Chapter Ten
The night of the dance, Caspian sent sleek black vehicles for the women that pulled up to the open gates in an elegant line.
Vivian, Delilah, and Luz carefully found seats in one groundcar with several of the other women, mindful not to wrinkle the fine new formal dresses the artificial clothier had selected for each of them.
“I’ve never attended a ball before,” one of the women said. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”
“You mean a story that ends with a woman surrendering her independence to hitch her life to a man she just met?” Luz muttered.
Camille glared at Luz. “You don’t have to be here.”
“Actually, I do. It’s in our contract.”
Camille flicked her hand dismissively at Luz and turned to Delilah.
“I hope Theo is coming. Did I tell you he wants to take me to see live music? He said there’s a few Earthers from New Orleans that formed a jazz band.
I haven’t seen jazz in forever.” She bumped her friend on the shoulder.
“You’re thinking about seeing Caspian again, aren’t you? ”
Delilah giggled. “If he isn’t too busy hosting to dance with me.”
“He saved your life!” Camille responded. “He’ll make the time for you. I guarantee it.”
Looking out the window of the groundcar, Vivian allowed herself a moment of indulgent fantasy.
What if Silas was on the guest list? He’d been raised at Dorsey Estate after all.
Perhaps he knew the Hayes family. He’d ask her to dance the moment he laid eyes on her and encircle her in his arms while Xavier watched with a scowl.
She would dearly like to confront Xavier on Silas’s account.
She pictured the clever retorts she’d throw at Xavier while Silas looked on approvingly.
Luz touched her arm. “We’re here.” Her friend looked especially lovely in a dress of burnished orange that brought out her deep brown eyes and golden skin.
Her straight brown hair was swept into a high sleek bun on the top of her head, accented by a sparkling comb.
Luz’s stoic face reflected none of the other women’s cheeriness.
Ambient lighting bathed the manor, and the strains of string music echoed. The women mounted the steps and entered the great hall. Emerald vines adorned the spiral staircase cascading down into the spacious entryway.
In the foyer, they were met by Wim. He seemed to startle when he looked at her, then his head tilted as if he were listening to something far away. Wim bowed stiffly in her direction. “At the advice of the Intelligence, I take this opportunity of soliciting you, Miss Vivian, for your first dance.”
Vivian frowned. Why would he pay her attention, especially after her recent unsanctioned adventure? After a nudge from Luz, she cleared her throat and said, “I’m honored.”
Wim placed his hand lightly under hers and led her into the great room.
The walls of the room sparkled with glowing violet lighting.
Tiered platters of food lined the edges of the room and discreet Earther servers moved through the crowd with trays of coupe glasses filled with pale sparkling wine.
Martian couples circled elegantly to the classical music played by a six-piece orchestra mounted on a low dais.
Without giving her a moment to catch her bearings, Wim took her directly onto the dance floor.
The dance was mortifying. Wim was both awkward and solemn, often moving wrong without being aware of it. He spoke to her very little and seemed intent upon following the steps. She was relieved when he released her.
Finally free, Vivian found Luz and Delilah standing near one of the refreshment tables. “Did you not enjoy Reverend Adair’s undivided attention?” Luz teased.
“I think he bruised my toe with those awful little boots.” She looked sharply at her sister. “Why aren’t you on the dance floor?”
“Oh …” Delilah twisted her hands. “I’m just …” She looked across the room, and Vivian followed her gaze to where Caspian circled, shaking hands with his Martian guests and laughing jovially. Perhaps her sister cared about Caspian’s attention after all. “Have you tried the pastries, Viv?”
Vivian had just popped the pastry in her mouth when she sensed a tall, looming presence behind her. “Miss Bowen,” said Xavier. “I would like to claim the next dance, if you’ll have me.”
She gaped up at him, still chewing her pastry. Luz spoke for her. “Vivian would love nothing more.”
Xavier nodded seriously. “I will find you when the next song begins.” He walked away again immediately.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Delilah growled. “I can’t wait for him to come to me.” She marched determinedly away in Caspian’s direction.
Vivian glared at Luz. “I did tell you I hate the man, didn’t I?”
Luz smirked. “Hate is such a strong word. Don’t let your little crush on that soldier distract you. Xavier is on the approved list.”
“He isn’t approved,” Vivian protested. “Wim said so himself. Besides, he has no interest in this bizarre courtship ritual we’re being marched through.”
