A Game of Chess, Chapter 24 - PG-13

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librarian_7
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A Game of Chess, Chapter 24 - PG-13

Post by librarian_7 »

Wow, so this has been longer in coming than I’d anticipated, but I thought it might make a nice Christmas gift. With luck, the shopping is done, the presents are wrapped, and it’s time to sit back with a nice glass of wine, and a trip to a different place and time, where a vampire is attending a ball… Please enjoy!

A Game of Chess

Chapter 24

The city streets were even more raucous than usual this Fourth of July evening, with knots of boys setting off squibs in the streets, and frightening all but the most jaded of horses. Were it not for the expert driving of Josef’s coachman, Fox, there might have been a collision, or worse. The matched sorrels curvetted, but his iron hand on the reins kept them on track, and out of the paths of oncoming vehicles.

The crush around the Mainwaring house was tiresome in the extreme, Josef thought, but he’d promised Tessa a ball, and gone to considerable expense—and what was more important, effort—to make that a reality. He wasn’t about to turn away from it because of some heavy traffic.

Eventually, however, the carriage came to a halt outside the imposing bulk of the Mainwaring house.

Josef paused in handing Tessa out of the carriage. Music drifted out through the open windows, filling the evening air with the sweetness of melody. Tessa, gripping Josef’s hand tightly, filled her other hand with her wide, billowing skirt. She looked radiant, and he had to admit that Mrs. Marshall’s advice on the dress had been sound.

The dress, as befitted Tessa’s presumed status as the gently-reared ward of a wealthy businessman, was mostly white, although its paleness was relieved by the elaborate decoration of appliquéd dark blue ribbons around the endless hem and over the front and back of the bodice. It seemed a bit plain to Josef, but Mrs. Marshall insisted that the simplicity was suitable for wartime, as well as Tessa’s youth.

She also wore a wide band of dark blue velvet around her throat, a cameo centered in it, concealing the faint marks of vampire fangs marring her otherwise flawless porcelain skin. She had dressed her chestnut hair simply in a knot on the nape of her neck, and aside from the cameo, her only jewelry was a pair of pearl earrings that danced beside her face.

She paused, a faint shadow of concern passing over her face. “Are you sure this is all right?” she murmured. “I feel like an imposter, Mr. Fitz.”

He shook his head. “You are with me.” He lifted one corner of his mouth. “If I am welcome here, so are you.”

Tessa looked down, watching her footing as she stepped down from the carriage. Once on the pavement of the grand entryway, she took a deep breath and shook out her skirts to put them in order, then lifted one lace-gloved hand to smooth her hair, which had no need of such attention.

“You look beautiful.” Josef tucked her hand into the corner of his arm, patting it reassuringly. “Shall we?”

Even with all the French windows thrown wide open, and blocks of ice at strategic locations around the ballroom, the heat was oppressive. Every woman present was fluttering a fan, in vain attempt to keep the perspiration from dewing her forehead.

The soft gloom of the summer evening was obliterated by the blaze of the chandeliers in the ballroom. Once inside, Josef was hailed at once by Sky Smith, who stood at the side of a tall, sallow woman dressed in a modest, dark gown with narrow skirts, trimmed with a minimum of black lace. She snapped her fan open and shut, a displeased expression on her face.

“Fitz,” Sky boomed, a note of false heartiness in his voice. “I’d heard you were coming, but I put no stock in the rumor.”

“Don’t let Mrs. Marshall hear you call her a gossip,” Josef replied, and Sky produced an obligatory laugh. “I promised my ward a treat. You remember Miss Tessa Howard?”

Sky acknowledged Tessa with a slight bow. “How could I not?” He turned to the woman beside him. “Leticia, my dear, allow me to introduce a business associate, Mr. Josef Fitzgerald, and his ward, Miss Howard. They are only recently in the city.”

