Emma Lane (3 page)

“C
OSTUME
, O
LD
B
OY
. D
OMINO
. Mask. Must be. Too late to dress you like Marc Antony.” Oliver sat in a wing back chair holding his son with his one good arm. It seemed he couldn’t get enough of the boy who was pulling buttons off his father’s coat.

“Here now, son. Might swallow those and then where will we be?” He signaled to a hovering woman who stood anxiously at the door. She came forward and took her young charge by the hand. “You mind Nanny and we will try out that new sail boat later.” Oliver waved a fond farewell as the boy reluctantly left the room.

“You are enjoying spoiling that lad,” Ethan noted.

Oliver grinned guiltily. “Catching up. Already talking and telling me what is what. Smart lad. Smarter than I ever was!” Oliver beamed his approval.

“What is this about a costume? You said it was a ball. Nothing about costume. Where the deuce am I to find that sort of thing at this late date?” Ethan paced the room, stopping to stare out the window.

“Domino. Simple thing to find. Shop carries them already made up. It’s just a mask and cloak that most of the men will be wearing. Go to Samuel’s down the street. I promise, they will fix you up. I must go.” He beamed a wide smile. “I am meeting Gracie. Good luck, Ethan.” His friend clapped him on his sore arm and left the room hurriedly.

“Good God,” Ethan muttered under his breath. He stood for a minute more, staring out the window at the street. He shrugged and turned to leave.

Later that evening Ethan paused on the black and white marble tiles in the foyer of the Simpsons’ elaborate town house. The crush of party goers flowed around him as young men in black dominos begged pardon and young debutants dressed as milk maids, herded by their chaperones, giggled and glanced at him surreptitiously as they passed by. Ethan shrugged. He knew his face was weather-beaten and rough. He accepted it as part and parcel of the war experience. Perhaps he was too far gone for these good people.

War had made his manners abrupt and his taste blunted to the richness of his surroundings. He pulled his black cape closer around him. The red satin lining flashed as the collar stood up against his neck. He reached a deeply-tanned hand up to adjust his black satin mask and suppressed a sardonic smile. Who would recognize him after six years away from home? He knew no one.

Ethan evaded the reception line where his host and hostess were receiving their guests. He had come here for only one reason. Thankful for his extra inches, he scanned the crowd.
Blast it!
Everyone was in costume. How would he ever find Sarah Louise in this churning mass of people, all wearing masks? The fumes of the mingled perfumes assaulted his nose and he struggled not to sneeze. How did they bear to breathe this stale air?

As he scanned the room, his eye lingered on a striking female surrounded by clamoring males. She was dressed — half dressed — in a Roman toga. Or maybe it was Greek. He wasn’t certain of the nationality, but one thing he did know. That was one risqué costume. One rounded shoulder was practically bare and her white muslin gown, none too modest, was wrapped with a gold rope around her waist. Her upper arms were encircled with gold bangles. She wore a white half mask, set with flashing crystals.

Her blond hair was bound up with gold ribbon and sprinkled with more crystals. One honey-coloured curl was allowed to dangle from her top knot. Not diamonds, he was sure. The more precious stones were no doubt the single strand that was draped around her neck and hung with a pendant at the cleft of her bosom. The effect was both a song in simplicity and sophistication at the same time. This woman was no debutant for sure. As he watched she threw back her head, and he heard a familiar crow of laughter even over the constant murmuring of the crowd.

“Sarah,” he murmured underneath his breath. His pulse increased in tempo. Could that be his Sarah? That supple woman with the luscious figure —
his
Sarah? His feet felt frozen to the floor as he watched some man dressed in ancient armor lead her to the center of the ballroom where dance sets were forming. He could not move. He was mesmerized by the motions of the lovely creature as she wove through the movements of the dance. She was lithe, graceful, and smiling. She was a stranger.

Ethan felt the throb of his wounded arm and unconsciously rubbed it. He should go. This was not his world; it was Sarah’s now. He could see that she was comfortable and at home in this glittering world of the
beau monde
. He had no place here. He was a wounded soldier worn out from the fighting, his senses deadened from the pain of losing so many comrades. This world was filled with smiling, happy people out to play. Look how Sarah danced with great skill. He did not know the movements of the dance. Well, maybe that country dance some peasants had taught his troops one boring day when they were at rest.

