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 until 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  and the one little triangle of creamy flesh revealed under her chemise nightgown. 
'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 ten yards 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 at the sound.  
'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 moonlit coastline as he had seen before. 
'Aaaaah-aaah-aaaaaaaaah...' the song came more clearly now. It seemed to be coming, impossibly, from beyond the headland. 
Jonathon felt the melody tug at him, pulling him towards it...
'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 gave him 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 its 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 its 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. 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. She 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.
Just then he felt someone touch lightly on his arm. He turned to see a young lady with an oval face, red rose bud lips and dark hair styled in the way women do at these events. 
'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 down 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 alluring 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 his name as he re-entered the room. 
He turned, it was Lord Rothesby. 
'There you are, where did you get to, eh?' he asked 'Not off with some lassie, I hope!' 
Lord Rothesby said it in jest, but Jonathon felt a jolt and turned around to see that Eliza Kelly was gone. He found himself smiling slightly. 
Rothesby 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. 
Rothesby took Jonathon 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 over to an older, richly dressed gentleman. 
'This is Lord Edward Swanson, Edward, this is Lord Jonathon Beaufort,' 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. Her mother who had chaperoned her had reprimanded her for disappearing, but it had been well worth it. 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 into the room with a tray for Eliza's breakfast. 
'I reckoned you would fancy taking your breakfast up here, after your soiree 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, before his father had made his fortune. 
As Emma was tying her dress up there came a knock on the door. 
'Miss Eliza?' came the voice of Conor, the young manservant of the household. 
Emma went to open the door. 
'The carriage has arrived for Mr and Mrs Kelly, they wish to bid their daughter farewell before they depart for the continent,' 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 already 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 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 disappeared around the corner. Then it was just the two of them. They stood awkwardly on the top of the stone steps 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 wearing a smart cream and peach striped dress suit. Her burnished copper curls hung over her shoulders, a brown hat placed jauntily 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. 
Michael, 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 everything,' 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 interrupted when Eliza reached that part.
Eliza blushed. 
'Yes,' she affirmed. 
'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 Eliza, a little smugly '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 confidences 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 of 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 advice.
'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, following her to the door and seeing her off. 
When she was left alone in the darkened parlour she thought on what her friend had said. Could Lord Jonathon Beaufort be a match for Eliza? Of course her friend had not known his identity when she had given Eliza that advice, but it was a great party full of men of a similarly high stature and Lucy had known 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 Michaels' bellies were full of the scrumptious food they adjourned 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. 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 its kind, and of the dashing Lord Beaufort. She wrote then about her parents departure this morning, she and her brother being in the house alone, and finally, 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 lights 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 would not come. 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 and taking it from her. 
'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 implacable. 
'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  post box down the road. After that 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 herself, Michael and the household servants 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 bought, the turkey, pheasant, potatoes, brussel sprouts, carrots, Christmas puddings, brandy butter, mince pies and turkish delight to 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. Eliza expected 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 beginning 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. Frowning, she opened the wax seal. 
'Dear Miss Kelly, 
It was a pleasure to make your aquaintance at Lord Mothesley's Christmas gathering. 
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. 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. 
Eliza and Michael finished with welcoming their parents home and they all retired to the parlour together where the household servants 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 gentle rolling hills and sunny shores there. 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 apple sauce, her father's favourite. Whilst eating, Eliza was reminded of 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 apple sauce. 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 full 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 affected her. She felt a burn on her heart the same as one of the logs on the fire 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 together. 
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 had burned her so. 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 curl up and turn to black on the fire. 
'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 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 Emma, 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 disciplinary measures with you.'
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 with those comforting thoughts in mind 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 delicious 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 into bed that night wearing the new night clothes they had received as presents from the household staff. When the morning dawned pale and bright, they arose to find that there had been snowfall during the night. Eliza was in a delicate state from the night before, but nevertheless she 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 off their furs and raced into the parlour to be before the fire. Their father was reading the newspaper in his chair 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 orders to the servants to arrange the St Stephen's 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 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 good schools 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 after 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 Lady 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 with her eyes, especially focused on the extremely pretty features of Lady 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 write, 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? 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?!' 
