Chapter 74 The Banquet

Chapter 74 The Banquet
Beatrice

My scalp ached and my neck had gone stiff from sitting still for so long, by the time Mary set down the last pin,

Mary circled me three times, her chin tilted, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She tugged at a loose curl, smoothed the silk at my shoulder, then stepped back with a satisfied nod.

The midnight blue gown fit like it had been sewn onto my bones. High neckline. Long sleeves. The silk caught the candlelight and held it, deep and rich, the color of a sky that had forgotten it was supposed to be black.

"You look beautiful," Julia said when I finally descended the stairs.

"You look terrified," I replied.

"I am terrified. Mrs. Harcourt's son will be there. He asked me to dance at the last gathering and I stepped on his foot twice."

"Then perhaps decline this time."

"I cannot. Mother has already promised."

Abel waited at the bottom of the stairs in a deep navy coat, his waistcoat lined with silver thread. His face carried that composed blankness I had stopped trying to read.

He looked at me for a moment longer than usual.

"You look well," he said.

"Thank you."

"Mother will be pleased."

His mouth twitched. The closest thing to a smile I had seen from him in days.

Lady Odessa gathered us in the entrance hall before we climbed into the carriages. She stood with her hands folded and her gaze sharp, reciting names from memory as though she had been rehearsing us for war.

"Mrs. Harcourt first. Then her sister. Then Lady Whitmore, though she is insufferable and you need only nod. Avoid Mrs. Pemberton if possible."

"I doubt she will allow me to avoid her," I said.

"Then endure her. Briefly."

She turned to Julia. "And you will dance with whomever asks. No excuses. No theatrical refusals."

The carriages waited outside. Lady Odessa took the largest one with Julia. Abel and I climbed into the second. I settled beside the window, expecting a quiet ride.

Then Elwin stepped in.

He sat across from us, his coat dark green, his hair swept back. He nodded once at Abel. Abel nodded back. Neither spoke.

The carriage lurched forward.

The silence between the two brothers was not hostile. It was worse. It was empty. The silence of two men who had shared a childhood and a name and nothing else. Abel stared out the window. Elwin looked at his hands. Neither made any attempt to bridge the space between them.

I sat between them like a woman caught in a current, aware of both and acknowledged by neither.
Something about the quiet told me this was not unusual.

The Harcourt estate appeared through the trees. Columns lined the front. Lanterns hung from every branch. Carriages filled the circular drive, their occupants emerging in waves of silk and perfume.

We stepped out into the light and noise.

Mrs. Harcourt found us within seconds.

"Odessa, darling." She embraced Lady Odessa with genuine warmth, both women smiling in a way that did not carry the usual blades. They were friends. Real ones. The kind who liked each other well enough to mean it. "And the full family. How wonderful."

She was tall with a sharp face softened by a ready smile. Her gown was crimson. Her jewels were tasteful. She turned to me next.

"And Mrs. Fitzgerald. How lovely. We have heard so much about you."

"Thank you for having us," I said.

"Of course, of course." She turned to Lady Odessa, her voice lowering. "Odessa, I was so sorry to hear about Henry's brother. Such a loss. How are you holding up?"

Lady Odessa's expression did not waver. "We carry on, Margaret. As we always do."

"Of course you do. You always were the strongest woman I knew."

The exchange was brief. Genuine. Free of the hunger I had come to expect from women like Mrs. Pemberton.

The ballroom opened before us. Crystal chandeliers. A string quartet. A floor already filling with couples. The music carried that particular strain of effort that came from musicians who were talented enough to know they were playing for people who were not truly listening.

I moved through the crowd with Abel at my side. He introduced me where needed. I smiled. I curtsied. I answered the same questions I had answered a hundred times before.

How is married life?

When might we expect happy news?

Each question landed like a small, polished stone dropped onto my chest. I smiled through all of them.

Mrs. Pemberton appeared before I could escape.

"Beatrice, dear. You look lovely. That gown does wonders for your complexion. Blue is kind to women who cannot wear brighter shades."

"Thank you, Mrs. Pemberton."

"And Abel? Is he here tonight?"

"Somewhere in the crowd."

"Avoiding the dancing, I imagine." She laughed her thin, sharp laugh. "He never did care for balls. Even as a boy. Such a quiet nature."

Her eyes moved over me with that hunger she carried for other people's discomfort.

"I heard your sister has still not been found," she said, her voice dropping. "Such a worry for your poor parents. Though I suppose they have you to comfort them. A married daughter is some consolation, is it not?"

"My parents are well, thank you."

"I am sure they are. I am sure they are."

She patted my arm and moved on, leaving the familiar residue of her insincerity on my skin.