He should go home, back to the country. His father needed him to help manage the estates. He had been patient these long years with his only son’s desire to fight for his country. His parents were getting on in years and deserved his attention. He should go home. Yet he walked as if drawn by magic toward the smiling incomparable with the golden hair.

Sarah dipped and swayed in time to the music, trying to keep the smile from her face. James was too funny in that full set of armor. The visor kept falling in front of his face, and others had to lead him back into the steps. There was much giggling and pushing, but James was determined to play the role out.

Clank.

There it went again, and James wandered off the square leaving his partner standing waiting in the dance. Laughter again as the four-square of dancers paused to catch him up and get him settled again. Sarah giggled herself. James was as amiable a man as they came, but not as bright as he could be. She was relieved when the music signaled the end of the set. She curtsied to her partner who bowed and clanked his visor shut again.

She felt a touch on her arm and turned around to smile into the face of a complete stranger. He was tall with a deeply tanned, weathered face and glittering eyes, the colour hidden in the flickering candle light from above. The mask he wore gave him a sinister look exacerbated by his luxurious dark hair which was worn too long for fashion. It framed his face and highlighted a square, firm jawline. The slight smile he sent to her revealed white teeth in stark contrast to his tanned skin. She felt a chill run up the back of her neck. Did he masquerade as a poet — or a pirate?

The stranger held out his arm to her, and for some reason she could not comprehend, she took it. He led her away from her friends and through the crowd toward a set of French doors at the end of the ball room. They stood open, and she could see various couples strolling in the garden beyond.

“Do you mean to kidnap me, Dark Domino?” she asked looking up into his face. “Should I be fearful?” She was only half teasing.

“Do not be afraid. It’s cool in the garden. I thought we could get some fresh air.”

He talked in a low voice, but gruff as if he had a cold. She listened intently, but could not identify the man. Yet he seemed so familiar. Surely he was one of her friends, intent on teasing her by making her guess his identity. Then she would play the game as well.

“Then lead on, Dark Domino. I will follow where you take me.”

She smiled gaily as they left the ballroom and entered the semi-darkness of the garden. The fragrance of late season roses drifted by them; candle-lit lanterns hung here and there, marking the pathways. Abruptly the stranger swung them into an unlit pathway and pulled her toward a white bench set against a lush vine twirled around an arbor. A fountain gurgled nearby. He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and swept the bench clean.

“My lady,” he said and bowed her onto the bench. She sat and looked up at him still standing before her. Tension tingled her senses; she was not really afraid, but the excitement of being in the semi-darkness with a strange man was beginning to disturb her.

“It is almost midnight, sir. Should we not reveal our identities a minute or two early?”

“Yes, we can do that. But first…”

He pulled her up and into his arms. His head came down, his hand cupped the back of her head, and his lips found hers. His other arm came around her waist and pulled her close. As their lips touched, he released his breath in a long sigh and held her tenderly, not moving. Sarah Louise was too surprised to move. She did not feel afraid or offended. She felt comforted for some reason and rested against him with her lips pressed close. He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her closer.

Sarah almost swooned with the feelings that overwhelmed her senses. The Dark Domino suddenly increased the intensity of the kiss, roaming his lips around hers almost hungrily. He pulled her so tightly against him, she gasped for breath. As she opened her lips, his tongue probed desperately into her mouth.

“Sir, you forget yourself!” Sarah pulled away almost reluctantly. Why had she felt so at home there in a stranger’s arms?

He stumbled backwards and reached his hand up to rest against his brow.

“Beg pardon. Forgot myself, Sarah. It won’t happen again, I promise. Lost my head there for a minute. It’s been a long time.”

Her heart dropped into her dancing slippers. Instantly she realized why this stranger felt so familiar. Because he
was
familiar.
Six years gone and he comes to me as a stranger.
Blinding anger ripped through her body leaving her almost stuttering in its intensity.

“Ethan! You are the most complete hand! I cannot believe you would treat me this way. Why did you never write? I know I was a very young girl, but young girls can get their hearts broken just the same as — ” She plopped down on the bench behind her and took a deep breath. “You have no right to come to me like this. Not a single letter in six long years. Did you think I was made of stone? How could you treat me like this? I do not want to ever see you again. You are a beast!”

