A Sirens Song

Devon, England, 1862. 
Lord Jonathon Beaufort stood unbuttoning his shirt in the room of the Inn he shared with his new bride, the newly styled Lady Elizabeth Beaufort nee Swanson, on their wedding night. His new wife was sitting at the boudoir of the Inn room where they were staying, brushing her long golden locks unti they shone softly in the candlelight. 
As he unbuttoned his shirt Jonathon found himself glancing in the direction of his new bride, unable to take his eyes away from the beauty of her golden hair that streamed down her back over her chemise nightgown, one little triangle of creamy flesh revealed in the way the chemise hung. 
'Could you open a window, dear?' his new wife asked him.
Jonathon did as his wife requested and unhinged the latch on the old window of the Inn room. The tangy smell of saltwater hit him as he opened the window. 
The Inn stood on just off from a headland out to sea. Jonathon could hear waves crashing on the rocks nearby. There was a moon out that night shining down over the craggy coastline and the English channel beyond. He caught his breath at the sight. Just as he was about to move away from the window and return to undressing for his wedding night, he heard a song carrying on the wind. 
 'Aaaaah-aaah-aaaaaaaah...' came an eerie yet alluring melody through the window.
Jonathon stopped in his tracks. 
'Aaaaah-aaah-aaaaaaaah...' came the eerily beautiful song again. 
'What the devil?' he muttered to himself, returning to the window to see if he could perceive the source of the song from his vantage point there. 
He opened the window more. All he could see was the same as he had seen before. 
'Aaaaah-aaah-aaaaaaaaah...' the song came even clearer now. It seemed to be coming, impossibly, from beyond the headland. 
Jonathon felt the melody tug at him, pulling him...
'I am going out for a breath of fresh air, dearest,' he heard himself saying to his wife who was sitting at her boudoir, seemingly oblivious to the song. She made a murmur of assent before returning to her hair.  
Jonathon made his way down the stairway of the Inn, through the parlour and out the door onto the headland. He thought he could hear the innkeeper crying after him, but his mind was full of that song so he kept going on. 
A cloud bank had covered the moon, and all was darkness.
'Aaaaah-aaah-aaaaaaaaah...' the song came again, filling every fibre of Jonathon's being with it's melody, calling to him and pulling him through the darkness...
The song faded away then and just as it did the cloud bank broke, and the moon shone it's light on everything once more. 
Jonathon could see clearly now, and saw that he was standing just at the edge of the precipice, looking down onto the rocks and sea below. 
He gasped then. A figure was sitting on the rocks at the base of the cliff. A figure with long dark hair, pale skin and a silvery tail that glimmered in the moonlight. The figure opened her mouth.
'Aaaaaah-aaah-aaaaaaaaah...' she sang. 
Jonathon felt the pull of the song again and found himself stepping forward, dangerously close to the edge now. As he came closer he could make out the features of the creature on the rock in the bright moonlight. An oval shaped face, big doe eyes and rose red lips opened in song. His eyes widened in recognition. 
'NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!' he cried before falling forward over the edge of the precipice.  

London, England, Christmas 1862. 
Lord William Mothesleys Christmas party was well underway, gaily clad ladies and elegantly attired lords milling around with their glasses of mulled wines and plates of marzipan and turkish delight. Musicians in one corner played traditional tunes. The hall was decorated with garlands of evergreen and holly and a giant Christmas tree stood in its centre, lit from head to foot with tapered candles. 
Lord Johnathon Beaufort stood in pleasant discussion with some of his peers, the heady mulled wine helping him relax into even a conversation about regional politics. His peers Lord Monteroth and Lord Carlisle were in a heated discussion, and he found himself drifting in and out of attention to it, his senses pleasantly dulled by the fine mulled wine. 
Just then he felt someone touch lightly on his arm. He turned to see a dark haired beauty standing there. 
'Lord Jonathon Beaufort?' the young lady said in a lilting, melodic voice. 
'Yes, may I help you with something, Miss-?' he said. 
'Miss Kelly. Miss Eliza Rose Kelly,' she said.
Kelly. The name rang a bell in Johnathon's mind. There had been talk lately of a wealthy Irishman who had purchased property in London. He had made his fortune with a linen mill back in Ireland and was looking to further his prosperity here in London. 
Jonathon took in the beauty before him, so this must be his daughter. 
'Miss Kelly, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,' he said, taking her gloved hand and kissing it. 
He looked up to see her eyes widen and cheeks flush in the most pleasing way. 
He smiled down at her, her cheeks flushed even more and she dropped her gaze before looking up and smiling again. 
Jonathon felt his heart thump lightly in his chest at her alluring smile. 
'Would you care to dance, Miss Kelly?' he asked now as the musicians struck up a lively tune. 
'I would love to dance, my lord,' the young lady replied with a wide, bright smile. 
Jonathon had never felt so heavenly as he danced with the charming young lady who gazed up at him wide eyed all throughout the evening, shooting him the most dazzling smiles every now and then. 
By the end of the evening, he inquired as to her well being to which she responded that she was feeling a little tired after all the dancing, and so he escorted her to the little courtyard of Lord Mothesley's townhouse so that she could get some fresh air. There was a moon shining onto the leafy courtyard. It made for a pretty sight. 
Jonathon watched with pleasure as his young companion's eyes widened again at the lovely sight before her. 
'But it's beautiful!' she exclaimed.
Jonathon smiled, charmed by her enthusiasm for the quaint courtyard lit by moonlight. 
She looked up to him then with her big doe eyes, a small smile starting on the corners of her lips. 