I found a corner near the terrace doors and stood there for a moment, the champagne in my hand growing warm. The crowd pressed in from every side. The music was too loud.

I spotted Abel across the room and considered walking to him. We could stand together. Pretend. The way we always did.

I took two steps toward him and stopped.

He was smiling. At a man. A young man with light hair and a loose collar, leaning slightly too close, laughing at something Abel had said. Abel's hand rested on the man's arm. Light. Familiar. The kind of touch that belonged to private rooms, not public ballrooms.

My heart sank.

It was not the same man from the wedding night. A different one. A new one. And Abel did not seem to care who saw.

That was why people knew. That was why the family whispered. That was why Lady Odessa looked at him the way she did. He did it everywhere. With anyone. As though the shame he carried was something he had decided to wear openly, and the rest of us were simply expected to bear it alongside him.

Including me. I turned away.

"You look like you are trying to disappear."

I turned. Elwin stood beside me, a glass of wine in his hand, his face carrying that calm warmth I had felt against my skin in the dark.

"Not hiding," I said. "Just trying to get away from the crowd."

He studied me for a moment. Saw something in my face. 

"Meet me on the balcony," he said. "In five minutes."

Then he walked away.

I stood there, holding my warm champagne, telling myself it was a terrible idea. The balcony. In a house full of people. Where anyone could step outside and find us.

I looked around for Abel. He was still across the room, still smiling at the man, still oblivious to everything except whatever held his attention.

I looked for Julia. She was already on the dance floor, laughing, stepping on the poor Harcourt boy's feet with the cheerful abandon of someone who did not care about consequences.

Everyone had somewhere to be. Someone to talk to. A place in the room that fit them.

I did not fit anywhere. I set my glass on the ledge and walked toward the balcony doors.

The night air hit me first. A relief after the warmth and noise of the ballroom. The balcony was narrow, edged with stone, overlooking a garden that stretched silver under the moon.

Elwin stood at the far end, his back to me. He turned when he heard my footsteps.

"You came," he said.

"You asked."

He moved closer. The warmth of him reached me before his hand did. He did not touch me. Not here. But he stood close enough that I could feel the weight of his presence like a second skin.

"You are quiet tonight," he said.

"I am always quiet."

"Quieter than usual."

I did not answer. His closeness pulled at something I had been trying to keep still all evening.

"I received a letter from my mother," I said. "About Daphne."

His eyes held mine. "And?"

"They still have no word.

I looked up at him. The candlelight from inside caught the edge of his jaw.

"I know my sister," I said. "Better than they do. Daphne does not get taken. Daphne takes. Whatever she wants, whoever she wants, whenever she wants. She always has."

Something in my voice must have sounded wrong, because his expression shifted.

"You speak as though you are certain," he said.

"I am certain."

"Certain that whatever happened to Daphne, she chose it. Or she chose the person who made it happen." I paused. "Either way, she is not a victim."

The words sat between us. I heard them the way he must have heard them. Plain. Cold. A woman speaking of her missing sister with the certainty of someone who knew more than she was willing to say.

I caught myself.

"I do not want to talk about Daphne," I said. "I came here to enjoy the night. That is all."

He watched me for a moment longer. Then he nodded.

"Then enjoy it."

We stood in silence for a while. The music drifted out from the ballroom, muffled and softened by the glass doors. Below us, the garden lay quiet and silver.

"I should tell you something," Elwin said.

I turned to him. His face had changed. The warmth was still there, but something heavier had settled behind it. He opened his mouth.

"Mabe…"

We heard Footsteps. We both turned. The sound came from inside, near the doors. Someone was approaching.

Elwin moved at once. Stepped back. Put distance between us with the practiced ease of a man who had done this before.

"Go," he said, low enough that only I could hear. "Now. Walk left. I will follow after."

I did not argue.

I moved toward the left side of the balcony, smoothing my face into something composed, my heart hammering so loudly I was certain he could hear it.

The terrace door opened behind me.

A man stood in the doorway. Tall. Silver haired. Smiling with that polished, measured smile I had seen inside.

Mr. Aldous Harcourt.

"Mrs. Fitzgerald," he said. "Forgive me. I did not realize anyone was out here."

I forced my breathing to slow. "I was taking the air."

"It is a beautiful night for it." He stepped onto the balcony, his gaze moving past me to the empty space where Elwin had been standing a moment before. "The garden is best viewed from here. You should see it."

"Perhaps another time."

I moved toward the door. He did not stop me. He simply watched me go with that smile still fixed on his face, as though he had seen something I did not yet understand.

I stepped back inside and let the noise of the ballroom swallow me.