She burst into noisy tears, ripped the mask off, and hid her face with her hands. She said something muffled through her tears.

“What, sweetling? What are you saying to me?” Ethan removed his mask and pulled her hands away from her face. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she looked at him with misery.

“I thought you were dead! I thought your parents were trying to be kind to me and not tell me. I thought you were
dead.”
She practically screamed the last sentence. He tried to pull her up to him, but she pushed him away.

“Go away, Ethan. I’ve made peace with my feelings. I’ve learned to live without you. I have made a nice life for myself. I have good friends and a nice home here in town. Who needs you? Go away! I am going to be married soon anyway.”

“Sarah,” he said, anguish in his voice. “Sarah, I love you. Please listen to me. Please forgive me.”

“Go away, Ethan. You are too late.”

Ethan backed away still holding his arms out to her, but she sat shaking her head. Tears rolled continuously down her cheeks. Finally he muttered an oath, turned, and disappeared into the shrubbery.

Sarah sat on the bench alone staring into the night. She could hear laughter coming from the ball room. A couple appeared from the darkness of the garden, arms wrapped around each other. They stopped to kiss, then walked slowly back up the steps into the party. Still she sat.

“Sarah, are you out here?” Her aunt was calling to her. She stood up, feeling as if her limbs were made of wood, wiped the tears from her eyes, and pushed an errant curl underneath her ribbon.

“I’m here, Aunt Susan. I came out for a breath of fresh air.”

She walked forward and managed a slight smile. Her aunt fussed at her for a minute then mentioned that it was time for them to take their leave. Sarah did not demur. She straightened her back, greeted her friends, said good night to her hosts, and left the ball with her favorite aunt. For some reason she remained quiet about the visit from her old love.

It was too difficult to explain that she had fallen in love with a man when she was only fourteen and now could not love another. That night she cried as she had not in years. She cried quietly into her pillow for the young girl whose heart was broken and the young woman who lived with that affliction still.

“A
RE
Y
OU
G
OING
O
VER
to check on the progress of the new cottages?”

“No, Father. I am going fishing,” Ethan said firmly. “It is too nice a day to always be working. Besides aren’t you hungry for fresh trout for your dinner?” He smiled at his parent who had been eating his breakfast and reading his paper.

“Oh, well, yes. Trout would be nice. Just thought you would go over — no, never mind. You go fishing. Those cottages will not be built all in one day anyway. No need to press yourself.” His father blustered a minute more, shook his newspaper, and subsided behind it.

Ethan had been home for three weeks. It seemed every day that his father relied more and more on him and involved himself less and less in the running of the estate. It worried Ethan some. Was his father ill or just tired? No matter. He was enjoying learning and reacquainting himself with the acreage, the fertile fields, the tenants, and the cattle his father raised. Ethan had to learn the names of the tenants all over again. Six years was a long time. Things changed, children were born, old folks died. He knew he himself had undergone a big change.

War did something to young men, he thought as he gathered his fishing gear together. They left home full of patriotism and visions of heroism. Then they come home beaten and disillusioned, if not wounded, and mentally discouraged. He could not bring his spirits up from the depths to which they had sunk after his encounter with Sarah Louise.

He had met her parents once. They skirted around the topic of their daughter. Apparently she lived most of the time in London with her aunt. There was no mention of a marriage, but that didn’t mean anything. Probably he was not even invited to the ceremony.

Today he walked through the woods with a certain contentment. The path was familiar and dear to him. He could hear in the distance the gurgle of the cold stream where trout basked in the sun light and jumped at hovering flies. As he broke out of the trees he could see a figure, it looked like a young boy, sitting still on the bank. The figure’s fishing line stretched to the middle of the stream.

His heart skipped, and he paused, so familiar to him was the figure. He deliberately stilled his pulse, telling himself that time did not stand still. If only…It had to be one of the tenant’s children, and he moved quietly up behind him.

“Ethan, I can hear you. You are like a horse stomping through the brush. Not a single fish will bite with all that noise.”