“For someone with no interest in finding a wife, he’s found excuses to put himself in your path a lot since we arrived.”
Vivian was spared having to form a response by Xavier’s return. He held a hand out to her, and she took it in silence.
The Martian style of dancing involved joining the man’s left hand and the woman’s right in a feather-light clasp.
On the opposite side, the man kept his hand below the woman’s arm, and she rested her hand on his shoulder.
When the women had practiced the dance forms in their dormitory, Vivian had been relieved by the distance and formality of the formation.
Xavier looked down on her with no expression as he turned her in confident, precise movements around the dance floor.
His hand held hers in a firmer grip than was customary between Martians and Earthers.
Elsewhere on the dance floor, Vivian could see Delilah and Caspian spinning and talking earnestly.
Her sister’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled.
When she could stand the silence no longer, Vivian asked, “Do you dance a lot?”
“No.”
After another excruciating pause, she addressed him a second time with, “It’s your turn to say something now, Mr. Dorsey.
Reverend Adair has stuffed us full of Martian ballroom etiquette.
I talked about the dance, and you ought to talk about something equally boring.
I don’t know—the size of the room or the number of couples. ”
He looked down at her with a smirk. “Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?”
“I’ve never been to a dance before tonight. We didn’t have balls in a refugee camp.”
“Of course,” Xavier said soberly. “Forgive the impertinent question.” He said nothing for a time and then forced out, “Did you and your sister enjoy exploring the barracks?”
“We did.” Unable to resist the temptation, she added, “When you saw us there the other day, we were making a new friend.”
Xavier scowled. “Silas Gatlin is very skilled at making friends. He’s not as good at retaining them.”
“He told me he lost your friendship. And an inheritance too.”
Xavier’s face returned to its polite neutral mask. “Let’s talk of other matters.”
“We’ve had no luck finding a topic so far,” Vivian shot back. “I can’t imagine what we are going to talk about next.”
“What do you think of books?” he asked, smiling slightly.
“Books—” To conceal her delight at being asked such a question, Vivian said.
“I’m sure we don’t read the same things.
” He read dry Council briefings. She wasn’t about to discuss her favorite crumbling paperback romances from the camps.
And she doubted he would be a lover of Earther nineteenth-century women’s literature.
“I am sorry you think so, but if that’s the case we can compare our different opinions.”
She cringed at the memory of Max Rinaldi mocking her reading choice, and said, “No, I can’t talk about books while thinking about dancing.” She cast around for a change of subject. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Didn’t Caspian tell you that you could skip the dance and go to bed?”
Xavier scowled. “I did not expect to be here, either. My opinion of this whole affair is unchanged.”
“Then why did you come?”
“I find, Miss Bowen, that I am quite unable to stay away from you.” He gripped her hand tighter.
Vivian flushed and said nothing.
When the dance ended, Xavier bowed to her and parted in silence. Vivian stared after him in confusion. He seemed so cold to her one moment and drawn to her the next. Why bother attending the ball if he had no intention of marrying a Red Mother? And why dance with her and then barely speak to her?
Wim again claimed a dance with her. He held her stiffly in his arms with clammy fingers, and the way his artificial eye roamed in all directions made her shudder. “I am so pleased the Intelligence has brought us together.”
“Yes.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Xavier bow to Caspian and Delilah. He took Delilah’s hand and led her onto the dance floor.
“The other Red Mothers admire you, Miss Bowen. It would hearten everyone to see you be the first settled with an optimized match.”
They’d certainly admired her unauthorized trip to the soldier’s barracks. Is that what Wim meant? Did the Intelligence not approve of the taste of freedom she’d found or that she’d told the other women about it?
“What’s it like to speak directly to the Intelligence?” she asked.
Wim jerked his head back, as if surprised by the question. “An honor.”
“Is it really the exact same AI that was created nearly two hundred years ago by the tech billionaires that founded Mars?”
“It has improved itself with time, but, yes, it is an immortal being.”
“Wouldn’t it get, I don’t know, a little stale? Outdated? Why don’t you upgrade to a newer model?”
“Upgrade! My dear Miss Bowen, the Intelligence is a nearly perfect creation.”
Vivian couldn’t think of what to say to this ridiculous statement, so she remained quiet.
When the dance finished, Wim offered to take her for another.