Just then 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 Eliza's pallor, 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 she ventured out into the cold winter 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. The snow glared white in the morning light. More snowflakes danced in the air as they fell to the ground. Eliza 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. Eliza could feel the tip of her nose starting to get cold, she 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!' Eliza 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 when speaking to her betters. 
'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.
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 as she had written to him. 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 Lord Edward Swanson about his engagement to the lord's daughter, 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 found himself outside the establishment called The Stag’s Head on South Kensington street and remembered his engagement with Lord Rothesby there. He shook himself, ridding himself of the thoughts of Miss Eliza Kelly and made his way into the establishment, where Rothesby was waiting by the bar for him. 
‘Beaufort! There you are! Thought you’d gotten lost in the snow!’was his cheeky greeting. Rothesby 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 establishment had laid a fire, and the room got increasingly warmer as the afternoon wore on. Jonathon stayed fairly quiet, Rothesby 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 Rothesby had gone quiet and was watching him. 
'You don't seem yourself today, Beaufort,' Rothesby 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. 
Rothesby 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 Rothesby.
'Well you told me,' his friend replied. 
'I did?!' Jonathon asked, aghast. 
'Yes, that very night,' Rothesby said now, sounding amused 'You don't remember? I suppose you had had a few glasses of Lord Mothesley's fine port by then....' 
Jonathon laughed a little. 
'Yes, I think I had,' he said. 
Rothesby sat looking at Jonathon. 
'So...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,' Rothesby said gently. 
'Well, I saw her this morning,' Jonathon told his friend.
'This morning?!' Rothesby exclaimed. 
'Yes,' Jonathon replied, fidgeting with his jacket now. 
'Well how was she?' asked Rothesby. 
'She was....cool,' said Jonathon. 
'Cool?' asked Rothesby disconcertedly. 
'She has heard about Victoria,' Jonathon said.
'Well, yes, of course she has,' Rothesby 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 ten times worse. I don't know what's come over me, and now I have Victoria to think of...' he trailed off again.
Rothesby 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 William Mothesby." 
Eliza's heart beat quickened as she read the invitation. A masked ball! She was bursting 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 Madame Aldridge 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 of all colours for Eliza to try on, 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 striking. She 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 before the ball 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 its 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 heightened 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 ready, 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 cried as she descended the stairs. 
'You look ravishing!' her mother exclaimed. 
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 coach man shook the reins and the horses began trotting 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 fix her headpiece back into place. 
Finally they arrived, the carriage stopping outside a three story brick townhouse, 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 the finest dresses of all colours and masks and headpieces to match, the gentlemen in dress coats and masks as well. A man servant led her to a ballroom, where the guests were dancing in a swirl of colour and glittering finery. 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 its 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 this man all dressed in black? It seemed that the whole room stopped for an instant. The man walked over to Eliza, took her hand and kissed it. Eliza's heart was pounding in her breast. 
'Would you care to dance?' he asked her in a low, husky voice. 
'Yes, certainly,' was Eliza's response. 
The man led her silently to the floor. The musicians struck up and they began to dance. Eliza saw two dark eyes smouldering down 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. She felt a thrill run through her, she was dancing at a masked ball with a mystery man! She looked into his dark eyes once more. They did seem so familiar. Then the dance ended and the dancers broke up to clap. 
Eliza turned, the man was gone. She looked around wildly. She hadn't even gotten to thank him for the dance and now he had vanished into thin air it seemed. She felt an hand on her arm and turned. 
'May I have this dance, my lady?' a man dressed in a blue suit and mask asked her. 
She looked around again, but the mystery man was still nowhere to be seen.  
Well, she might as well still have some fun while she was at it.
'Yes, I will dance with you,' she said to the gentleman in blue. 
He put one hand on her waist and took her left hand in his and they began to dance to the waltz that the musicians struck up. They had been dancing for sometime, Eliza still wondering where her mystery man had gotten to, and he spoke:
'Do you really not recognize me?' the man asked in a tone of disbelief, he sounded almost hurt. 
Eliza looked more closely. 
'Michael!' she exclaimed, on recognizing his familiar features that she could see under his mask. 
Her brother rolled his eyes. 
'But what are you doing here?' Eliza asked of him. 
'I am here to keep an eye on you,' he said. 
Eliza rankled slightly at having a babysitter when she was out at such a grand party, but she pushed those feelings away. She loved her big brother and enjoyed dancing the next few dances with him, all thought of the mystery man gone. Finally they stopped, Eliza quite breathless from all the dancing. 
