Lady In Satin

It was late evening when I arrived at the mansion. Like many in this town it was wrought with wonderful architecture and adornments, such as the carvings of lions that graced the stairs leading up to the main doors and within the foyer, the naked angels of stone that pranced in a frozen frolic. Despite its beauty I could never stand places like this, particularly when those who owned them were not at all worthy of their possession. The owners of this house are nameless, known only by my mother who insisted that I take her to the party so that I might, or rather she might, find a lady suitable enough for me to propose to.

Unfortunately for mother, I had no intention of marriage at the present moment; a man of only twenty years I had plans of study and adventure rather than the drab, domestic lives that most people find themselves trapped in. Still my mother would not have it, which was why we stood in the entrance to the hall, me in my dark suit of black and her in a deep blue dress and an ugly animal scarf wrapped around her neck. She greeted our host and hostess before introducing them to me, not that I paid much heed, something that the hosts reciprocated. They were too busy passing casual chatter with mother, laughing and joking in high, false pitches that irked me somewhat.

Quietly, I slid away from mother's side and grabbed myself a fancy glass of wine, the only beverage served aside from champagne. I would have preferred a beer but sadly my kind of people seem to have never heard of the drink. Already quite weary I looked around to see if there were any interesting looking guests. Sometimes I am lucky; I may find myself in the company of a man of my father's age and therefore old enough to have participated in the war. These men always had great tales to tell of those days that these people seem to have forgotten all about now; I myself was merely a boy when the second world war began, too young to fight and therefore sent into the country with my dear sister to live with a rather nice family in a great farmhouse.

Those were the only days of our lives where we ever truly had a taste for working life and perhaps the reasons why my sister and I are so different from our pampered parents. We spent numerous days with the other English children, cleaning the barns on the farm, feeding the animals or playing war games of out own on the fields until dusk. At the end of the war we returned home and not long after did my parents decide to move to New York. Fortunately for my sister, three years my senior, she was able to steal away from that fate and find herself travelling across foreign landscapes. I often receive post cards from her but she never returns home and I do not blame her for it. When I get the chance, I shall follow in her footsteps. If I get the chance that is, for my mother and father keep a very tight grasp over the life of their only son and heir.

Returning to the ball, I soon discovered that no one interesting was about and especially no one who worked for a living. Only heirs and heiresses of great fortunes or greedy bankers or film makers and their wives could be found at extravagant parties such as this. The only interesting ones like the war heroes and the occasional eccentric were nowhere to be seen that evening. Nevertheless, as I downed my third glass of wine I noticed a different kind of person altogether, making her entry and at once my boredom was elevated to wonder.

A beautiful dress of lilac satin hung around this woman's slight, alluring figure as she glided in through the hallway. Her head was held high, her dark lips forming a small pout as she tried not to look irritated by the people around her. Her skin too was dark, making her even more outstanding amidst the otherwise entirely pale skinned gathering. I think perhaps it may have been the first time I ever saw a woman of her race at one of these parties who wasn't upon the stage entertaining, but this woman was certainly not hired entertainment and if she was, our hosts could not have afforded her. Most people were indifferent to the woman, though she did attain the odd stair and whisper whilst she came my way. I felt my stomach flutter with nerves, a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time and never at these events, but she was as cool as the ice melting in my wine.