White Gate Heart

• Chapter Nineteen •

I felt my throat tighten and my tongue quickly grew parched. Without any thinking, I found myself practically glaring at him. How much audacity could he hold? A criminal on the run was bound to be caught in the midst of a party of soldiers and certainly generals.

The instruments began their orchestra before I was able to investigate into any further details. My eyes had most certainly fooled me, Mark was just a figment of imagination then and there. I had little water to drink recently and that could play tricks on one's mind.

As Well Hall struck up, Charles seemed concerned at my sudden distraction. His eyes followed my direction as I desperately searched for Mark through the shuffle of bodies. It was part of a relief to know that he was not there, but also a fright. My mind was uncontrollable in a terrifying way. First it was suffocating myself and now here I am wondering how I conjured up an imaginary man in the ballroom. I knew Mark was real, but he would not have the courage to waltz into a ballroom filled with men who are out to arrest him.

Charles seemed fascinated by my eyes. His pupils constantly locked on mine as we shuffled diagonally to meet each other, only to turn away at the last second. Shaking off the Mark occurrence, I gently offered my hand to Charles as we paired with two other partners to dance clockwise. The dance repeated itself continually and I felt myself growing tired for no particular reason. Thumping of the wooden floor seemed to be my lullaby, my gown swishing with each step. The merry country dance ended with a bow and curtsy and I felt Charles set his hand on my back, leaving a burning sensation upon my spine. He guided me towards his father, removing his hand from my back. It felt strange to feel his touch, but I felt no desire to ask for it again as most women would. Respectfully, his father kissed my hand lightly before greeting me.

"Miss Wills, it's always a pleasure to be in your presence. How was your trip to Boston?"

I felt interested in Mr. Poppenburg's sudden change of heart and light mood. At my abode, he had appeared almost grumpy and judgemental. Without thinking too deeper into him, I returned his greeting with a smile.

"I'm feeling grand. Although, our carriage axle has been broken in half today. I suppose we're all in a tussle over that. It's our neighbor's carriage anyways," I replied, adding a sweet tone to my voice in hopes of good and respectful impression.

"Oh dear. Surely it can be fixed soon before your neighbor discovers it?" Charles inquired gently.

"That information is known by our coachmen only. We're unsure." With no further discussion, I dismissed myself courteously as the desperate want and need for entertainment posed a threat. Charles seemed in want to follow after me, but I made no effort in allowing him to do so. I waved him off with a grin and stalked off quietly, checking to make sure no one pursued after me. The historical mystery of this building made me interested and curious. Venturing around was a need for me. The want to unlock all it's gothic hallways and passages increased. My shoes seemed to clash against the polished marble floor, creating a loud clicking sound. It was quite annoying and I felt like I'd easily be caught snooping through the halls.

On the right side of the ballroom doors, I leaned against the smooth and cold surface of the white walls. Grasping the white slippers, I pulled them off gently and held them in the two holds of my fingers. My feet slapped against the floors in a small whisper of noise, raising me to my tiptoes as I pattered off down the right side of the ballroom. Turning down the darkened hallway, I looked back one last time for any evidence of a servant or the host. My heart began pounding slightly harder than it should as I continued onwards, feeling slightly criminal.

Above my head hung immense portraits of previous citizens and house owners. All the men portrayed seemed to be focused and professional, showing no sign of joy or contentment. It bother me in a way. As that bothered me, so did the figure that there were no portraits of women. Surely these men had to have had daughters, wives, or even nieces to love and pride over. Without a woman's picture, the hallway seemed empty. An intricate styled window pooled in with moonlight every ten steps or so. IT gave me an eerie feeling to saunter down these halls, a part of me knowing that I wasn't welcome to see its hidden secrets. A locked door suddenly appeared as I turned another dark corner. A small candle lit up the floor before it, nearly luring me towards its flickering flame. The oak door seemed ancient, it's black metal frame appearing gothic and protective. Without thought, I found my hand seeking the door knob and turning as hard as I can. With no luck, the door remained in it's place; locked. Muffled voices floated within my ears, turning my wheels of utmost confusion. I patted my head firmly to rid of the odd voices, hopeful that I wasn't insane. They remained where they were, growing louder and nearly angrier as I stood by the door.