The Meridian Gamble (28 page)

Mrs. Price-Pearce seems equally
confused, and probes us for an answer.

“Caroline, how very beautiful you
look. I don’t think that we’ve ever seen you looking quite so stunning before,”
she says.

“Like a flower that surprises one
with an early bloom,” Mrs. Lawlor says. And the two women cannot not help but
to share a knowing smile between them.

“I suspect this evening shall have
several surprises. And I do hope they are all to your liking.”

The ladies smile at Mother, but
their expressions are guarded, as they are still unsure as to what they should
think.

“By the way, I will be having a tea
party later in the month. It would be so lovely if you both could attend,”
Mother says.

“I will have to check my schedule
when the invitation arrives.”

“They will be going out this week,”
Mother says. “In fact, I shall send yours out first, to make sure the date
suits you. Because I would most certainly not like to see my social standing
plummet from excluding such important friends. That would be a very sad fate
for one, indeed.”

She turns to us.

“Come girls, let us get some
refreshments.”

Mrs. Lawlor and Mrs. Price-Pearce
give us cold stares as we walk away, and Mrs. Lawlor glares at us more harshly
of the two, no doubt understanding Mother’s subtle suggestion that she has made
a grave error in shunning us.

We approach a large punch bowl and
wait to be served drinks. Marjorie wanders off, to talk with one of her
friends, with Madeline in tow. And Mother goes to address one of her other
companions, Mrs. Arbogash, a woman whose attitude is always friendly to all, no
matter the tide of malicious gossip. And suddenly, I find myself alone, for a
brief moment.

Already, I can tell that interest
in my appearance has spread through the room like a fire. I can see Marjorie
standing with her friends, and they are looking over at me, whispering. And
some of my own friends go to join them. And my two sisters seem to be the
center of attention. They look to me with malicious smiles, and my heart sinks.
I cannot help but to wonder what Marjorie is saying to them, to protect her own
reputation. Actually, I can, and I pity her for not realizing that what I do is
to help us all.

Or perhaps I am the foolish one,
for placing such faith in my own lies.

A voice comes from behind me, far
too close to my ear, and I realize someone is addressing me.

“I thought you were Marjorie, for a
moment.”

It is Gregory Lawlor, and I am
surprised that he wishes to speak with me. He practically whispers in my ear,
which makes me uncomfortable. Gregory has never taken notice of me before, and
it seems odd that he does so now.

“I am most certainly not Marjorie,”
I say coldly.

“No, you are not. And that might be
a very good thing,” he says, with a smile that turns my stomach. In fact, his
closeness and the way he whispered in my ear all sicken me, and I find myself
wishing Gregory Lawlor would go away.

I have never liked him. Certainly,
he is handsome enough, but I could never tell why Marjorie was so enraptured of
him. Though he is tall and has brown hair which is thick, I have always
detected a certain pallid tone to his skin, which I find unappealing. It makes
him seem sickly and weak, or at the very least suggests that he would produce
inferior progeny. Even worse, he is callous and arrogant, but perhaps that is
the common bond he shares with my sister.

He is definitely not Roland.

“Perhaps you will grant me the
honor of a dance this evening?”

“I most certainly will not! I
consider that request most inappropriate,” I say, under my breath.

But Gregory Lawlor only laughs.

“It most certainly is not!” he says
in mock horror, ridiculing me. “We are neither of us married. And we should
take the opportunity to enjoy each other’s company while we can, before we are
engaged. Which might be happening quite soon for both of us. In fact, this
might be our last chance.”

He looks me up and down, examining
my dress. Gregory Lawlor leans closer, in a most unwelcome way.

“At least in such a public place,”
he says, grinning.

I am about to turn to find Mother
or Father, but I need not look far, as miraculously, I am saved. Roland is
suddenly there, at his side, and it comes as a great relief. He is like my
personal angel, radiating a protective light around me.

“I’m afraid all of this lady’s
dances are reserved for me,” Roland said. “And that is the way it will be from
now on.”