Sky’s wife set her lips in a prim line, and looked Tessa carefully up and down, gauging the propriety of every point of the young woman’s dress. Under Mrs. Smith’s scrutiny, Tessa cast her eyes down, her cheeks coloring. “Well,” she said, addressing her comments to Josef, “those lace mitts are a little mature for girl her age, but I suppose the dress is suitable enough.”

Tessa was dismayed to find her hands trembling, and steadied them by resting them upon the swell of her skirts. She wanted to reach for the fan dangling from her waist by a silk cord, but made herself resist. Suddenly, she was reminded of Madam Rose’s inspections. Even though she’d never been sent to the parlor with the other swallows, Madam Rose believed in proper training for all the young mortals under her roof. The thought was almost enough to bring a smile to her lips, when she considered the apoplectic reaction Mrs. Smith would surely have to that particular comparison.

Meanwhile, Josef found himself irritated by the sanctimonious woman. It was no wonder Sky sought comfort far away from his marriage bed. “Yes,” he said, “I had the good fortune to take counsel on the matter of her costume from Mrs. Honoria Marshall and her daughter-in-law. I am sure their acumen is beyond reproach.”

Sky winced. “Speaking of, I believe I see my redoubtable cousin just over there. I’m sure you’ll wish to let her inspect her handiwork.” He shot a quick look at his wife. “If you will excuse me briefly, my dear, I should greet her myself.”

Mrs. Smith gave a tight, little nod, her expression making it clear that there was no love lost between her and Honoria Marshall. “If you must,” she said. “I observe Reverend and Mrs. Snodgrass have arrived. I do need to speak to them concerning the next Ladies Aid meeting.”

With the barest inclination of his head to Mrs. Smith, Josef turned to Tessa, and took her arm again. “We must make you known to Mrs. Marshall, and Mrs. Cam. Don’t be nervous; they won’t bite.”

As they made their way around the edge of the dance floor, Josef scanned the crowd. Most of the men present were older, businessmen were growing fat—both literally and figuratively—off the wartime economy. The stark black and white of their formal attire was offset by a smaller smattering of dark blue uniforms glittering with gold braid. Even in New York, the reminders of the conflict were ever-present. A few of the young officers showed evidence of their combat. An empty sleeve pinned up here, a wooden leg there, more than one eyepatch.

Not all the young men were in uniform, though. Privileged sons of wealthy families who had bought their way out of the draft, they laughed and joked with the insouciance of youth, sharing tales of college mischief, and enjoying flirting with the young ladies.

The ladies fell into two groups. Brightly clad young women fluttered silk fans and giggled together, awaiting invitations to step out on the dance floor. Behind them, their mothers and grandmothers watched with protective eyes. Josef had seen duennas in the royal courts of Spain who were not half so punctilious in guarding their charges.

He approached two of the more somberly clad ladies, Tessa clinging shyly to his arm. “Mrs. Marshall, Mrs. Cam,” he said. “A lovely evening.”

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Fitzgerald,” Mrs. Marshall began, ready to go through the niceties of formal introduction to his ward. Before she could proceed, though, Mrs. Cam surprised her mother-in-law by stepping forward to take Tessa’s arm.

“You must be Miss Howard. And don’t you look lovely!” she exclaimed. “Mama Marshall, that dress is just perfection on her, isn’t it?”

Taken somewhat aback, Mrs. Marshall, like Mrs. Smith before her, gave the girl a long, appraising look. She nodded in restrained approval. “Yes,” she agreed, “it’s quite suitable for the occasion.”

“All due to your kind advice,” Josef said. He gave Tessa a glance. “Miss Howard, would you feel comfortable if I left you to the supervision of this lady and her daughter-in-law?”

Tessa concealed a momentary panic, although not before Josef caught sight of it in her eyes. “If—if it wouldn’t be an imposition,” she murmured.

“I’m sure it won’t be any time at all before the young men come around clamoring for a dance,” Mrs. Cam said with a smile.

Josef was suddenly unsure how well he liked that idea, but he gave Tessa a last look, and a nod, “I’ll be back. You should save a dance for me.”

“As many as you like, Mr. Fitz.”

As he walked away, Josef was still pondering that remark.