She and Michael took a break, heading to the refreshment room where they drank some champagne and ate bon bons. 
'Who was the man who danced with you earlier?' Michael asked. 
Eliza started at her brothers direct question, nearly choking on her champagne. 
'I don't know,' she replied honestly. 
Michael looked at her quizzically. 
'You don't know?' he asked. 
'Well he was wearing a mask,' Eliza said defensively. 
Michael let it drop, taking another sip of his champagne. 
For a moment the crowd in the room parted, and Eliza saw the mystery man standing over on the other side of the room, then he was lost in a milieu of costumed guests once more. Eliza strained her head to see if she could see the mystery man again. Just then a woman in a purple and gold dress with an extravagant gold headpiece and white and purple hand-held mask came up to her. 
'Eliza, it's me, Lucy!' she said, taking the mask away from her face 'Oh isn't this fun!' 
'Lucy!' Eliza cried 'But how did you know who I am?' 
'Oh I met Michael earlier,' Lucy explained nodding to Eliza's brother. 
Lucy grabbed Eliza's arm then. 
'But who was that man you danced with at the beginning of the ball?' she asked. 
'Excuse me,' Michael excused himself and took his leave from them, clearly not wanting to be party to women's talk. 
'Well, who was he?' asked Lucy again once Michael had left. 
'I don't know,' Eliza admitted, feeling like she had somehow failed her friend for not being able to supply the identity of the mystery man. 
'You don't know?!' Lucy exclaimed 'Well how marvellously intriguing!' 
Eliza smiled at her friends enthusiasm. Lucy always knew how to inject some fun into everything.
'Come, we must find your masked man!' Lucy said, grabbing Eliza by the arm before she could protest. 
Lucy led Eliza through the masked guests of the ball, in search of the man in black that Eliza had danced with. As they looked for him in the crowd it suddenly seemed like there were many men in black, at least many black eye masks and even black dress coats the same as the one she had danced with wore. They would never find him in all this. 
Eliza broke away from Lucy.
'It's no good, Lucy! We won't find him like this!' she said in exasperation. 
'You won't find who?' asked a voice from behind her. 
'Oh!' Lucy exclaimed, her hand going to her mouth. 
Eliza turned to see her mystery man standing there. 
'Oh!' she said herself. 
The man's lips curved into a smile. She felt heat rise in her cheeks and dropped her gaze. She felt him take her hand. 
'Please, my lady, will you take a walk with me?' he asked in his low, husky tone. 
'Well, erm...why, yes, of course....' Eliza stammered her reply. 
The man smiled again. Eliza felt her cheeks heat even more. 
He started leading her away, Eliza looked back to Lucy who had an expression of consternation on her face, shrugging, letting her friend know she didn't know what the man was doing either. 
He led her through the crowd, until they reached a little antechamber. Eliza felt her stomach doing somersaults and found herself wondering where her brother had gotten to. 
'Do you really not recognize me?' her mystery man asked. 
'Why, no, I do not,' Eliza replied and then upon looking closer said : 'Unless you're...you're not though, you can't be...'
'Can't be....?' the man in black asked throatily. 
Eliza dropped her gaze and when she looked back up, the man was removing his mask. 
She gasped when the mask came off. Her mystery man was none other than Lord Jonathon Beaufort, and he was gazing at her with a deep fire blazing in his eyes.
Eliza swallowed and felt herself grow suddenly warmer under that gaze.  
'Eliza, my dear, I was hoping that you would see through my ruse, that some part of you would know my true identity,' he said huskily. 
Eliza gulped. 
'I...I'm sorry...I didn't...' she stammered, unsure what to do or say. 
He chuckled softly.  
'My dear Eliza, you have nothing to apologize for,' he said and pulled a lock of her hair from under her headpiece, winding it gently in his fingers. 
Eliza felt herself melting at his touch. 
He pulled her mask off gently and leaned in, kissing her softly on the lips with a growing intensity. 
Eliza started finding it difficult to breathe, she pulled away. 
'Wait, stop, I can't...' she said breathily. 
She ran from the antechamber back to the party, placing her mask back on her. 
'Eliza!' she heard Michael call to her and saw him standing next to a lady in a gold mask with what looked like a fruit basket on her head. 
