The Rivals

A Ton of Murmurs

Abigail contemplated the floor from one of the balconies surrounding it. She leant against a cool, marble pillar and watched the various coloured skirts and cravats float and swish in amongst the throngs of socialites and wondered if anyone had seen her. She had stood here for several minutes now, just watching the dancers and the overbearing mothers, thinking.

Where is he?

Her eyes ached from watching the swarm below, attempting to pick out a diamond amongst a hill of ants. Still, his head of dark curls was nowhere to be seen. She sighed and gently drummed her fingers against the polished column, allowing the ringlets that had escaped from her up-do, due to the heat, to fall across her vision.

She wondered if perhaps he had felt some remorse. Or rather, she hoped he had.

~~~~~

Matthew looked about at the ballroom. The heat clambered up his neck and scratched at the crown of his head like an angry beast. This was as close as it could be to his worse nightmare. 

"Toyner!" Matthew looked behind him, from whence the voice came, and found himself face-to-face with a man he never thought he'd see again. 

"McFadden!" he cried and embraced the wall of muscle and sun blemished skin. "God, how are you?"

A booming laugh escaped the man and he clapped his hand on Matthew's shoulder. 

"I've never been better, old friend! America is wonderland of women and I've only had my slice!" he laughed once more and Matthew smirked to himself. His bulky, best friend of twenty years had always had his fingers in any pie that boasted an array women and now in his late twenties the man was in his prime and hungry for more. His tall, wide frame demanded attention and admiration, a pair of sparkling, dark eyes rested in sunken sockets and beside thick eyebrows on browned skin. He looked radiant. 

"When are you going back?" 

"Next month, Pennsylvania is next on my list and it just so happens to be the land of whores! What a merry time I shall have! You should come with me, escape that death trap of a job, you're in?" Matthew flushed slightly, his job was his pride and joy but he could not expect Albert McFadden to understand such a sentimental matter. 

"I wish I could but duty calls" Albert rolled his eyes and in an odd fashion, his stomach dropped. He had always sought his friends approval and still to this day, he felt he could never be he friend Albert deserved. 

"Well then at least let me introduce you to a woman here? I have one in mind, let me find her and I'll be right back" Albert gave Matthew one last look of amusement before disappearing into the throng of people. 

Matthew took this brief moment of solitude on the outskirts of the ballroom to take in his company. a little to the left of him sat three elderly women who had not escaped his notice as they kept looking toward him and talking among themselves, no doubt recognizing the man who turned down their ghastly daughters. He smirked thinking how many older women he had made enemies of due to his inability to choose a wife.

His mother was top of this list. 

To his right stood a man with an odd shade of red hair, his hair styled in a strange high turned up fringe and a higher collar than Matthew's limited sense of fashion thought to be appropriate. He seemed on edge and Matthew wondered if he was just as uncomfortable as he was but then a small head appeared from beside him and Matthew understood instantly. 

She was pretty, long eye-lashes and big, brown eyes framed by pretty, black ringlets but her hands were wandering and shameless and her face preening and desperate. No doubt she had been tasked with seducing a fair mate and this poor man had been the easiest target. The girl looked no older than twenty and yet she was bold with her words judging by the blush on the man's face. And yet, he seemed no more interested in her than the bunch of flowers in a vase on a table, just beside them. 

Matthew could not decide who he felt more sorry for until he spotted Albert walking towards him, a nameless blonde on his arm. He felt the most sorry for himself. 

"Matthew! Meet Helen Beaufort, she is a dear friend of mine for near on three years" Matthew smiled aimiably in her direction and she beamed back, a set of pearly white teeth behind a pair of plump, rosy lips. He decided she was the most promising woman in the room if he was to get to know any one of them. 

"It's lovely to meet you Madam, I confess, I have not heard of your family around this area?" 

"Oh no, we are from France would you believe it or not, my mother has a grand old time lording that about! Praise God that we do not go to the war with them otherwise I would be quite without favour" she replied with a wink. Matthew chuckled but her voice had taken him by surprise; there was no hint of a distinguishable accent, not even a standard English. She was made of a blend of nationalities, he could see it in her face. 

"Indeed, damn any war that damages a lady's name!" he replied and found that her smile did indeed get wider. She took his arm and Matthew noticed that Albert had disappeared once more. 

"He does that a lot, I can imagine he has gone to find his prize for the night" 

"God help her" Helen let out peals of laughter and matthew found himself joining her; she had an infectiously happy spirit. 

"Ley us just hope he is not so tastless as to choose the poor Lady Blair!" Matthew frowned, finding himself unable to agree with her as the woman in question was completely obselete from his memory. Helen looked at the confusion on his face and smirked, "My, my... Albert was right when he said you had been away from society for too long!" 

Matthew could not bring himself to blush, "Then enlighten me" 

"Well she is from a long line of rather rich women, all of whom, have found themselves widowers after a mysterious death of the husband! Ghastly business. awfully bloody, but scandelous nonetheless and so we never hear the end of it. Her most recent conquest, who society - including myself - believed she would marry but alas, apparently an argument between the two last night rendered them separate!" 

"And who was the poor man?" 

"Why! None other than the recently deceased Edmund Carr! The sad business really though is that no one seems to hav ethe heart to tell her he's dead!" Matthew stopped their amble and stared down hard at the young woman. 

"Where is she?" Helen looked a little taken aback.

"A scandal chaser, sir?" when Matthew's expression did not flicker, she seemed to decide against any further quips. "She's on the balconies, Sir." Helen dipped her head and walked back into the crowd but Matthew did not watch her, instead, his eyes scanned the balconies that hung over the ballroom floor. In the second on the left sat a slender, lonely looking figure in a plum coloured gown. Her dark curls hung about her face like limp curtains and Matthew now understood how no one had said anything of Edmund; she looked like a woman taken over by death. 

He almost hesitated in climbing the stairs, but she was the last person to see him alive and was now, a suspect.