Gregory Lawlor looks almost angry
at being interrupted. But Roland cuts an impressive figure with his height and
strong frame, towering above him. And he looks far more handsome in his black
suit and tails than Gregory does. I am immediately dazzled by his blue eyes and
thick blonde hair, a fact which Gregory seems to take note of, with irritation.
Mr. Lawlor realizes he no longer exists to me, though I am conscious enough of
his presence to know he is more than a bit curious as to who Roland is.

“We have not been formally
introduced,” Roland says, with a small bow. “I am Roland Bennett.”

“Gregory Lawlor,” he says, shaking
Roland’s hand. “And how exactly are you related to Caroline?”

“You will find that out soon
enough, my friend,” Roland says. “I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise. But in
the meantime, why don’t you go seek out her sister, Marjorie? I’m sure she
would appreciate a kind word from you on this evening. And I would very much
hate to see such a beautiful lady disappointed.”

Roland addresses Gregory in a
strange way. He puts his hand on the cad’s shoulder, and almost gives him a
command. Gregory seems annoyed at first, for a brief flashing moment. He is not
one to take orders from another man. But suddenly, his look changes to one of
great interest, as though Roland’s suggestion is the most fascinating of
concepts.

“Marjorie is here? I had no idea.
I’d thought perhaps she was sick. If you would excuse me, I would love to go
say hello.”

Gregory bows and slinks away, and a
sense of joy overcomes me, at no longer having to be near him. And even though
I can still feel Marjorie staring daggers at me from across the room, which is
probably worse now that she has seen me talking with Gregory, I am thrilled to
have Roland here with me again. And I am fascinated by the skill he had in
dealing with Gregory, his impressive influence over others.

But I shouldn’t be surprised. I,
too, am under his spell.

“I’m so glad to see you,” I say. “I
feel it has been ages since we were last together.”

“Do not worry. The time will come
soon enough when we are together, forever.”

Forever. Again, he uses that word,
giving it a certain punctuation which makes it stand out in a somewhat alarming
way. It once more conjures images of fairytales in my mind, and the idea of
spending an eternity with Roland is certainly not without its appeal.

“It’s odd. Even though this is a
party, I feel more that I am in a pool, surrounded by piranhas.”

“Worry not about piranhas, or any
other such scaly creatures,” he says, leaning in, almost speaking in a whisper.
“I will protect you from them all. And I will never falter in that duty.”

I almost feel that he is referring
to Father, and the trouble he has gotten himself into of late, with his
company’s finances. And it offends me, for just a moment. But the
unpleasantness is easy to forget, because Roland is right. That is exactly how
he makes me feel, protected from all the horrors of the world. And suddenly,
the Admiral’s Ball feels like a party again, and I am happy to be exactly where
I am.

Before we can say anything more,
Father steps out from the group of men he was conversing with across the room.
And he begins tapping the glass from which he is drinking, a tumbler filled
with an amber liquid which I’m sure is strong. The music stops, and all the
conversations subside.

Roland puts his hand on my back,
gently, and moves me forward to the periphery of the crowd, maneuvering us so
we can better hear Father’s words.

“I would like to make a short
announcement, if I may be so bold as to interrupt the festivities,” Father
says. “I am a man of few words, and I will get right to the point. Tonight, my
wife and I take great pleasure in announcing the engagement of our daughter,
Miss Caroline Caldwell to Mr. Roland Bennett. We are very pleased to welcome
Mr. Bennett into our family, and hope for a long and prosperous union between
them.”

“Congratulations,” one of Father’s
friends says, quite loudly. And polite applause fill the chamber.

Mother looks around with a smile on
her face, making sure to connect her eyes with other matrons in the room, the
ones who hold the greatest sway amongst their peers. It is her way of letting
them know that this union is one that pleases her, that will ensure her
continued presence in London society, and that whatever rumors they heard about
misfortunes befalling the Caldwell family are just that, rumors, and unfounded
ones. And the women she stares down look at Roland in turn with interest and a
desire to find out who he is, to determine if there is some way they can pull
us apart. Which will never happen.