When Vivian declined, he stayed stuck to her side, his sweaty hands stroking a silver augmentation embedded in his bald skull as he spoke to her in a never-ending monotone.
Vivian watched Xavier escort Delilah back to Caspian.
Delilah sparkled at all the attention, and Vivian felt a pang watching her sister turn her full charm onto Xavier.
A pang of what? Vivian shoved the concern away.
Wim, meanwhile, chattered away about how pleased the Intelligence would be at the success of the ball. Vivian listened with half an ear, making the occasional noise of interest.
“Vivian, darling,” Ivey’s voice interrupted Wim’s speech. “I am so pleased you could return to my humble home.” She turned her cynical smile upon Wim. “I hope you don’t mind me stealing away our Vivian, Reverend.”
Wim frowned at her. “Miss Bowen has no interest in a female partner, Miss Hayes.”
“I know. Such a tragedy for me.” She turned to Vivian and gestured lazily with one hand. “Vivian, have you seen the art on loan to the Hayes Estate for this occasion?”
Vivian allowed Ivey to lead her away out of the ballroom and down the quiet hall.
“You seemed in dire need of rescue,” Ivey murmured to her. “And I do think you’ll appreciate the gallery.”
In the wide hall of Hayes House, a series of paintings were mounted on easels. Couples strolled down the gallery, and Vivian caught the eye of Camille arm-in-arm with a handsome Martian with ebony skin and a deep purple cravat.
“Ivey!” The man gestured to one of the framed paintings. “Tell me where the devil you acquired this piece.”
Ivey’s smile turned genuine. “Theo, have you met Miss Vivian Bowen? Vivian, let me introduce you to Counselor Carpenter, one of the foremost patrons of the arts in Arcadia.”
Vivian spread her skirts in a curtsey.
“How do you do?” Theo said abruptly. “Ivey, this is Catenian work, is it not? How in blazes did you manage to get a hold of it?”
Vivian turned curiously to look at the painting. The large canvas depicted a lush garden with a riot of colorful tropical plants—under a pink Martian sky.
“On loan from Chancellor Hawk in an attempt to win my brother’s favor,” Ivey replied. “They want Caspian’s terraforming tech. You know his team has made impressive advancements in the last few years.”
Theo snorted. “If Catena wanted our tech, it shouldn’t have cut itself off from Arcadia quite so thoroughly.”
Camille let go of Theo’s arm and leaned closer to the green, orange, and yellow brush strokes. “It looks like home. Is this possible on Mars?” she asked in wonder.
“No,” Ivey and Theo said together.
Ivey pinched the bridge of her nose. “My brother’s terraforming project is developing techniques to create a greenhouse effect to warm the atmosphere of Mars,” she explained to Vivian and Camille.
“It doesn’t literally mean the planet will turn into a green jungle.
But they have grandiose dreams on Catena, and their new leader wants our research and technology. ”
“Caspian isn’t fool enough to consider it, is he?” Theo demanded. “He knows the Intelligence would never allow it.”
Ivey waved a hand airily. “Caspian is happy to take Catena’s art and string River Hawk along with vague promises. Don’t fret, Theo dear. This isn’t a Council matter yet.”
Theo frowned and seemed inclined to object until Camille fit her small hand to his bicep. “Another dance, Mr. Carpenter?”
He looked down at her, and his features smoothed. “Of course, my lady.” He inclined his head to Ivey and Vivian and allowed himself to be dragged away.
“Oh, she’s good.” Ivey’s eyes narrowed at the couple’s retreating forms. “I can never get Theo to let a subject go, no matter how much I bat my eyes.”
“They’ve bonded over jazz,” Vivian told her.
“And you, Vivian, how are you fairing?”
Vivian shrugged evasively. “Fine.”
Ivey regarded her gently. “X isn’t going to make you an offer. I hope you realize that.”
Vivian’s stomach lurched. “But he might make you one?”
“Perhaps. In time.”
“I do have some dignity, you know. I’m not going to pine over a man who isn’t interested in me.”
“I never said he wasn’t interested in you. But he will never marry you.”
Vivian tried to ignore the somersaults in her belly. “Show me around the gallery, will you?” As they perused the space, she tried to allow the paintings to replace thoughts of Xavier’s parting words.
I find, Miss Bowen, that I am quite unable to stay away from you.