Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
J uliet was glad of the mask that she had been given by Aunt Margaret. It was an old piece that had previously belonged to Frances, and though it did little to complement the rest of her costume, it served its purpose well in hiding her face. She was also glad that when Aunt Margaret was announced at the door of the Great Hall, it was only Frances and Edith who were announced alongside her. A whispered word to the doorman had kept Juliet’s name absent.
Perhaps these people would not remember the illness that Judith Semphill had suffered, the illness that so many were afraid of. Perhaps they would not remember the testimony that a young Juliet had given, which had led to a duel and a death. Still, she was glad she needn’t find out tonight.
As they strolled into the Great Hall, she felt eyes upon her nevertheless. Frances glided through the room like a swan, instantly garnering herself a circle of young men. Edith drifted to the periphery of the room along with Juliet—until her mother spotted her. Then, with a roll of her eyes, she obediently followed her mother in mingling.
For a time, Juliet drifted by the edges of the gathering, ignored and paying little attention. The room was grand but the towering stone walls and high vaulted ceiling were oppressive. It shut out the warm, summer night sky and the gentle breeze that Juliet had felt before they had entered the castle.
Worse, it was the home of a man who was a recluse because of her.
She dreaded coming face to face with him and reasoned that avoiding the crowd that had gathered in the Great Hall would be the best way of avoiding him. In a drawstring bag that she had artfully fashioned and which was tied at her waist, she had created a comfortable nest for Archibald, her pet mouse. She could feel him stirring within the bag and rested her hand upon it, gently stroking him through the fabric.
At the far end of the room, Juliet saw the arches behind the grand staircase. It looked a good place to avoid attention, shadowy and void of people. She quickened her steps, willing those standing between her and the arches to ignore her. Finally, she stood cloaked within the shadows where she could study the room but not be observed. She untied the drawstring bag and allowed Archie to clamber out onto her hand. He nosed the air, whiskers twitching, and Juliet smiled, running a gentle finger down his back.
“Well, here I am again, Archie,” she whispered, “in the house where I allowed myself to be bullied into giving evidence against a man that I do not believe was guilty. Too late now, of course. What’s done is done.”
That fateful night was one that she thought of often. Afraid and isolated, she had honestly believed what she had said. But in hindsight, she could see how she was manipulated. Her memory of what truly occurred that night was hazy, incomplete. But, while she could not be certain that the accused man had not been in the process of assaulting Lady Meredith—nor could she say confidently that he had.
The image remained burned into her mind of the young man standing over Lady Meredith, who cowered on the floor. But what had preceded that? Her words had condemned two men and yet she could not be certain of the truth!
Forcing her mind from the troubling past, she smiled as Archie stood on his hind legs, front paws gripping onto her finger. There would be plenty of food that she could feed him—servants were circulating among the guests with trays of wine and cheese. She lifted Archie to her shoulder where he loved to perch, as she looked around for the nearest food-bearing servant. As she did, a figure caught her eye, but it was most certainly not a servant.
He was approaching the arches as though he, too, wished to seek sanctuary from the throng. His mask was a bronze stag’s head, complete with antlers, and he was dressed entirely in black. It was only at that moment that Juliet remembered her mask, which she had removed when she had stepped into the shadows of the arches.
The man was gawking at her, eyes icy blue and penetrating. Juliet experienced a thrill of fear at the realization that her face was exposed, that any who knew it would recognize her. She gave a start and felt Archie leap from her shoulder in response.
“Archie!” she cried, “oh no! This cannot be happening!”
But Archie had escaped, scurrying as fast as his little feet would carry him, swallowed by darkness. Juliet lifted her skirts to go after him but had already lost sight of the little creature. He could have gone in any direction, even out into the Great Hall!
“I believe I know where the little fellow has gone,” the stag-masked stranger cut in abruptly. “If he keeps to the shadows, he will find his way to the Gallery. It is of solid stone and there is no other way out. Come—I will help you.”
Then he was darting off along the arches, leaving the Great Hall and the gathered guests behind. Juliet hesitated for just a moment before following. She had no clue who this man was but she would not lose her pet. For all she knew, Ravenscourt had cats that would hunt Archie down. Perhaps hounds. They would attack a mouse if they saw it, and if they were bloodhounds, they would be able to track him throughout the castle. The very idea was horrifying and she soon found herself hastening after the tall, dark figure with the stag’s head.