He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her red rosebud lips. He pulled back and saw a pink blush rise in her pale cheeks. Utterly charmed by her delicate blushes, he leaned in to kiss her again. Her soft lips and the way she gave way to him ignited his passion. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her harder still. They stayed there in the moonlit courtyard, locked in an embrace, kissing for some time. 
Jonathon heard a clock strike midnight from somewhere further back in the house and pulled away. 
'No, don't stop,' Eliza said breathily.
'I am afraid we must, my dear,' he said to her with real regret in his heart. 
He took her elbow gently and escorted her back to the grand room. 
'Ah, Jonathon!' he heard as he re-entered the room. 
He turned, it was Lord Montefort. 
'There you are, where did you get to, eh?' he asked 'Not off with some lassie, I hope!' 
Lord Montefort said it in jest, but Jonathon felt a jolt and turned around to see that Eliza Kelly was gone. He found himself smiling slightly. 
Montefort had his arm around Jonathon, leading him somewhere and talking. Jonathon did not hear a word. His head was still full of an oval faced shape, big doe eyes and red rosebud lips. 
Montefort took Johnathon down a hallway and to drawing room with red and gold wallpapered walls where Lord Mothesley and a few others were gathered. Lord Mothesleys butler was pouring glasses of port for the assembled gentleman. 
'Ah, Beaufort! Good to see you!' Lord Mothesley called to him. 
'Come, I have someone I want you to meet,' he said, putting his arm around Jonathon. 
He led Jonathon to an older, richly dressed man. 
'This is Lord Edward Swanson of Swanson Estate, Edward, this is Lord Jonathon Beaufort  of Beaufort Abbey,' Lord Mothesley introduced the two of them. 
'How do you do,' the two lords said en tendem. 
The butler handed Jonathon a glass of port, and the rest of the evening passed in something of a haze, all thoughts of doe eyed beauties forgotten. 

                                                         **************

Eliza Kelly awoke in her four poster bed in her bedroom in her fathers London townhouse. She stretched dreamily, her head full of thoughts from last night when she had danced with the dashing Lord Jonathon Beaufort at a festive party for the season. She languished in the bed remembering his dark twinkling eyes smiling down at her as they danced the night away....and later the feel of his impassioned lips on hers in a moonlit courtyard. She couldn't stop smiling as she lay in her comfortable feather bed, lost in the all too pleasant memories of the previous night. She was drifting off into a dreamworld of moonlight kisses when she heard a knock at the door. 
'Ma'am?' came the voice of Emma, her maid servant. 'Ma'am, are you decent?' 
Eliza jumped from the bed and threw on her robe. 
'Yes!' she called back. 
Emma came bustling in the room with a tray for Eliza's breakfast. 
'I reckoned you would fancy taking your breakfast up here, after your suaree last night,' she said to Eliza. 
Eliza smiled at the thoughtfulness of her maid and sat down at her table to eat. The breakfast was of bread, dried fruit, some butter, honey and tea. Eliza realized what a ferocious appetite she had, and tore into it whilst Emma drew her bath and got her dress for the day ready. Eliza finished eating and bathed, Emma chattering about the coming weeks when Eliza's parents would be away to the continent. Eliza frowned slightly as she washed herself in the bathtub next to the fire Emma had laid. Far fetched dreams of parties where there would be more moonlight kisses with a certain handsome lord formed in her mind as Emma chattered away. Eliza had done bathing and dried herself, then began the arduous task of dressing in the way that was appropriate for a young lady of her social standing. Gone were the more carefree days where she dressed as she pleased and did what she pleased in a country town in Ireland, when her father's mill was much smaller. 
As Emma was tying her dress up there came a knock on the door. 
'Miss Eliza?' came the voice, Conor, of the young manservant of the household. 
Emma went to open the door. 
'The carriage has arrived for Mr and Mrs Kelly, they wish to bade their daughter farewell,' Eliza overheard Conor say  to Emma. She frantically tried to finish dressing herself before Emma told Conor to be on his way and finished with Eliza's dress herself.  
When she was proper, Eliza made her way down the hallway and down the stairs to where her mother, father and big brother, Michael, were gathered in the hall, her parents bags ready being brought by their serving staff to the carriage awaiting on the cobblestone street outside. Her handsome, dark haired mother was kissing her brother on both his cheeks. 
'Eliza, my girl!' her father called. 'I haven't seen you all morning!' 
'I breakfasted in my room, father,' she said to him, going over and kissing him on the cheek. 
'Yes, well, you know it's better for you to breakfast in the parlour but we'll say no more about that.' 
Eliza's mother turned from her brother to her then. 
'Eliza, my dear daughter,' she said, and then drew herself up to her full height 'I expect you to comport yourself with the dignity appropriate to a lady of your station while we are away. It is more important now than ever that  you do act with the grace and integrity expected of a lady of your class.' 
'I will do my best to do as you have asked, mother,' Eliza responded with a lowered head. 
Her mother placed a crooked forefinger under Eliza's chin and tipped it up, giving Eliza a little smile. Eliza felt warmed and returned her mothers smile. Even with the extra pressures on them now with their newfound place in life, her mother still loved her. 
Then, it was time for her parents to be on their way. All the luggage was packed onto the back of the carriage and the driver had hopped out to open the door. With one last kiss for her son and another for her daughter, Mrs Roberta Kelly took her husbands hand and they walked down the steps of their townhouse, Mr Kelly helping his wife alight the carriage there waiting before climbing onboard himself. 
Eliza and her brother waved to the carriage as it drove down the street and rounded the corner. Then it was just the two of them. They stood awkwardly on the top of the stairs to their home. 
'Would you like a game of billiards, sister?' Michael asked her. 
'Certainly,' Eliza smiled. 
