Burlington House, London, 1 July 1814
We are guests at that famous masquerade given by the members of Watier’s club to the cream of the English nobility and demi-monde in honour of peace between Great Britain and France.
This is a favourite scene of mine for two reasons. First, it is a pivotal scene in my Perception & Illusion. Lallie’s and Hugo’s marriage is in difficulties. Here, they dance together, although he does not know who she is.
Lallie hastily inspected the surrounding gentlemen. There was Luke Fitzmaurice, dressed as Hamlet with a skull-mask on a stick—poor Yorick, she assumed. He would be a good choice, but before she could gather her courage and beckon him to her, a sister Muse called imperiously, “Prince Hamlet,” and he immediately obeyed the summons.
Others had also chosen their partners and, panicking a little, Lallie sought Hugo’s eye. She did not know whether to be pleased or annoyed when a coquettish glance paired with a seductive curve of her finger brought him to her side.
“Clio,” he bowed. “I am honoured.”
It was different dancing with him when she didn’t have to conceal her reactions. The Grecian gown permitted only the lightest of stays and she shivered when his hands clasped her waist and she had to mirror the position for the jetées of the valse sauteuse. She felt his every movement beneath her fingers and had to resist the temptation to pull him closer to her. To her relief the music slowed and they could move again into more open attitudes, revolving about one another in seductive harmony.
Who was she? Although the fast waltz did not permit much conversation, her voice was tantalisingly familiar but Hugo could not match it to any woman of that height. She danced very lightly and followed his lead so exquisitely that he conjectured she had come from the ballet. If only he could waltz like this with Lallie. Then he felt guilty for thinking of his wife with another woman in his arms. He didn’t know what impulse had made him obey the unspoken invitation. Perhaps it was because the Muses’ entrance had provided a welcome distraction from his cheerless thoughts. He was sick of London, sick and tired of the Season, but dreading the return to Tamm. How would he and Lallie fare once back in its cold halls? If it were not for that cursed duel, he might have had some hope, but she still held herself aloof. He had never thought he would miss that little sigh of hers.
“Ah, Clio,” he said as they took a turn about the room afterwards, “how fortunate we would be if you only recorded our victories, but sadly our defeats and lack of judgement must also be noted in your scrolls.”
“If I were to remember only his victories, man would look continuously to the past, seeking to repeat it. But he may learn from his mistakes, sir, and perhaps even earn forgiveness or, at least, a second chance.”
“To err is human?” he asked seriously.
“Indeed, sir and are we not all called upon to forgive? But see, my sister comes for me.” As she spoke, another Muse took her hand and pulled her from him to disappear into the crowd.
“The carriage is outside if you still wish to leave early,” Thalia whispered.
“I do. And you?”
“I think I’ll stay awhile.”
This brief exchange between Lallie and Thalia is the other reason I love this scene. I simply had to know what happened when Thalia returned to the party. This led to The Murmur of Masks. Although written after Perception & Illusion, it was published first as my debut novel.
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