Serenity

The Terrace

As she arrived at the Widener's Ball the following evening, escorted by Cal, Rose was adorned in navy blue and diamonds, a vision of elegance. Yet, beneath the sparkle, she felt a weight, a sense of being trapped in her own life. Ruth and Elizabeth, resplendent in shades of mauve and purple, were the picture of grace in the crowded ballroom. But for Rose, the crush of people felt suffocating, a reminder of the societal expectations that were slowly draining the life out of her, leaving her like a wilting flower, once vibrant and reaching for the sun, now left to wither and be swept away by the winds of duty.

Rose caught a champagne flute from a passing waiter and immediately sipped it, wishing she could gulp the entire thing. As soon as she arrived, she kept her eyes on the exit to find the terrace leading out into the night's air, where she could hear nothing but her thoughts and the echo of her heart.

Finger food was served on salvers, as servers, adorned in white and black, carried full and empty trays about the room, to and from a kitchen through small double entrance doors on the far side of the guest hall. The navy lace of her dress was cut low across the breasts and shoulders as she sashayed about the lovely space, just nodding and accepting the compliments bestowed upon her. Her smile was outwardly genuine, her gothic dark red lips turned up in response to the chatter, and then she pressed a light air kiss on the cheeks of many.

"We must dance," Cal ordered, his hand upon her wrist as though she were a child about to be a flight risk. ''We have barely communicated all evening, people will think that we are no longer acquainted.''

"Of course."

The air was still awkward between them after what had transpired, but somehow, she had managed to put it aside and attempt to have this evening as a family, with the strains of life slowly sinking in. Elizabeth was the only one who went about life as gleefully as normal, utterly oblivious to the turmoil and of that much she was glad. Since her cotillion, she had been quite the social butterfly, flitting about town with new acquaintances, and if she didn't love her sister so dearly, she might have been slightly jealous. Cal, her fiancé, was a man of high society, and their engagement was more of a strategic alliance than a love match.

Cal extended his hand to her, and she didn't refuse, knowing how he disliked it. Her mood should lift, she thought as she made her way to the dance floor, her skirts swishing around her legs and her shoes clacking against the thick wooden floor. Inside, her stomach was still. Rose should feel a shudder of something—a flicker. Cal was handsome. His beauty was masculine yet refined. His dinner jacket was made of velvet, the material that a woman should want to run her hands over, but Rose didn't. She held out his hand as he crossed the dance floor to take her dainty hand. They were smoother than hers. Not an ounce of labour had he done in his life. They worked together so that the process was structured from start to finish. It was a lively dance that Rose moved to mechanically, wonderfully, and her eyes weren't on her fiancé but on the floor. On the table. To the chandeliers ahead, Elizabeth was moving out towards the terrace, alone at a fast pace, probably hoping no one would notice her presence was gone. The weight of her engagement, the lack of love, and the societal expectations were a heavy burden on her, and she struggled to find joy in the evening.

''You look distracted.''

''Oh, no, I am still exhausted. Elizabeth and I were preparing for this evening most of the day.'' Rose feigned a smile, and his eyes roved her cleavage. ''Shall we sit after this dance?''

''No, we must have another.'' Cal held her, his grip firm and guiding. It was as though she was under his tutelage and not his spell. ''As many as we can manage this evening.'' Yes, to keep up appearances, she thought.

''I should like to sit down afterwards.''

'Truly, after one dance?''

''Yes, you have claimed every other dance. Now until,'' she almost choked on the last word, ''forever. But it seemed to please him that she thought that way.