'It's almost the countdown to midnight!' he called, walking over towards her. 
Eliza started. With all the excitement of her mystery man aka Lord Beaufort she had nearly forgotten the reason she was really here. To invite the New Year in in style. 
Serving men were handing out glasses of champagne and people were gathering around the old grandfather clock in Lord Mothesley's hall, many of them lining up the stairway and crowded around the doors from the rooms around onto the hallway. Eliza and Michael exchanged a smile. The anticipation was building in the house. Lord Mothesley himself appeared at the top of the stairs. He had on a fine dress coat and bird mask, Eliza would not have known who he was only for the serving man who announced him. 
'Lord Mothesley wishes to address his guests this New Years Eve!' 
And with that the serving man ran off, Eliza presumed to attend to his other duties in the house. 
'My dear guests one and all,' Lord Mothesely began 'It is 5 minutes until we leave the year 1861 and enter 1862!' 
The guests gave a great cheer. 
'Four minutes,' Lord Mothesley corrected himself, checking his pocket watch.
His guests chuckled at his laconic humour. 
'My dear lords, ladies and gentleman thank you all for gracing my house with your presence this evening, I trust that you have been fed and entertained well.'
With those words there was a cheer from the guests. 
Eliza started then at the sight of Lord Beaufort standing on the stairs close to Lord Mothesly back in his mask again and staring straight at her. 
Beside her Michael seemed to catch sight of the lord in costume staring at his sister also, and looked back and forth between them, trying to make sense of the situation. 
'And now, the time has come!' Lord Mothesley announced grandly 'Please join me in welcoming the New Year in! Ten...nine...eight....'
'SEVEN....SIX....FIVE....FOUR....!!' everyone was chanting as the little hand on the clock ticked until the minute hand struck 12. 
'Who is that man staring at you, sister?' Michael asked her urgently. 
'I'll tell you later,' said Eliza, hoping Michael would have forgotten by then. 
'ONE!!!!' the crowd in the house bellowed. 
Eliza embraced her brother fiercely. 
'Happy New Year, brother,' she said to him.
'Happy New Year, sister,' he replied, grinning and grabbing her up in another great hug. 
As he hugged her, she could see Lord Beaufort still staring at her from the stairs, still in the middle of all the chaos of people cheering and hugging to celebrate the turn of the year. She felt a shiver run through her, a sense of forboding at what this new year would bring. 
                             
                                                             ***********

Jonathon stood watching as the carriage Eliza and her brother had gotten in pulled away from the town house. 
'She's a pretty one, eh?' came Lord William Mothesley's voice from behind him.
Jonathon turned.
'Yes, pretty,' he said, his thoughts going back to her pulling away from him earlier on. 
Mothesley chuckled. 
'Eyes like that would put the devil in any man,' he said. 
'Yes, I'm afraid so,' Jonathon responded somewhat despondently. 
Mothesley offered him a cigarette from his jacket pocket. Jonathon took it, Mothesley holding out his silver lighter, the small flame lighting the end of the cigarette. Jonathon inhaled the nicotine infused smoke.  The smoke filled up his lungs and he exhaled. At this moment it was exactly what he needed. 
'So, what do you think you'll do about it?' Mothesley asked him. 
Jonathon took another puff of the cigarette. 
'I don't know,' he said 'I think maybe I will write to her.'
He saw Mothesley's eyebrows go up. 
'Well it's not too late,' Mothesley said 'You can always break off an engagement.' 
Jonathon looked sharply to Mothesley. Eliza had such an alluring beauty, but Victoria was both beautiful and the daughter of a wealthy peer, not a mere businessman. The match was a much better one for a man of his wealth and standing in society. 
'Well, yes,' he said, nonchalantly.
'My dear fellow! Have you gone cold on Miss Kelly already!' Mothesley exclaimed. 
Jonathon laughed. 
'Not quite, I'm afraid,' he said ruefully, still thinking of Eliza's doe eyes as they melted under his passion this very evening.
They both laughed now. 
'So, what are you going to do?' Mothesly asked again. 
'Well, I think there's only one thing I can, really,' Jonathon replied. 