The morning passed enjoyably, Eliza even winning at times. They lunched at 12pm, feasting on cold ham, bread, cheese and wine from the pantry and then spent the afternoon playing cards. At around 3pm, the doorbell rang. Eliza heard Emma answering it. 
'Miss Eliza, you have a guest,' Emma said, arriving at the parlour door, followed by a young lady with burnished copper curls and a brown hat jauntily placed atop them. 
Eliza beamed at the sight of her friend, Miss Lucy Crompton. 
'Lucy!' she cried and rushed over to her friend, clasping her hands.
Lucy placed a peck on Eliza's cheek.
'My apologies for calling at such an unsociable hour, I was only hoping to hear about the party you attended last night,' she said. 
Edward, seeing that the game of cards was over, politely excused himself from the room, leaving Eliza and Lucy to their chat. 
Eliza rang the bell and had Emma bring some tea and scones for her guest. 
They took their seats at the parlour table. 
'Well, my dear, you must tell me all,' Lucy said, putting one of her hands over Eliza's. 
Èliza hardly knew where to begin. The festive great hall, the towering tree, the mulled wine and sweets...the dancing with a handsome man...
'There was a gentleman?' Lucy interupted when Eliza reached that part.
Eliza blushed. 
'Yes,' she affirmed to her friend. 
'He was handsome?' Lucy asked. 
'Yes,' Eliza affirmed her friend again. 
'Was he rich?' Lucy asked now in a hushed tone. 
'Yes,' Eliza responded solemnly. 
'And he danced with you?' Lucy inquired further. 
'All night,' Eliza told her friend. 
Lucy surveyed her friend for a moment. 
'You are not playing a joke on me, I hope?' she asked, a vaguely suspicious, bemused expression coming on her. 
'No, I swear I am not,' said Lucy 'And I will tell you, in the greatest confidence, that not only did the gentleman in question dance with me all night long, but he kissed me as well.' 
'He kissed you??!!' Lucy squealed now. 
'Hush!!' Eliza commanded her friend, not wishing to have the rest of the household disturbed at their exchange, nor her confidances revealed to them in such a manner either. 
'He kissed you?' Lucy asked again in a lower tone. 
'Yes, he did,' Eliza replied, a smile beginning on her lips 'Until the clock struck midnight.' 
Lucy's jaw dropped. 
'Was it nice?' she asked. 
'Very,' said Eliza. 
'Well that's good, I am glad to hear that it was nice,' said Lucy now, beginning to giggle. 
Eliza couldn't stop herself, she started giggling too. 
‘Yes, I am too,’ she said and they both just collapsed into heaps of giggles for what must have been a quarter of an hour until they regained their senses. 
‘Oh but, Eliza, you must share the identity of your handsome gentleman with me now,’ Lucy told her friend. 
Eliza stopped. As pleasant as it was to share her experiences of the night before with her close friend, Lord Beaufort was a man of great standing and she was sure that Lucy’s credence to her tale would become strained if she revealed his identity to her friend. 
‘I...I don’t know if I can say…’ she said.
‘Not even to me?’ asked Lucy, pouting slightly. 
Eliza looked her friend gravely in the eyes. 
'Well,' Lucy said then 'you don't have to tell me who he was, but if you want my advice...write to him.' 
'Write to him?' asked Eliza, surprised at her friends' advisement.
'Yes,' Lucy said simply 'You are a young lady of good standing, if he is a gentleman of the same and so inclined, perhaps he could be a good match for you. If your parents approved as well, of course.' 
Eliza stared at her friend, unsure how to respond. 
'Well, I must be off,' Lucy said now, adjusting her hat and rising from her seat. 
'It's been lovely, my dear,' she smiled fondly at Eliza, placing her gloved hand on Eliza's cheek. 
Eliza bade her friend farewell. 
When she was left alone in the darkened parlour she thought on what her friend had said. Lord Jonathon Beaufort a match for Eliza? Of course her friend had not known his identity when she had said that, but it was a great party full of men of a similarly high stature and Lucy knew that at least. 
Emma arrived at that moment. 
'Miss Eliza, has your guest gone? What are you doing sitting here on your own in the dark?' she asked. 
Eliza looked up, indeed night had fallen and the parlour was in total darkness. So absorbed had she been in her thoughts of Lord Jonathon Beaufort that she had not noticed.   
Emma was lighting the candelabras when Conor rang a bell at the parlour door. 
‘Supper is served,’ he said. 
Eliza went to sup with her brother. It was a good supper of lamb, creamy mashed potatoes, brussel sprouts served with butter, good wine from the pantry and bread and butter pudding. Eliza's mind was taken away from other matters as she enjoyed it.
When her and Michael's bellies were full of the scrumptious food they ajourned to the parlour for more games of cards. Eliza was decidedly distracted during the games, her mind having returned to the conversation that had taken place just at the table yonder. 
She retired to bed early, Emma tailing after her. As she sat at her boudoir brushing her dark hair until it shone like the finest black silk, Emma readying her bed, she thought more on what Lucy had said. 
As was her usual nightly ritual, she journalled on this night. Tonight, she had a lot to catch up on. When she had returned from the party she was too tired to write more than one line, and so she had the events of the party to record in her leatherbound journal as well as the events of her day. She recorded the fabulous Christmas party, her first one of it's kind, and of the dashing Lord Beaufort. She wrote then about her parents departure this morning, her and her brother being in the house alone, and finally, her confiding in her dear friend Lucy Compton about her dancing and kisses with the handsome lord. By the time she was climbing into her bed, she had decided that the next day she would pen a letter to the handsome lord, telling him how she had had such a wonderful time at the party with him. She was of a family with new money, but it was not unheard of for nobles to ally themselves with such families, and perhaps if the handsome lord knew of her affections he would consider her as a match as Lucy had said. 
