“Goodness,” Cassandra said. “I presume it arrived empty.”
Lady Marksworth laughed at the remark and said, “I am glad you are in good spirits.”
“I cannot say in what spirits I am,” Cassandra said. “I will perhaps have a better idea after an hour or two. However, I decided that I ought not allow myself to be defeated. I have not done anything shameful. Shocking to some sensibilities, perhaps, but nothing truly shameful. I should not blush at anything my father or my aunt have approved.”
“True, though I suspect even your father cautioned you to forgo mentioning shooting birds.”
“That he did,” Cassandra admitted, “and perhaps this has been a valuable lesson to me. I have been in the habit of saying all my thoughts and have now discovered that only thinking them is often sufficient.”
“I believe that is a lesson we all learn at some point,” Lady Marksworth said. “In any case, you are right to understand that you did nothing shameful and it will not be overlong before some new idea about someone else is setting the tongues wagging. Hold your head up and go forward—after all, it was only a silly illustration. Ah, here we are.”
Footmen had opened the door and they helped Cassandra to the ground.
*
Lord and LadyBlakeley were a dashing couple—he tall and lean and she nearly as tall as he. They had both removed their masks to greet their guests, though Cassandra could see two footmen standing nearby, ready to hand them over. They both went as lions, his with a great mane and hers as the more delicate female. She supposed the couple wished to declare themselves king and queen of the jungle and the thought made her smile. Londonwasa jungle, when it came down to it.
Lady Marksworth was greeted in all genial familiarity. Lady Blakeley said, “And this must be your charming niece, Miss Knightsbridge.”
Cassandra curtsied and Lady Blakeley rose her up. Loudly, she said, “You are always welcome to my house, innocent fawn.” Then she leaned in and whispered, “Ignore the cobras, they will eventually turn on each other and devour themselves.”
Lord Blakeley had nodded vigorously at that sentiment. “They always do,” he said.
Cassandra did not know what was in her future, but she was comforted by the idea that whatever was to come, Lord and Lady Blakeley had very publicly made it known that they were firmly in her camp.
*
For all hercomfort upon being introduced to the Blakeleys, Cassandra fairly quaked upon entering the ballroom. It was one thing to know that one did not commit any serious crime, and to know that the host and hostess felt the same. It was another to wonder if others present might hold a different opinion.
She could not escape the idea that at least one person had made the effort to hire a boy to throw that ridiculous print through her window. That person might well be in attendance, but how would she know? She also could not escape the idea that many people, even if they’d not seen the print, would have heard some version of what had occurred in the park. Mr. Richards certainly had heard of it only hours after the event, though she still was not clear on why the gentleman thought Sybil ought to break with her over three gentlemen escorting her home. Perhaps her facility with a shotgun had been shocking enough for the man.
Cassandra searched desperately for Sybil. Though her aunt remained at her side, she felt Sybil to be her life raft in a stormy sea. It would be hard enough to locate her friend at a ball this large, and here everyone wore a mask. How would she ever find her?
She was suddenly tapped on the shoulder. Sybil said, “I know that is you, Cassandra, I recognize the chain of white roses embroidered on the hem of your dress.”
Cassandra turned and found Sybil, masked as a dove in soft grey feathers.
“Sybil!” Cassandra practically cried out, relieved to be united with her friend. “You are a dove, Lady Blakeley could not have chosen better for my friend.”
“And you a fawn,” Sybil said. “I believe we have done very well on that front. I have heard that the Montagues are not attending this evening because Lady Montague received a mask very much resembling a snake.”
“Goodness,” Cassandra said. “It would appear Lady Blakeley did not wish her to attend, as who would don such a thing?”
Cassandra found herself markedly relieved that the lady would not attend. She could not know if anything about her had reached Lady Montague’s ears, but she could guess that if it had, the lady would be condemning.
On the other hand, she was rather embarrassed by her own delight at Lady Montague’s misfortune. If Sybil had heard of the mask of a snake, it must be talked of widely. She was ashamed to feel relief at another suffering at the hands of gossip, even if that person was the stern Lady Montague. It was as if gossip and rumor were hunters and thetonwas a timid herd of deer—each deer secretly hoped it would be another singled out for shooting.
Lady Marksworth had stepped away to speak with a friend and Cassandra and Sybil gazed around the ballroom.
“It is almost off-putting,” Sybil said, “to not know who anybody is.”
“At the moment,” Cassandra said, “I find myself rather glad of it as no prying eyes know whoIam.”
“Do be cheerful, Cass,” Sybil said. “I told everything to my mother and father and they stand with Marksworth House. My father said if everybody is to reshuffle their friends because of some ridiculous print going round, England is sunk. My mother stood and quite wonderfully vowed to do battle alongside Miss Knightsbridge’s forces. She’s got Margaret Beaufort back in her line somewhere and is quite happy to engage in an extended campaign.”
“I am so grateful,” Cassandra said, “you must tell them.”
A gentleman masked as what appeared to be a stern old clergyman approached them and they could talk no further on the subject.