                                                            
                                                                  ***********
Eliza re-read the letter from Lord Jonathon Beaufort in her hands again in disbelief. But there was no mistaking the ardour for her in his words, even the writing seemed to get scrawly here and there, as if he had been overcome with passion as he wrote it. She still could not believe it. She knew he had had an interest in her, of course, but he, a great lord in love with her?! The daughter of an Irish businessman?! And not only that, but one who was engaged to a beautiful lady?! It was such a flattery to her vanity that she could scarcely believe it to be true. She had to re-read the letter again. Just as she did it was snatched out of her hands. She turned to see her brother there, holding the letter up triumphantly. 
'Aha! What's this...a love letter?' he cried jubilantly. 
Eliza moved to take the letter back but Michael easily held her at bay with one arm, and read the letter. He went still there, and his arm holding Eliza away loosened as his eyes ran over the words on the paper. He looked up to his sister. 
'Who is this, who's writing to you like this?' he demanded, and scanned down to the bottom of the letter to see Lord Jonathon Beaufort's signature scrawled there. Michael's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he gave a yelp of surpise.   
'Lord Jonathon Beaufort's in love with you!' he exclaimed 'But it can't be!' 
'What's all this? What's all this racket in my house?' Eliza's mother said, appearing at her open bedroom door.  
Eliza and her brother fell silent at their mother's appearance, who saw the letter in Michael's hand. She walked over and took it from him. 
Eliza's heart was pounding in her chest at her mother taking the letter she had received from Lord Beaufort. 
Her mother read the letter, her face paling as she did. When she finished she looked once to Eliza and then to Michael. 
'Michael, you may leave,' she told her son curtly, before turning to her daughter. 
'Now, I think a cup of tea is in order,' she said.  
Eliza was taken aback, expecting a response more severe than an invitation to tea from her mother. 
Her mother called Emma. 
'Emma, do you know where Mr. Kelly is?' she asked the girl.
'He is in his study,' Emma responded.
'Very well,' said Mrs. Kelly 'Eliza and I will take tea in the parlour.' 
'Yes, ma'am,' said Emma running to the kitchens to get some tea. 
'Eliza, will you join me?' her mother asked. 
'Certainly, mother,' Eliza said.
Her mother smiled warmly at her and they made their way down to the parlour, Emma already had some tea and cups out. They took their seats and Emma began pouring the tea. 
'Now, Eliza, dear,' her mother began 'It is time for us to begin talking about your future prospects.' 
'My future prospects?' Eliza repeated. 
'Yes,' her mother responded 'You have been in London society for about a year now, have you met any prospective suitors?'
'Uh...I....I don't know if I....' Eliza stammered. 
'Lord Jonathon Beaufort has recently become engaged to Lady Victoria Swanson, yes?' her mother asked her. 
'Yes,' Eliza responded, her heart hammering against her ribcage. 
'And so whatever has been or is between the two of you, he is no longer an eligible suitor,' Eliza's mother said sternly 'Your father and I can help you find someone who is unattached, and free to take you as a wife.' 
Her mother finished, smiling as if this was good news for Eliza. Eliza supposed it was, but imminent marriage on top of the letter from Lord Beaufort was a lot for one afternoon. She took a full gulp of the tea before her. 
Her mother took a sip also. 
They sat in silence then, Eliza mulling over what had been said, but her mind was constantly pulled back to Jonathon's letter. Could she really abandon a man who claimed to feel so much for her? Then again, Jonathon himself was engaged. And so her mind was set. 
However, after she and her mother had finished tea and she had returned to her room upstairs the first thing she did was take out his letter and re-read it again. He had signed it 'Your most ardent admirer'. Eliza sighed. A handsome lord was wooing her, but she was to be engaged to another. Eliza sighed again, and stuck the letter in the bottom drawer of her desk. She would think of Jonathon Beaufort no more, and set her sights to her own future. 
                                                          
                                                             **********
Lord Jonathon Beaufort paced his study. It had been over a week since he had written to the lovely Miss Eliza Kelly, and no reply. His insides boiled with frustration. Hadn't she gotten it? How could she have gotten it and not responded? How could she resist the passion he felt for her? Perhaps she was taking time to form a response. Yes, perhaps she was spending all her days writing, trying to put to words her own love for him. He calmed down instantly at the thought. 
Just then there was a knock at the door. His fiancee, Lady Victoria Swanson, entered the room immediately after. It was strange to Jonathon that after a relatively short time of knowing each other that he and his betrothed could be so familiar to each other. 