Emma bade her goodnight and put out the light's in Eliza's bedroom. Eliza lay in her comfortable bed in the dark, with only her thoughts for company. She thought of what she might put in the letter, what was the most appropriate way to say what she wanted to say...but most of all, she thought of a pair of twinkling dark eyes in a handsome face before the sandman came and put her to sleep. 
                                              
                                                        ***************
Eliza's hands were covered with black ink, the desk covered in balled up pieces of discarded paper. Frustration boiled in her. The right words simply would not come. Try and try as she might, she could not put her feelings into words. She sighed and stared pensively out the glass paned window. The bare branches of the trees made their spindly outline against the cloudy, grey December skies. A layer of icy frost covered everything; the bare trees lining the street, the iron railing and the cobbled pavement of the street itself. Passers-by walked carefully so as not to slip on treacherous patches of ice that had compacted under the footsteps of the pedestrians here and there on the street. Eliza wondered to herself would Lord Beaufort be about on business on a day like this, or at home by his fireplace. She sighed again, and returned to composing her letter. 
"To his esteemed lordship, the Lord Jonathon Beaufort of Beaufort Abbey "
The letter began. Was that too formal? Eliza wondered.  
"Dearest Jonathon..."
That had to be too informal she mused. 
Eliza drummed her fingers on the table. She lifted the nib of the pen to a fresh new piece of paper. 
"To my dearest Lord, Lord Jonathon Beaufort of Beaufort Abbey..."
She began writing. 
"I am hoping that this letter finds you very well indeed....how lucky was I that you chose to dance with me at Lord Mothesley's elegant party, and what a wonderful dancer you are....I still think of our time together in his courtyard....hoping again that you are well....Fondest Regards, Miss Eliza Kelly."
She put down the pen with great satisfaction at having completed the letter. Just then she heard footsteps behind her and Michael's arm reached in over her, grabbing her letter up. 
'Ha! Is this a love letter?!' he cried with glee. 
'No!!' Eliza cried, and tried to grab the letter back off him. 
Michael held her at bay with his other arm while he read her letter to Lord Beaufort. 
He went quiet as he read what she had just written. He let his arm drop and returned the letter to her, his gaze implaceable. 
'Be careful there,' he said quietly. 
Eliza took her letter back, her heart pounding in her chest. Michael chucked her on the chin and left the room, leaving Eliza standing alone with the letter. 
Eliza felt a sadness at her brothers words, but folded up the letter and placed it in an envelope which she sealed with wax. She donned her winter furs and made her way out into the cold London day to drop her letter at the post office, where she paid tuppence for it's delivery to Lord Beaufort's London address. She made her way home, a feeling of elation coming over her at her success. 
She returned home as lunch was being served. She was feeling gay and merry, her brother assumed it was the approaching of the Christmas season. 
The next week passed quickly, with them all preparing for this Christmastide. Their mother and father were due home on Christmas Eve, and she and Michael had to have everything in order by then. They worked together and oversaw a tree be put up and garlands hung in the parlour, a Christmas wreath hung on the front door. They arranged for the Christmas dinner to be brought, the turkey, pheasant, potatoes, brussel sprouts, carrots, Christmas puddings, brandy butter, mince pies and sweet meats to all be arranged. Eliza smiled on the morning of Christmas Eve as Emma hung the Christmas stockings over the fireplace. She and Michael had arranged for gifts for their parents to be bought, which were currently being stored in the attic room upstairs. No doubt their own stockings would hold some presents from Europe. This year promised to be a very Merry Christmas indeed. 
As Eliza dressed in her smartest dress to welcome her parents home, Conor knocked at the door. 
'A letter for you arrived in the post, ma'am,' he said. 
'Yes, just leave it by the door, I will come and get it,' she told him, assuming that it was the beggining of some seasonal greetings. 
When she went to collect it a few moments later, having fully dressed and readied herself for her parents arrival home, she saw that it was written in an unfamiliar hand to her. Frowning, she opened the wax seal. 
'Dear Miss Kelly, 
It was a pleasure to make your aquaintance at Lord Mothesley's Christmas suaree. 
I hope the Christmas season treats you and your family well. 
I am sorry if I misled you as to my intentions towards you, but I am afraid I cannot continue our relationship. In my position I have a duty that goes somewhat beyond the pleasures that mere mortals can partake in, and if it's not too forward for me to do so, I would remind you that a lady of your position has a similar duty also.
Yours sincerely,
Lord Jonathon Beaufort.'
Eliza's felt a strange plummeting sensation that went from her breast all the way to her gut as she finished reading the unexpected letter from Lord Jonathon Beaufort. 
She heard a commotion downstairs, followed by her fathers voice. Her parents had arrived home. There was no time to think of Lord Jonathon Beaufort's words now. She deposited the letter in her room before descending downstairs to greet her parents. 
Her mother and father were unchanged except for a slight colour in their faces when she saw them. Their time on the continent had done them some good, it appeared. 
'Papa,' she greeted her father with a kiss.
'My dear daughter,' her father said warmly. 
'Mama,' she greeted her mother in kind, her mother wrapping her in a fierce maternal embrace. 
After Eliza and Michael were finished with welcoming their parents home they retired to the parlour together where Emma served them some tea and their mother and father, mostly their mother, told them of their time in the sunny climes of Southern Europe, of the rolling hilly terrain and sunny beaches. Eliza smiled as she listened to her mother, quite transported by the descriptions of a place she had never been. It quite took her mind from her worries about Lord Jonathon Beaufort's correspondance. 