The chase led to the end of the arches and up a stone, spiral staircase which wound behind the Grand Staircase. The sound of their footsteps echoed loudly in the confined space which rose so steeply that Juliet found herself putting out her hands to the steps above her as she climbed. At the top, the man stood, glancing around, blue eyes alert. Juliet realized that they stood on a long walkway, screened from the room below by a painted wooden lattice. On the far side of the walkway hung pictures.
All seemed to be of people in masks. Some were men and others women. All were resplendent in their finest clothes. In some paintings, the figures were dancing. In others, they stood as though posing for a portrait.
“There!” the man almost shouted, pointing along the stone walkway to its far end.
“Don’t!” Juliet cried out, “You will frighten him. We must approach cautiously and carefully. Please.”
The man nodded. Juliet kept her eyes on Archie, who crouched at the far end of the walk where it turned a sharp corner. Feeling eyes upon her, she glanced at the man. His eyes darted away, though she thought he had certainly been watching her. He was intriguing, not just because of his elaborate mask which covered his head and completely hid his identity. He was tall and his black satin and velvet clothes clung to his masculine figure. It left no doubt as to his physique. He had broad shoulders and well-developed upper arms. His waist was small and his chest broad. Despite his size, he moved with grace and care as he crept along the gallery walkway behind her.
“This animal is a pet?” he whispered.
“He is,” Juliet replied.
“Unusual to bring a pet to a ball.”
Archie was now perched on the balustrade of the walkway, beyond which was a long drop to the Great Hall below. Juliet knew that the mouse was in no danger of falling, but it might just scurry down the balustrade and then the wall to spread panic among the ladies below. She reached into the bag in which she had sheltered him and took out a crumb of bread—all that was left of the snack she had left there for him. She placed it on the balustrade beside her and watched the mouse’s nose twitch.
“I brought him for company. These affairs are long and lonely,” Juliet murmured, her attention on Archie rather than on the words she was saying.
Had she been paying more attention, she would have thought that perhaps she was revealing too much of herself to this stranger. The stag’s antlers craned as he regarded her. Juliet found herself looking back.
For a long moment, her eyes held his.
They were wonderfully clear and as blue as a summer sky. She found herself wondering at the thoughts behind those eyes. Surely this was a man of honor and nobility. It was fanciful, she knew. Cruel and dishonorable men could possess appealing eyes. It was entirely her imagination, but she found herself unwilling to believe this man capable of cruelty. After all, he was helping her to recover Archie.
“There are over a hundred guests here tonight. Yet you are lonely,” he mumbled.
It was not a question but seemed as though he were thinking aloud, sounding out a puzzle.
“I would rather not be here to be perfectly honest,” Juliet found herself saying.
“You do not enjoy affairs such as this? I understood the Ravenscourt Annual Ball was an eagerly anticipated part of the social calendar.”
“And I am sure it is for everyone down there. But, not for me,” Juliet replied.
Archie was inching his way towards the bread. She froze, not wanting to startle him and silently urging her companion to do likewise. When she glanced at him though, he was looking at her still, not at Archie.
“Why is that?” he asked. “Do you perhaps… dislike your host?”
“I do not know our host,” Juliet murmured, “I have never met him. It is just that…”
She did not know how to explain but reasoned that she had already said too much for discretion. If this man was acquainted with the Godwins, he already had enough information to cause her a considerable amount of trouble from Aunt Margaret. Still, if that meant she was barred from attending future balls or luncheons, then that might not be entirely a bad thing. Except that it would mean spending the rest of her life as their ward, reliant on them for a roof over her head and the clothes on her back. That was not an attractive prospect either.
“I do not know how to dance,” she finished, somewhat lamely.
The man chuckled. “That can be learned. Is that really your only objection?”
“I am happier with my own company,” Juliet added.
“As am I.”
“Then why are you here?” she could not help but ask.
“Why are you?”
“I was forced to attend by my aunt and uncle. I am here out of duty.”
“As am I.”
Archie was almost within reach—but at that moment, Juliet felt the familiar, dreaded weakness that was the sign of an attack. Her legs began to feel shaky and a cold sweat formed on her brow. She put out a hand to steady herself. Archie backed away a few steps. Juliet leaned on the balustrade, closing her eyes for a moment.
“Are you unwell?” the man whispered, concern in his voice.
“It will pass. I just need to… to sit for a moment,” she breathed.
Archie scampered up to her hand and she scooped him up, putting him back into the drawstring bag before allowing her legs to give way. She had intended simply to slide down the balustrade until she was sitting on the floor with her back to it. But, her balance failed and she found herself leaning outward, the upper half of her body sloping over the stone railing. She felt strong arms about her suddenly and then the man with the stag’s head was lifting her from her feet.
Juliet fainted.