"Mister Castor, Mister Castor and Miss Smith." The music, dancing, laughter and chatting in the room ceased. Immediately, chastising looks directed their way. Benjamin enclosed his hand around Darianne's for support. She squeezed his hand gently in gratitude. "Harold! Benjamin!" Mr. Martell greeted heartily, approaching the trio. "Thank goodness, you've arrived! I was beginning to worry you wouldn't show!" He shook each man's hand energetically, an act which forced them to remove both their grips on Darianne. "And Miss Smith!" he addressed with equivalent zeal. "Miss Smith! Miss Smith! Miss Smith! Such an honour to be the host for your first ball! I pray this one will be your most enjoyable!" He gripped unto her shoulders, pulling her in for an embrace.
When he pulled back, the music slowly resumed. "Come," he commanded. "Let me introduce you to a few of my specially invited guests!" Mr. Martell was a man in his early sixties- not the oldest man in the town, but by far the most respected. He was average height, but stocky in weight. He had spent half of his life as one of London's best lawyers, and had decided to retire in the country. Ever since he had arrived fifteen years ago, he had taken a liking to Darianne, having no children of his own. "This here, is Lady Thibault," he introduced. The slender woman was around his age, adorned in a purple and white robe a l'angaise. Her hair was pulled upward with tight curls. Not a strand was out of place. She was thin, but not wiry, and though her face appeared coarse, her eyes showed a hint of warmth.
"Lady Thibault, meet Mister Harold Castor and Mister Benjamin Castor. They recently lost their sister, Elizabeth Castor, to whom this ball is for." "It's a pleasure to meet you both," Lady Thibault addressed, curtseying towards the brothers, who bowed in return. "And this here is Miss Smith, who I told you about," Mr. Martell informed, steering Darianne into the older woman's direction. She scrutinized her for a moment. "I see," she finally said. "Alors, J'apprends vous parlez français?" The people in their small group turned to Darianne, inquisitive to know how she'd answer. "Oui," Darianne replied. Lady Thibault raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Dire quelque chose pour moi, et ne pas essayer d'être intelligent. Je me suis entretenu français depuis que je suis bébé." "Que voulez-vous que je vous dire?" Darianne inquired. Benjamin and Harold stepped back, allowing both ladies enough space to talk comfortably.
"Parlez-moi de vous," Lady Thibault ordered. "Eh bien, je suis né de deux parents blancs, mais d'autres peuvent être en désaccord," Darianne began. "Puis, quand ma mère est morte et mon père a été rappelé sur le terrain m'a envoyé pour vivre avec les Castors. Elizabeth était mon meilleur ami depuis." The older woman smiled. "You, my dear," she said in English, drawing the attention of those around them, "must come visit me when I return to France." Darianne bowed in reply and followed a smiling Mr. Martell alongside the Castor brothers as he carried them to meet his other guests. "What did Lady Thibault ask you?" Harold inquired when the trio finally broke away from the others. "She just asked me about myself," Darianne explained, as a young man approached them.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Castor, himself," the young blonde said. Benjamin couldn't believe his eyes. "Philip!" He exclaimed. "What are you doing here!?" "A friend of mine told me about this ball that they were going to in your sister's honour, and I thought I'd best tag along. I'm a bit jet-lagged from the constant travelling from London, but I'm well enough for a ball." "Whenever are you not?" Benjamin joked. Harold cleared his throat, reminding him of his brother and Darianne's presence. "Oh! Philip, meet my brother, Harold Castor, and a friend of the family, Lady Darianne Smith. Harold, Dari, this is Philip Welsh. He was my roommate when I was studying Law in London." Harold and Darianne bowed, but Philip laughed, his voice filled with boyish amusement.
"Darianne Smith?" he enquired, turning to Benjamin with mischievous eyes. "Is this the girl whose name you-" "Alright, that's enough!" Benjamin interrupted, clamping his hands over his friend's mouth before shoving the laughing man away. "Goodbye, Philip!" he called out to the blonde, who only shook his head and walked on, the grin never leaving his face. "What was that about?" Darianne inquired, both her and Harold looking to Benjamin with questioning eyes." Nothing," he replied hastily, unable to conceal the heat in his face. "Mr. Benjamin Castor, are you blushing?" Darianne teased. "No, I'm not," he replied, too quickly to be convincing.