Father was in the middle of a very entertaining story of a man with a pet duck on one of the coastal towns of Southern Spain when Conor called for lunch. 
Today it was a haunch of pork served with applesauce, her father's favourite. Whilst eating, Eliza was brought back to another lunch a weèk prior that she had shared only with her brother, after sending a certain correspondance to which the response was sitting upstairs in her bedroom. The funny plummeting sensation in her breast returned. She tried her best to appear normal for her mother and father, chiming in with questions when appropriate and making her way through her slice of pork and applesauce. Towards the end of the meal she could feel her mothers eyes on her. Something must have given her away. She suppressed a frustrated sigh and sipped her glass of wine. She feared that her mother would inquire as to her state of mind and Eliza would have to lie, she could not bear to tell her dear mother the truth. 
For pudding they were served apple pie and cream. By the end Eliza was stuffed and feeling drowsy in her seat at the dining table. It was then that they retired to the parlour. Her father had his usual glass of port. Eliza sat by the fireplace, watching the flames crackle and dance within. She thought of the burnt ember logs in the fire, and how Lord Jonathon Beauforts words had afffected her the same. She felt a burn on her heart at his refusal of her affections. She remembered his twinkling eyes and smiles down at her as they danced the night away. She remembered his passionate kisses in moonlight. And now he had withdrawn his affections so completely. Eliza couldn't understand how anyone could be so cold. She stared sulkily into the fire until her mother interrupted her ruminations: 
'Eliza, is there something the matter, my dear?' her mother asked of her. 
Eliza pulled herself out of her mood, internally chiding herself for forgetting herself so completely in the company of her family. 
'No, mother, I am just full and tired after our meal,' she replied to her mother. 
She could feel Michael's eyes on her as she spoke. 
Her mother surveyed her with narrowed eyes. 
'Very well, you may retire,' she bade her daughter. 
'Goodnight mama, papa, Michael,' she said, rising from her seat. 
'Goodnight,' her father and brother responded en tandem. 
Emma followed her upstairs. 
Eliza re-entered her room, seeing the fateful letter that she had left on her table. Emma helped her out of her dress and into her nightgown after laying the fire. Eliza picked up the letter, re-reading the words that burned. She scrunched it up then, and threw it on the fire where it crinkled up and burned in the flames. She felt a surge of satisfaction at watching the dreadful letter turn to black on the flames. 
'Miss Eliza!!' Emma exclaimed 'Whatever did you do that for?!' 
'Never you mind, Emma,' said Eliza firmly. 
'Has something happened, miss? Did somebody offend you?' Emma inquired, her eyes still on the charred remains of the letter in the fireplace. 
'I said never you mind, Emma!' Eliza snapped. 
Emma stared at her, stunned. Never since Emma had begun working for Eliza had Eliza snapped at her in that way. 
She opened her mouth to apologize to Emma when she heard her mother's voice at the door. 
'What's all this?' 
She nearly jumped. 
Her mother entered the room, surveying it. Her eyes stopped on the charred remains of the letter in the fireplace. She looked into her daughters eyes for a moment. 
'You may leave, Emma,' she bade Eliza's maidservant. 
Emma bobbed her head and hurried out the room. 
Eliza's mother came closer. Eliza felt unable to meet her mother's gaze. 
Her mother crooked her forefinger and raised her daughters chin, looking deep into her daughters eyes. 
'There is something changed in you, my daughter, and I do not think I like it very much,' she said. 
Eliza gulped. 
'Whoever it is that sent you the correspondance that you chose to destroy and caused friction with your staff, you will do well to forget them,' her mother told her 'Remember especially that this is the season for family and merriment, please do not brood again as you did this evening or I will be forced to take harsher measures with your person.'
Eliza gulped again.
'Yes, mother,' she said, making herself as meek and obedient as possible. 
Her mother patted her cheek then. 
'Good girl, I trust the night will pass with no more commotions then,' she said.
'Yes, mother,' Eliza said again. 
Her mother kissed her cheek now and bade her goodnight. 
Eliza sat down at her desk and journalled about the days events, the letter, her parents return and this evening. She was worried, she did not know what had come over her. None of this was like her. She promised herself that she would put Lord Jonathon Beaufort out of her mind. She climbed into bed and forced herself not to think of dancing or moonlight kisses, but rather her family and the season of Christmas that lay ahead and drifted into a peaceful slumber. 
                                                           
                                                                 ************
The Christmas season was a gay and merry one indeed for Eliza and her family. Gifts were exchanged on Christmas morning, Eliza finding a beautiful shell comb in her stocking as well as bon bons from the continent. Her mother was well pleased with the gold locket Michael and Eliza had for her, a picture of them all on the inside. Her brother was delighted with his new deck of cards and her father loved his new woolen socks. 
'They will be perfect for going walking in this weather!' he exclaimed. 
Their Christmas feast was delectable and they all drank rather more wine than was usual. By the time they were playing cards in the parlour they were all very merry indeed. 
They all fell to bed that night, all with new nightclothes as presents from the household staff. When the morning dawned pale and bright the next morning, they saw that there had been snowfall during the night. She was in a delicate state from the night before, but nevertheless Eliza threw on her furs and ran outside, Michael joining her. A snowball fight quickly ensued. Eliza laughed when she hit Michael with one of hers, and squealed when he managed to aim one that grazed her ear. 
'Michael! Eliza! Come in at once!' their mother called sternly from the doorway. 'You will catch pneumonia if you continue as you are!' 
Eliza's extremities were going numb, and she could see that Michael's nose and cheeks were bright pink from the cold. 
'Come, come inside, at once!' their mother bade them again.
Eliza and Michael trunched over through the snow to where there mother awaited. 