The evening passed, as evenings do. The chatter, the music, the heat continued. Josef, along with the rest of the attendees at the ball, had hoped that the fall of night would bring some modicum of relief, or at least a cooler breeze, but the passage of time and the crush in the ballroom put the lie to that expectation. He had spent the majority of the evening talking business with various men, although he had attempted to keep Tessa in sight. He suspected that the social eagle eye of Mrs. Marshall and her deputy, Mrs. Cam, had been far more observant in this duty.

And speaking of duties – perhaps he owed one to the redoubtable matron. He detached himself from a rather boring conversation about regional politics, and made his way back to the small group of ladies.

“Mrs. Marshall,” Josef said with a smile, extending a white-gloved hand, “would you do me the honor of a dance?”

The dowager, who in the heat had perhaps consumed two glasses of punch too quickly, almost lost her dignity in a giggle, then recovered. “Now, Mr. Fitzgerald, you know dancing is for the younger ladies.” She fluttered her fan, telling herself it was for the heat, and not an act of her flirtatious past.

He regarded her steadily, his expression full of gentle mockery. She was stung by it, but knew he saw through her façade. “You are not,” he said, “so very old. Waltz with me.”

The orchestra had started a slow tune in three four-time, and the music as much as the handsome young man in front of her seduced her into taking his proffered hand to walk onto the dance floor.

It’d been years since she had waltzed. In her youth, the dance had been vaguely scandalous – quite a change from the reels where groups moved in graceful patterns. A couple, dancing together, the man’s hand at the woman’s waist! So intimate – so strange. But it had become accepted, and other couples’ dances had followed.

She came out of her reminiscence with a start. They were at the far end of the ballroom; his strong, sure lead had moved her smoothly along the floor, and her memories had swept her feet with him in the long-remembered patterns. It was all so familiar, so much like those giddy girlhood waltzes she had shared with handsome, arrogant Bobby Fitz. “You dance very like your uncle, she said. “I think I could close my eyes and believe myself a young girl again, dancing with him.”

He smiled down at her. “If that will give you pleasure,” he said, barely stopping himself from adding, “my dear,” “I promise to keep you from harm.”

Honoria Marshall, a widow of great dignity and propriety, smiled almost mischievously, and let her eyes drift shut. The music was not the same as it had been 30 years ago, and her limbs were not as supple, nor her waist as slender, but for the next few minutes, the intervening time between past and present dropped away, and she was a 17-year-old, in the arms of her first love, gliding across the floor while all the other young women watched and envied. That was nothing, though, to the sheer feel of his arms around her, the touch of his gloves against her hand, her waist. Then, she had felt she could dance forever, and for a fleeting moment wondered if she had, if her lifetime have been one long dance with this man, this auburn haired man with his clear, whiskey brown eyes and trim, powerful figure. He had not changed, not one whit, in all this time. How had she not seen it? How had she not realized?

The music ended, and she opened her eyes. She sighed, although no sound escaped her, and the gossamer illusion shattered and floated away into the candlelight. She took a deep breath, as the reality of her aging body returned to her.

She looked up into his eyes – surely they were not exactly the same color as Bobby Fitz’s. A trifle darker, perhaps. It had been a dream, a memory made temporarily flesh. “Thank you,” she said. “That was – extraordinary.”

“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Marshall,” he replied as they walked back to where Mrs. Cam stood waiting. He bowed to the younger woman, knowing and regretting that social custom forbade his asking her to dance as well, with her husband so noticeably absent. He experienced a momentary surge of disgust for Cam Marshall. Just because the young fool have been bewitched by that leech of a Duvall woman was no excuse for showing his wife such public disrespect. Half the men here, he knew, would be entwined in the arms of their mistresses tonight – but later, once their wives had been danced with, and duly escorted home. There were rules, for that sort of thing, and polite society was nothing if not cognizant of rules and rituals. He doubted Honoria Marshall had raised her son to be a cad, but that was how he turned out. Coraline, Josef recognized, was an experienced coquette, but even she could not have corrupted a wholly virtuous man. She had seen a weakness, and exploited it.

