The Girl who hunted Night

Chapter 7

My heart pounded against my chest, beating and fluttering like the wings of a humming bird. My mouth felt dry and my hands shook; this was not because I was scared, no. Definitely not fear. That had long ago been abolished. It stemmed from the thought of failing my father, and put a great deal of pressure on me. 

My dress was finely crafted from expensive materials, and was a shimmering gold. The corset was shaped to fit my curves, and the bodice low cut. Though to my surprise, the material was light enough, despite being supported by a layering of underskirts, it was not at all difficult to move in. 

Emma (as she insisted I call her, like we were life long friends), sat across from me in the carriage, wearing a blue dress and her hair piled in curls, she spoke of how she wore huge, elaborate grey wigs at my age. I was grateful that seemed to have passed out of favour in societal fashion. 

The ball was to be held at the Laywood Manor house, situated opposite Kennsington Palace. Too say it was grand was an understatement. The front was a mass of windows and balconies, ivy climbing up the walls as if branching out to reach the heavens. The door was mahogany and swung wide open, revealing the candle lit halls. 

The coach man opened the carriage door and myself and Emma stepped out, our footsteps crunching on the gravel that paved the drive way. A large fountain sat in the middle of it, a beautiful woman coming up out of the water holding a sword, wearing a Greek helmet, "Athena, Goddess of War" whispered Emma when she saw me looking, "Lord Laywood always had a fascination with the Greeks"

I gave the statue another glance before walking inside. People were milling around, chattering to the background noise of merry making and an orchestra. We were ushered into a hall, and it opened out too be far bigger than I'd imagined possible in a London manor. "Dimensions were not a factor when designing this house" Emma said to me. 

Her statement was reflected in the dome above us, revealing the moon and stars shining through the glass. The ceiling was high and a large dance floor had been made in the middle, with people happily clapping along too the upbeat tune, twirling and spinning on the marble. Some clearly intoxicated, something I would never be able to do.

I saw other debutons like myself, many being presented into society for the first time and behaving foolishly; some girls were drinking far too much, others cajoling with rakish lords and sirs in quiet corners. Emma knew better than too interfere with my work, so after some brief introductions to people whose names I immediatly forgot, told me she was joining friends in the parlor and too join her later, it was all about keeping up appearances. 

Immediatly I began scanning the room for Petrov. My eyes darting over every corner of the room, but alas to no avail.

"Excuse me?" 

I turned and saw a gentleman dressed in navy, he was young looking, no more than twenty with a nervous face and twitching hands. I raised an eyebrow, and said, "Yes?"

"Your Miss Beatrice Everlyn, are you not?" 

I tried to hide my surprise at him knowing my name but it was difficult. "How do you know who I am?" I asked calmly.

"You are Emma Warden's niece, she has not stopped talking about you all evening, and you have only been here, by my estimation, half an hour"

"Goodness" I said, grinding my teeth in frustration. 

"I believe there is too be another dance next, would you like too?" 

"I'm very sorry Mr..."

"Arthur" he blurted, "Arthur Wayland" 

"I'm sorry Mr Wayland, I am rather thirsty, and would like some refreshment before I brave the dance floor" I said, not making any promises. In truth my dancing was very poor, I knew a few waltz's and minuets, but only vague memories from childhood. There was not much purpose in learning to dance in the eyes of the order.