Another man steps forward, and I
recognize him as Philippa Price-Pearce’s father, though he is difficult to
remember as his features are quite bland. Sadly, the thinning grey hair on his
head is his only distinctive trait, the one that reminds me of who he is.

He, too, raises his glass.

“I would also like to make an
announcement, if I may,” he says, with a trembling voice.

But his words are less welcome than
Father’s, as Mr. Price-Pearce does not have as distinguished a reputation. It
is only in the past several years that his family has been able to encroach
upon high society. But, nonetheless, the people in the room listen politely.

“My family also has an engagement
to celebrate. Of our lovely daughter, Philippa, to Mr. Gregory Lawlor.”

The applause rise up again, and to
my surprise, are perhaps a bit more loud. It shouldn’t surprise me, as the
Lawlor family is well-known in our circles, and I am glad to have the attention
taken away from me. But I cannot help but to wonder for a moment if the people
clapping their hands are mocking Gregory just a bit, because he now stands next
to Philippa with an uncomfortable look on his face. One might think he had been
dragged there, which I suspect is not far from the truth.

There is a financial element within
his union, not unlike my own.

But I’m sure he considers Philippa
to be something less than a prize within his own mind. She is a plain girl with
a figure wider than Marjorie’s by a good half, and brown hair that is somewhere
between the colors of wet sand and mud. And though she wears a dress more
colorful than Marjorie’s, somehow Philippa makes it look like it came from a
maid’s wardrobe. And I cannot help but to laugh inside, because I know Gregory
is mortified.

And my poor sister begins to sob, I
can see it from across the room. Though Gregory doesn’t notice, Marjorie
quickly leaves, and rushes out to the darkness of the gardens, where no one can
see her cry.

A light music begins to play, and
Roland turns to me.

“Would you care to dance?”

And I take his hand.

I am usually not terribly light on
my feet, though I have, of course, learned to dance competently in my classes.
But in Roland’s arms, I feel transformed. We move to the center of the dance
floor, and I somehow spin about, effortlessly. And it feels magical, I can tell
all eyes are fixed on us. Soon, Gregory comes with Philippa, who looks
absolutely giddy. He moves stiffly, and as they dance about, others join in.

The images in the room rush by my
eyes at a dizzying pace, yet for some reason, something catches my attention. A
young man stands against the wall, behind the refreshments. And it is strange
to me that I am able to make note of him when everything else seems a blur.

As we pass around the dance floor
once more, I spot him again. And it troubles me, somehow, because I know he is
watching us with a degree of interest the rest of the crowd doesn’t show. Or
perhaps, it is because I feel that his attention is focused on me.

The music stops, and we applaud
politely. And luckily, from where I am standing, I can view the young man from
the corner of my eye.

He is striking, or at least my
friends would think so, with dark hair and a devilish grin. And somehow, even
from the distance between us, I can see he has green eyes that are piercing,
not unlike Roland’s. And it bothers me, because I know I have seen him
somewhere before, though I cannot remember where.

Ever perceptive, Roland notices my
distraction.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

I panic. Without understanding why,
I lie to him.

“It’s my sister. It is difficult
for me to enjoy myself completely in this joyous moment, when I know she is
distressed.”

“Is it just her jealousy, to see
you engaged before she is?”

Gregory and Philippa are far enough
away that they will not overhear what I have to say. I speak softly, so that
only Roland will hear.

I lean in, just a bit closer to
him.

“The one she loves has now been
promised to another.”

“It matters not,” he says, with a
smile. “Soon enough, all of the eligible bachelors in London will be flocking
to her, seeking out her hand in marriage.”

“The heart wants what it wants. I
fear she will never be content with another. And it makes me saddened, to see
her so unhappy.”

“And that is something I simply
cannot have,” Roland says, with a knowing smile. “But fear not, things might
still turn out in a way that will please Marjorie. And for now, let us see if
we can at least help her to enjoy the night.”