It was a pity, Josef thought, that Coraline had been born a woman. She’d have been deadly in business. He could use such a partner, as ruthless and intractable as himself.

He was a little surprised at her absence tonight. There were some social walls, he supposed, that even her formidable charms could not breach. He thought he had caught a whiff of vampire in the crowd, earlier, but it was not her scent, and it had vanished before he could locate the source. His mouth twisted with annoyance. This whole expedition to New York had been an exercise in obstacles, not the least of which was the continuing reticence of the vampires he knew were in the city. He’d done nothing to make himself an outcast. Why were they hiding from him? Ah, well, not a problem he could solve tonight.

Returning with glasses of punch for Mrs. Marshall and her daughter-in-law, Josef cast a swift glance around the ballroom, looking for Tessa. When he spotted her, dancing sedately with a portly older man, he frowned. She was smiling, but there was a stiffness in her posture that betokened distress. He handed off the cool cups to the Marshall women, and excused himself.

Weaving his way across the ballroom floor through the moving maze of dancing couples, he tapped the shoulder of Tessa’s partner, and cut in with a smile.

Tessa’s expression didn’t change, but her shoulders relaxed, and she said softly, “Thank you, Mr. Fitz.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He gave her a searching look. “Tell me, what’s the matter.”

Tessa glanced around her, but the other couples nearby all seemed absorbed in either the dance or each other. “These men,” she said. “They’re horrible.”

Josef arched an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”

“They try to be subtle – but the younger ones, the younger ones all ask innocently leading questions about the size of my inheritance. I don’t think they see me at all.”

Josef guided her deftly through a spin. “Then they’re fools. You’re the prettiest girl here. And the older ones?”

The color that suffused her cheeks, Josef knew, was anger, although an onlooker might have taken it as the result of dancing in such a warm room. “They all seem to assume I’m your mistress,” she said. Her smile never changed, but her words dripped with vitriol. “And several have suggested themselves as replacement ‘protectors’ for me. I don’t know which is worse – to be treated like a race horse at auction, or just a—” her blush deepened, “mare to be ridden and passed along.”

Josef smile faded, and he nodded to her. “None of them shall touch you, Tessa, and none of them shall ever have you.” He forced his face into more benign expression. “Just laugh at them, sweetheart. It’s all the scoundrels deserve.” The song was ending, and their dance was over. “Now, let me escort you back to Mrs. Marshall. I think you might need a rest.”

The Marshalls were not alone when Josef and Tessa rejoined them. Mrs. Marshall was chatting affably with the serene woman of about 30, dressed in a brilliant green ball gown that set off her fair hair and dancing eyes.

“Mr. Fitzgerald,” Mrs. Marshall said, “have you met our hostess, Mrs. Mainwaring?”

Josef bowed slightly. “I have been most remiss in paying my courtesies to you, madam. I do thank you for the invitation that allowed me to afford my ward with such an unexpected treat." He gestured to Tessa, who was shyly fluttering her fan near her face. "If I may present Miss Tessa Howard?"

Mrs. Mainwaring shot a sharp glance at Mrs. Marshall, and the older lady nodded slightly. "It has been a very busy night, so I shall forgive you this time, Mr. Fitzgerald. And Miss Howard, what a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hear you have been quite the belle, this evening."

Tessa, unsure how to react, dropped a slight curtsey. "The pleasure has been all mine, ma'am," she said.

Mrs. Mainwaring laughed, and maneuvered around Tessa's open side to slip an arm through the young woman's elbow. "Now that all the social niceties have been observed, there's someone who has begged me for an introduction to you, my dear." Using her own black lace fan, she beckoned toward the crowd, and presently, a young man approached them.