Ethan stumbled backwards with surprise. He regained his footing and settled on the bank beside Sarah, who was casting wide across the water. Neither said anything as they fished contentedly. Sarah pulled in two medium-sized trout, and he landed one large one.

“Not enough for us both. You want to keep going?” he asked. “Or will you come to supper?”

“Let us keep going for a while longer,” she said, just as her line dipped in the water. The fish was huge. Sarah stood and walked a little way down the bank. Ethan smiled to see the familiar trousers, but he was disappointed to notice that this time she wore shoes.

“Hold on, Sarah. Ease up a bit. You are going to break the line,” he cautioned.

She turned to glare at him.

“All right. I am sorry. I know you know how to — good God! That is the biggest trout I have ever seen. Hang on, Sarah!” She was pulling with all her strength.

Ethan ran down the bank with a hand net and grabbed the fish as he flipped out of the water. Sarah ran down to join him gurgling with glee at her catch. They pulled the large trout out and got him settled in one of the buckets filled with water. Sarah threw herself down on the grassy bank and hooted with laughter.

“I caught old George!” she crowed. “I did it!”

Ethan stood, looking down into the bucket as if he could not believe his eyes.

“How much do you think he weighs?” Ethan said.

Sarah stood up and came to his side. “A lot. I’m starting to feel guilty. He must be years old to be so big. Should I throw him back?”

“No! We need him for our supper.”

Sarah laughed happily and agreed. They both started gathering up their fishing paraphernalia.

Sarah stopped to peer into the bucket. “I used to come down here when you were gone. I caught a lot of fish, but never one so large as this one.”

He winced. “I know you are very angry at me, sweetling. It was all I could do not to write back to you. I felt so lonely when you stopped sending to me.”

They walked toward the path in a companionable silence for a moment.

“Mother finally confessed her deed,” Sarah said. “I understand now why you did not write to me. Why she would ask that, I cannot understand. She had no objection to our getting married.”

Sarah’s arm brushed against his, and he longed to take her in his arms. She seemed to him to be the Sarah he had loved so long ago. His heart swelled with happiness. Sarah in her brother’s clothes was his Sarah, his heart and soul.

“She wanted you to have a young woman’s Season, to get to know others of your age. Didn’t you enjoy it all? You looked so at home when I watched you with your friends.”

“I really was contemplating marrying someone else. I had plenty of proposals, you know.” She tilted her head and eyed him from the corner of her eye.

Ethan frowned. He was certain she’d had plenty of chances to leave him. He remembered the lush softness of her body against his in that dark garden.

“Mother finally figured out why I turned them all down. She sat me down and told me how she had asked you not to write. I was very angry with her for interfering. Why did you not tell her no?”

“I thought I might be killed in battle, darling girl. I did not want to leave you a very young widow, barely out of the school room. I had no idea I would be gone so long.” He took her hand and turned her to him. “Can you ever forgive me?”

The large trout flipped in the bucket and almost jumped into the grass. The noise from the splash startled them both. “I guess that might be your answer. Catching George must mean luck is back with us. Do you promise never to leave me again?”

She dropped her fishing pole in the grass. After dropping his own pole and placing the bucket of fresh fish on the path, he took her firmly into his arms.

He looked deep into her eyes and answered, “I promise with all my heart and soul, dear love.”

“That was a pretty nice kiss I got from a certain Dark Domino. Do you think you can top that, Ethan?”

He groaned and bent his head, slanting his lips across hers. She reached up and drew his head firmly down to hers. They sank into the soft grass beside the path with a beam of sunshine finding its way through the branches and warming their shoulders. Ethan released his breath in a long, contented sigh.

Sarah broke free and laughed up at him. “I must have known that was you all the time. You felt so comfortable to me.” She turned her face back to him to be kissed as the fish splashed in the bucket.

“I do love you so, my sweet. Do you think we may be married soon?” Ethan asked. Sarah burrowed her face into his chest, nodding as she cuddled in his arms.

“I do think we have waited long enough, Ethan.”

“Are you ready, Sarah? Let’s take these fish to Cook and tell our parents. I am guessing they will not be surprised that we have finally found our way into love at long last.”

They walked down the path together with their arms full of fishing gear and each other.

The End