'Not to mention that you are both getting a little old for this type of thing,' she said more quietly as they entered their hallway. 
Michael and Eliza exchanged a guilty glance at this. 
They tore of their furs and raced into the parlour to be before the fire. Their father was reading the newspaper in his seat by the fire. He chuckled at the sight of them, snowflakes still in their hair. 
'Take your boots off before entering the parlour, please!' their mother called to them from the upstairs kitchen where she giving arranging the servants to make the St Stephens Day brunch. 
They nearly fell on top of each other as they hurried to do their mothers bidding. Giggling, they corrected themselves and got their boots off, swapping them for fur lined slippers. They went and sat before the fire, warming their hands after the cold snow. Eliza felt like she was in heaven with the heat of the flames warming her up after being outside in the freezing cold. 
‘Don’t know what we’ll do with you two,’ her father said vaguely from his seat ‘Might have to send you to institutions that can correct that type of behaviour.’ 
Eliza and Michael exchanged a glance at this. Their father had been making half-hearted threats to send them away to school for a year now, but yet had to take any action to prove that he meant them. Eliza and her brother smiled. They knew were safe for now. 
The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully enough, Eliza taking up a book she had been reading their luncheon sandwiches and tea. She was engrossed in the story when she heard someone approach. She looked up to see her brother Michael holding something in his hand. 
'I thought you might want to see this,' he said, handing her the weekly newsletter before walking away. Eliza thought she saw a solemn look about him as he turned away from her. She frowned, and examined the newsletter, wondering what was there for her to see. A picture on the page Michael had open jumped out at her. It was of Lord Jonathon Beaufort with a beautiful looking lady beside him. The caption underneath ‘Lord Jonathon Beaufort has announced his engagement to Miss Victoria Swanson’. Eliza read the words again, to make sure that her eyes had not betrayed her. She felt a funny twisting sensation in her gut. She devoured the image, her eyes especially focused on the extremely pretty features of Miss Victoria Swanson. 
All throughout the rest of the day she had strange stabbing sensations in her heart. She did her best to cover it, and participated in the day as much as she could. By evening time they were all tired and simply sat watching the fire in the fireplace whilst Michael played a little on the parlour piano. Eliza forced her thoughts away from the picture and caption in the newsletter while she was with her family, remembering her mothers words from the night before. After another torturous while of disciplining herself to not betray any of the feelings bubbling within she excused herself to go to bed. Even with Emma she dared not give anything away, and struggled internally with her emotions as the maidservant helped her undress and ready for bed. 
That night, when she didn't have to cover up her feelings for anyone anymore, she let herself just cry until she fell asleep with exhaustion. 
The next day she woke up in the pale light of the early morning, her pillow still a little damp with her tears. The fire had died down some time ago and the room was chilly. She could see her breath on the air. She did not really want to move from the warmth of her coverlets, but she was wide awake and did not see herself sleeping again. Moreover, she did not want any more of the dark haired lord and his beautiful lady haunting her dreams. She got out of the bed, and reached for her fur lined dressing gown. She put on the fur lined slippers on her feet and walked over to her window. She could only see snow covered rooftops and icicles on chimneys from this vantage point. She sighed. She spotted her journal on her desk. She had neglected to write the evening before. Taking the seat at her desk, she inked the pen that had been lying by the journal. She held it over the journal paper, as though about to put some words down to it, but she could not quite bring herself to put what she was feeling into her journal and so the ink merely dripped onto the paper. She sighed again and closed the journal over. She mused to herself that not only was her heart still paining after the news yesterday, but she felt something more still….something like….guilt? After all, the announcement of an engagement should be happy news. Shouldn't she be happy for the handsome lord and his beautiful bride-to-be? Yet here she was, and the funny stabbing sensations in her heart continued, the faces of Lord Beaufort and Lady Swanson dancing before her eyes. What was wrong with her? Dancing and some illicit kisses in a courtyard at night and she was in this state? Even a lord....she got up in a huff and walked out of her room. The house was still darkened, day not having broken yet. Eliza was about to make her way to the kitchens and ask for some tea to be brought to her room when she heard Emma's voice behind her.
'Miss, whatever are you doing out of bed at this hour?!' 
A movement down the hall caught Eliza's eye. It was her mother, always the early riser. She stood there at the end of the hall, surveying Eliza silently.  
Emma fussed over Eliza, steering her back to her bedroom arranging for tea to be brought for her and making a fire in the grate. Eliza before the fireplace as the newly lit flames started licking at the wood logs in the grate. The image of Lord Beaufort and Lady Victoria was still imprinted on her mind, her heart still aching in the wake of it. Emma tutted at her pallour, which she noted was paler than usual. Eliza let Emma fuss some more, watching the flames grow as they ate the wooden logs in the fireplace. After she had eaten some of the bread, butter and dried fruit that Emma brought her for her breakfast  she decided that a walk would distract her from her thoughts. She let Emma know her thoughts and Emma helped her dress in her warmest wool dress and petticoat and put on her furlined boots and slippers before venturing out into the cold winters morning. 
'Be careful as you walk, miss!' Emma said warningly to her as she opened the front door 'There can be treacherous ice patches underfoot on mornings like this!' 
'Yes, of course,' Eliza said and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Outside the snow glared white in the morning light. More snowflakes danced in the air as they fell to the ground. Emma sighed at the serenity of the sight. At this hour nobody else was about, the snow was undisturbed on the ground, a blanket of white as far as the eye could see. Emma could feel the tip of her nose starting to get cold and began walking, the compacted snow crunching under her footstep. The streets of London were eerily quiet on this snowy morning, very few were out and about. When she got to the main thoroughfare she saw men at work, shovelling snow off the streets to give carriages clear passage through them. Some of the lanterns along the streets still glowed dimly. She walked along in the snow, getting into her stride when suddenly she felt her foot slip on a patch of ice beneath. She fell heavily to the snow covered ground. 