He was tall and lean, almost as tall as Josef, and wore the dark blue of a Union uniform. A trim moustache adorned his open, good-natured face. Josef judged him to be about twenty-three or so, and noted the marks of much time spent out of doors on his skin. That, and the way he carried himself, told Josef this was no toy soldier, no callow privileged boy who spent his days standing behind some general. And his eyes betrayed a frank interest in Tessa that Josef found off-putting. He had to remind himself that in this company, he was a foster father to her, and nothing more.

“May I present Captain Hamilton Nash?” Mrs. Mainwaring said brightly. “He’s a nephew of my husband, from Connecticut. Ham, Mrs. Honoria Marshall, Mrs. Cam Marshall, Mr. Josef Fitzgerald, and Miss Tessa Howard.”

Nash bowed slightly. A carefully gauged angle, Josef thought. “Charmed, ladies. And Mr. Fitzgerald, I have heard you spoken of well, this evening.”

Josef arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” he murmured.

Mrs. Marshall closed her fan and tapped it across her palm. “So, your mother is Felicity Mainwaring Nash? I knew her when she was just a girl.”

“Yes, ma’am, she has often spoken of the dear friends of her youth in New York,” he replied.

“Please remember me to her when next you write.”

He nodded. “I shall do so.”

Mrs. Marshall slanted a quick glance over at Tessa. “But you didn’t have your aunt introduce you so you could chat with an old woman, I’ll be bound.”

Nash had the grace to color slightly. “I confess I did not,” he said, “but it turned out to be an added bonus.” He shifted to look at Tessa. “May I have the honor of the next dance, Miss Howard?”

Tessa looked to Josef, who gave her a somewhat resigned smile. “Well, you’ve been more properly introduced to Captain Nash than to most of your partners this evening,” he said. “Go, enjoy your dance.” At least this one won’t be questioning her about her bank accounts, he reflected as she took the offered hand of the young officer and stepped onto the dance floor once more. The band struck up a lively tune, and they swung into a sprightly galop.

“They do make a lovely couple,” Mrs. Cam said softly. Josef pressed his lips into a thin line, and held his peace.

She had danced with many partners this evening, but Capt. Hamilton Nash seemed different, somehow. The quick glides and hopping turns off the dance, although they required little concentration, did not allow for easy conversation. Tessa was free to focus on Nash’s face, and on the feeling of his arm around her. She hadn’t thought about it much, before, but after waltzing with Josef, the hands of this mortal seemed strangely insubstantial. While Josef held her, she had felt secure, protected. It was as though she stood behind a wall of stone, safe from the world. It was comfortable, familiar. Now, held loosely in the hands of a young man, she was released from that prison of the familiar. If she wanted, she could break away and be anything she desired. She felt like she could fly, that she was tethered to the earth by the frailest of bonds. It was terrifying, it was exhilarating. She began to laugh, from the sheer joy of it. Her partner joined in, and after a few sidelong glances, the couples around them began to laugh as well, the merriment ringing through the hall.

When the music stopped, Tessa gasped for breath, laying one hand across her stomach, and fluttering her fan in earnest. Nash was red-faced from exertion as well, and Tessa daringly moved her fan to send air across his visage. The gesture seemed oddly intimate, and when their eyes met, Tessa’s courage failed her, and she moved her fan to a more sedate position.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Nash shook his head. “I appreciated it, believe me.” He offered her his arm, and she slipped her gloved hand into the crook of his elbow. “Now, it seems to me that’s the sort of effort that merits a glass of punch.”

“It was – lively,” she replied. “And I am thirsty.”

Convention demanded that he return her to the spot where her guardian stood glowering, but Nash instead steered her to the refreshments table.

“I’m only on leave for a short time,” he said, “but I would like to call on you, if I may.”

Tessa cast her eyes down. “I would enjoy that, but – my guardian. You would need his permission, and he’s very strict.”

Nash shrugged and smiled at her. “If I can face rebel artillery, I expect I can stand up to most anything.”

Tessa laughed, but this time it held a much different note. “You don’t know my guardian.” She wondered, at that, how far Mr. Fitz would go to keep up a social front that painted him as her guardian. It would be so easy for him to send her away, or constrain her much more than he had. He could send her back to Madam Rose with a word, or worse. She didn’t know why he’d been so kind, and why he’d made her so—so public. It was almost frightening. She smiled at Ham, hoping her thoughts had not been written on her face. “Mr. Fitz is very protective of me.”

