St Mary and the Holy Cross, so I suggest you start considering appropriate hymns once you have sobered up tomorrow.’

From the timbre of his voice, a listener might assume Christopher was vexatious or short-tempered but as a matter of fact he had a wicked sense of fun and had taught the male grandchildren some of the dirtiest limericks Kit had ever heard. There was good-humoured laughter, not least from the vicar himself.

The servants had been moving through the guests, distributing champagne during the speeches.

‘Three cheers for Kit and Adelaide!’ Christopher announced, raising his flute.

‘And good luck to them both!’ shouted Kit’s younger brother Alfred, which caused a burst of laughter.

As he raised his glass in acknowledgement, Kit scanned the crowd again. His eye fell on Adelaide’s mysterious dancing partner. His arms were crossed and his glass was still full. He had been staring into the bubbles that rose and fell in the pale liquid, but now he raised his head and looked directly at Kit with eyes that pierced him with cold. Remembering the way the stranger had danced with, then watched Adelaide, Kit wondered just how much he might need Alfred’s blessing of luck.