'Ah, miss, let me help you!' she heard a voice nearby. 
A pair of hands gripped her forearms, helping her right herself. 
She looked up to thank the stranger and saw a pair of familiar dark eyes looking down into hers. She felt a jolt go through her. It was Lord Jonathon Beaufort, the very man she was seeking to escape thoughts of this morning. 
'Miss Kelly, yes?' he said, smiling warmly at her. 
'Yes, it is I,' Eliza responded. 
'Are you alright? You did not hurt yourself in the fall?' Lord Beaufort inquired kindly. 
'I am well, thank you, my lord,' she said. 
He pulled back at her cool response, eyeing her almost warily. 
A million emotions ran through Eliza. It was like a whirlwind inside her mind. She sorted through the scraps of wild thoughts and feelings and eventually summoned the restraint to display the courtesy expected of a young woman of wealth and status. 
'Congratulations on your engagement, Lord Beaufort,' she said to the great lord 'It seems a great match for you.'
She thought she saw his face fall at that, before he doffed his hat and bowed his head to her. 
'My thanks, Miss Kelly,' he said, his head still bowed. 'Now if you will excuse me, I must be on my way. I have business to attend to today.' 
He put his hat back on and strode off then, Eliza watching him go from the street. 
As she watched his figure walk on down the street, she decided that her excursion for today was over and began the walk home. 
The streets were clear now and the plodding sound of horses hooves and rattling of wheels on pavement filled the air. More people were out, wrapped up in furs and business had cleared away the snow from the doors, conducting business as usual even on this snowy day. 
Eliza's face and ears were freezing cold by now and so it was with a brisk pace that she made her way home. 
                                                               ************
Lord Jonathon Beaufort looked behind him before he rounded the corner. Miss Eliza Kelly had gone. Strange, that he should run into her of all people on this morning. He frowned, remembering her polite congratulations on his engagement. He hoped that she had not suffered a disappointment with all this. She was a lovely young lady, it would be such a pity for her to be unduly upset. His frown deepened. Her big doe eyes had not lost their charms. He walked on, the snow crunching underfoot, still thinking about Eliza Kelly's pretty face that had been as cold as the wintry day that was in it. A dramatic change from the warm and inviting young lady of Lord Mothesley's Christmas party. He smiled wryly, remembering her letter. Would that he were a poorer man, a man with less expectations on him, he would have responded with the same warmth and affection. But alas, he was a lord and had a lord's duties attend to. By the time he had received her correspondance he was already negotiating with her father about his engagement to Victoria. He flushed a little at the thought of his future bride, the exquisite blonde was beautiful indeed. But still those doe eyes, alabaster skin, dark hair and rosebud lips played on his mind. He walked through the snow, quite having forgotten his business until he reached the establishment called The Stag’s Head on South Kensington street and remembered his engagement with Lord Montefort there. He shook himself, ridding himself of the thoughts of Miss Eliza Kelly and made his way into the establishment, where Montefort was waiting by the bar for him. 
‘Beaufort! There you are! Thought you’d gotten lost in the snow!’ he said was his cheeky greeting. Montefort was rarely one for formalities.
They ordered glasses of scotch and chose one of the corner tables to have their conversation at. The afternoon passed pleasantly enough. The owner of the establisment had laid a fire, and the room was got increasingly warmer. Jonathon stayed fairly quiet, Montefort doing most of the talking. Despite himself Jonathon's mind still kept wandering back to a certain doe eyed beauty. In his mind he revisited the night of Lord Mothesley's party and the kisses they shared in his courtyard. It took him a little time to realise that Montefort had gone quiet and was watching him. 
'You don't seem yourself today, Beaufort,' Montefort said. 'Is there anything the matter?' 
Jonathon played nervously with his now empty scotch glass. 
'Uhm, ah...well, no....well, except...there might be a....uhm...' Jonathon stuttered, trying to find the right words. 
Montefort cocked his head. 
'This isn't about that girl from the party is it?' he said. 
Jonathon nearly dropped his glass tumbler.
'How did you know about that?' he demanded of Montefort.
'Well you told me,' his friend replied. 
'I did?!' Jonathon asked, aghast. 
'Yes, that very night,' Montefort said now, sounding amused 'You don't remember? I suppose you had had a few glasses by then....' 
Jonathon laughed a little. 
'Yes, I think I had,' he said. 
Montefort sat looking at Jonathon. 
'So about the girl...?' he prompted his friend.
Jonathon started. 
'Oh, well, it's nothing really....' Jonathon trailed off. 
'It can't be nothing if it has you like this,' Montefort said gently. 
'Well, I saw her this morning,' Jonathon told his friend.
'This morning?!' Montefort exclaimed. 
'Yes,' Jonathon replied, fidgeting with his jacket now. 
'Well how was she?' asked Montefort. 
'She was....cool,' said Jonathon. 
'Cool?' asked Montefort disconcertedly. 
'She has heard about Victoria,' Jonathon said.
'Well, yes, of course she has,' Montefort said then 'But you are concerned about this?' 
Jonathon couldn't contain himself anymore. 
'I am, I am concerned...the thing is I haven't quite gotten her off my mind since the night of the party. And now, seeing her today...it's 10 times worse. I don't know what's come over me, and now I have Victoria too...' he trailed off again.
Montefort was watching him closely. 
'Well, my old friend, I am afraid there is only one thing to do about it,' he said. 