Later, as the carriage rolled through dark and quiet streets, Tessa felt as though the evening had been a bright eternity. She’d danced three more times with Captain Nash, although Josef had claimed her again for the final waltz of the evening. While she was still a little disconcerted by the attention she’d received early in the evening, the near propositions of strangers, dancing with her Mr. Fitz, and with Captain Nash—Ham, he’d insisted by their last dance—had been magical, like the books she’d read. She realized with a jolt that she hadn’t thought of Joshua once during the evening. Was she beginning to forget him? The idea filled her with sorrow and guilt. Joshua was her lover, her life, her vampire. Hamilton Nash, however handsome and however present, could never replace him. She sighed, and unconsciously leaned closer to Josef, who laid an arm around her shoulders.

“Mr. Fitz,” she said, “why is life so complicated?”

He laughed softly, a warm rumble she could feel through his soft black coat. “If I knew that, my dear, it would be a lot simpler,” he replied. “But for tonight, I’d suggest you not worry over it. Let the night be the night.”

Later still, Tessa sat before the mirror of her vanity, regarding the young woman who looked out of the glass. The ball gown was gone, with the kind help of Mrs. Davidson. The housekeeper had acted annoyed, by being kept up all hours of the night, as she put it, but Tessa had seen how she smiled at Mr. Fitz when they came in, and her gentle touch in helping Tessa out of her finery had been telling, as well. The flickering candles showed her, she thought, a creature she barely recognized. One without a shadow of grief in her eyes, and one who was far more polished, more sophisticated, than Tessa had ever thought to be. She ran a finger across her lips, wondering what a kiss from Hamilton Nash would have been like. Not that he’d tried, of course, he was a gentleman, and the ball a far too exposed place for such behavior. After all, they’d barely met! Still, she’d never kissed a living man, and it was only normal to wonder, wasn’t it? Nothing would come of it, she knew. Dawn was coming, soon, and she needed to get to bed. She sighed, and began to take the combs and pins out of her hair, repeating Josef’s words. “Let the night be the night.” And slipping in between the sheets of her bed, she added, “And the day be the day.”
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LadyAilith
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Re: A Game of Chess, Chapter 24 - PG-13

Post by LadyAilith »

Oh, Lucky - thank you so very much for the lovely and very unexpected gift of a new chapter! I adore this story and was quite pleased to get a notification in my email that there was something new to read from you. So very, very nice.

Love, love, love Josef! I can see him waltzing around the room with Tessa, the candlelight reflecting off the mirrors, the gleaming silver of the candelabra, the beautiful ladies in their finery. *sigh*

I look forward to another chapter whenever your muse moves you. Happy Holidays!

LadyAilith :redcandle:
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Re: A Game of Chess, Chapter 24 - PG-13

Post by allegrita »

I'm thrilled to see a new chapter of this story, and what a gorgeous scene! I loved the dance between Josef and Honoria. I can't blame her one bit for being swept up in her memories. :happysigh: :melts: Dancing with Josef would be a fantastic experience. :hearts:

Poor Tessa got a rude shock. :sadface: It must hurt her already low self esteem to find out that she's little more than a commodity to most of the men. :sigh: But then there's Ham Nash. :brow: He's not a vamp, but he seems very compelling, and he's obviously a man of the world. He intrigues me. :chin: Is he as much of a gentleman as he acted at the ball? What's he up to? I hope we learn more about him!

It's lovely of Mrs. Cam to show such kindness to Tessa. I feel so sorry for her. Coraline doesn't care if a mere wife gets hurt in service to her schemes, but Cam should. :nonono: It says a lot about Josef that he notices and disapproves of the way Mrs. Cam is being treated.

What a wonderful Christmas gift, thank you, Lucky! :hearts: :gift: :hug:
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