                                                           **********

Eliza ripped open the envelope that had just come in the mail after Emma handed it to her. A picture of a mask was emblazoned on the card she was looking at. 
''You are cordially invited to a Masked Ball to celebrate the New YEar at 21 Arlington Street at 9pm on Thursday, December 31st. Come dressed in clever disguise!' 
Yours Sincerely,
Lord Henry Hudson. 
Eliza's heart beat quickened as she read the invitation. A masked ball! She was floating with excitement. Masks and elegant dresses and dancing...she twirled on the spot. 
'Emma, we must at once to the dressmakers!' Eliza commanded the maidservant. 
They dressed for the cold and were on their way to Madame Aldridge’s shop, the place where Eliza had taken to going for all her dressing needs. 
It had not been snowing as heavily in the past few days, and so the streets of london were only lightly dusted with snow. They reached Madame Aldridge's shop in no time after walking at a fast pace. There were dresses of the newest fashion and masks in the window. 

When Eliza entered Madam Aldridge, a skinny woman with brown hair streaked with white pulled back into a bun atop the crown of her head bustled over in her skirts to greet her regular customer. 
'Miss Kelly, how are we today?' asked the older woman. 
'I am well, thank you,' Eliza responded and told the older woman of her invitation at which the older woman clapped her hands and exclaimed with delight. 
'A masked ball!' she said, her eyes shining 'We must find you the perfect dress, the perfect mask....'
Madam Aldridge brought a selection of dresses for Eliza to try on of all colours, rose and gold trim, purple and silver, grey and white feathers...finally Eliza stood before the ornate mirror in the shop in a dress of deep blue and green, the back of the skirt designed like the feathers of a peacock. Madam Aldridge clapped her hands again and went to the back of the shop, returning with a dark blue mask and headpiece adorned with peacock feathers. Eliza took the mask and put it on, Madame Aldridge fixing the headpiece on. She stood back and both she and Eliza gazed in the mirror at the result of their efforts. The effect was very striking. She looked both exotic and alluring in her peacock dress and matching mask and headpiece. Eliza looked both exotic and alluring in her peacock dress and matching mask and headpiece. It would be perfect for the ball. Eliza beamed at Madame Aldridge, who returned the smile. Eliza gave a twirl in the dress and Madame Aldridge and Emma both laughed at her display. She had Emma pay Madame Aldridge for the dress, mask and headpiece and they made their way home. 
The following week seemed to stretch on forever. Eliza nearly constantly gazed at the dress that was now hanging in her wardrobe and wistfully took the mask from it's place on her boudoir, running her fingers over it until Emma would catch her, chiding her for her lack of patience. 
Finally the day of the ball arrived, and Eliza jumped out of bed. All day she was bursting with excitement, driving her poor mother and father to distraction. Only Michael teasing her a little meanly about being too enthusiastic to dress as an oversized bird managed to dampen her hightened spirits at the prospects of the masked ball. Then, finally, evening fell and it was time for her to prepare and dress for the ball. Emma clucked about her as she dressed, criticizing Mr Michael's sharpness of tongue, but Eliza wasn't worried about that anymore. She knew her dress was splendid and she was sure to make waves in it at the ball. When she was dressed once more she surveyed herself in the mirror. 
'Very fashionable,' she heard Michael's voice from the door, she turned to give him a dazzling smile. 
'The carriage is read, Miss Eliza,' Emma said. 
Eliza had feelings of such nervous anticipation in her gut that she felt nearly sick with it. Michael courteously escorted her downstairs where her mother and father waited to bade her goodbye before the ball. 
'Resplendant!' her father boomed as she descended the stairs. 
'You look ravishing!' her mother cried. 
Eliza smiled and curtsied slightly before her parents came over and kissed her under her mask. 
'You must do our family proud tonight,' her mother said to her. 
'Mama, it's a masked ball, nobody will know who I am!' she protested. 
'Phaw!' her mother said 'No costume is as good as all that!' 
She kissed her daughters cheek one last time before Eliza left the house and descended the steps to the waiting carriage and Conor, who helped her up into it. 
Her family in the house called after her, waving, wishing her a good time. She smiled and waved before Conor closed the carriage door. Only a moment later the carriage master shook the reins and the horses began cantering along, pulling Eliza in the carriage behind them. Eliza got jostled a fair amount on the trip, having to put her hands out to steady herself and adjust her headpiece. 
Finally the carriage stopped, and Eliza heard the driver alight from his perch to open her door. He gave her a hand, helping her out. Eliza gazed up at 21 Arlington Street. The house was all lit up and there were the silhouettes of many people in grand dress in the windows. A footman came to help her up the steps in her great gown. 
On entering Arlington place, she found that there were many people about, all bedecked in fine dresses of all colours and masks and headpieces to match. A man servant led her to a ballroom, where the guests were dancing. She entered and heads began to turn her way, people muttering to the person next to them at the sight of Eliza in her peacock dress. She moved forward, people stepping out of the way. Eliza felt nervous, all eyes in the room seemed to be on her. She was grateful for the mask that obscured her true identity. The crowd continued to part in her wake, and at it's center Eliza saw a man, dressed all in black with a black mask over his eyes. Eliza stopped at the sight of him, he heart racing. Who was the mystery man? He walked over and took her hand and kissed it. Eliza's heart was pounding in her dress. The man stood and gesturned to the dance floor. Eliza, taking his meaning to dance, nodded her head in aqueisance to his unspoken request. He led her silently to the floor. The musicians struck up and they began to dance. Eliza saw two dark eyes smouldering at her from behind the mask. Were those eyes familiar? She had been out in the London scene for many months now, so she supposed it could be anyone of the men she had met in that time.