'I am not interrupting anything, I hope?' Victoria asked sweetly. 
Jonathon felt a rush of affection for his bride to be. 
'Of course not, my dear, is there anything I can help you with this afternoon?' he asked her fondly, taking her hand in his. 
'Oh, no, I just wanted to see my dearest,' said Victoria, fluttering her eyelashes at him in a way that made his heart beat faster in his chest. 
'My dear Victoria,' said Jonathon, embracing his lovely blonde fiancee. 
'Oh Jonathon,' Victoria whispered in his ear. 
He couldn't help himself, he kissed her, all thought of Eliza Kelly gone. 
'No, we musn't,' Victoria protested, breaking away from him 'We are not married yet.'
Jonathon pulled back, respecting his fiancee's propriety. 
'Indeed, madam,' he said, cooling off considerably from what was passion but a minute before. 
The dinner bell rang. 
'Lady Victoria, will you join me for dinner?' he asked her, holding out his hand formally. 
'Certainly, Lord Jonathon,' she replied.
And with that they went hand in hand down to dinner.  

                                                               **********

Eliza stood looking in her long mirror in her bedroom after another meeting with a potential suitor that her parents had arranged. This was one Mr Vincent Browne, whose father was a wealthy landowner in Sussex. Eliza sighed. He wasn't bad, quite good looking and charming too, but something about the thought of spending the rest of her life with just one person could dim the looks of the best looking man and take from the charms of the most charming man. She sat down at her desk and nearly reached down to the bottom drawer where she had deposited a certain letter. Fingers itching she was almost reaching down to retrieve the letter when she was rudely interrupted by Emma entering in with more wood for the fire. 
Eliza began to feel restless. Her future looming ahead of her had put her on an edge in recent times, not to mention certain other things that she was pushing out of sight and out of mind. She looked outside, it was sunny day in early February. The time since the festive season of Christmas and the masked ball seemed to have flown by, she had been busy with meeting the prospective suitors her parents chose for her. Her dear mother and father seemed like they were quite set on marrying her off within the next year if they could. Eliza sighed and ruefully thought of the letter that had begun all this, the letter that was sitting in the bottom drawer of her desk.
Just then her mother entered the room. 
‘Eliza, do hurry, we are to Church this afternoon and we would like not to be late!’ her mother said in a commanding tone. 
Eliza jumped up and Emma began to help her ready for Church. She met her family downstairs when she was all dressed. They walked to the Church together, it’s steeple that soared up against a grey, cloudy sky a beacon for them. 
The interior of the church was grim and grey, apart from the brilliant colours of the stained glass windows, each depicting biblical scenes. 
The congregation of people dressed in their Sunday finest were taking their seats as Eliza and her family entered the church and they did the same. 
The vicar took his place behind the lectern and commenced the sermon.
Eliza sat beside her mother, listening attentively and only fidgeting a little. 
Then came the banns of marriage. Eliza felt her heart sink in her chest as she heard the vicar read out:
‘Lord Jonathon Beaufort and Lady Elizabeth Swanson intend to wed on the 2nd of the month of April, let it be known so that any impediment to the marriage may be declared forthwith.’
Eliza felt her heart break in her chest. Suddenly it was like all the colour had drained from the world, that the world around her was a dull lifeless place, devoid of any hope or happiness. 
The mass came to a close, and Eliza exited the church with her family. Her mother stopping to chat with people she knew on the way. Eliza felt as though everything was suddenly muted and could take no pleasure even in meeting Lucy Crompton outside the church.
The next few weeks passed like that. She met some more suitors. She had a second meeting with Mr Vincent Browne, who seemed to have taken a liking to her. All of this she experienced as though there was a veil between her and the rest of the world. Everything seemed muted, the colour had drained from everything around her. Her heart ached in her breast every moment of every day. Finally there came nights when she cried and cried, enduring each day as she was was unbearable. 
One day, her brother came to her, and asked her what the matter was. Her dear, kind brother asked her why she was not herself recently and she told him. And he hugged her close as she cried and cried. She begged him for help, for help to get away from here. He gave her some of the credits he had earned working with their father. She kissed him on the cheek and called him her hero. 
That night, when the whole house was quiet, Eliza snuck out with a packed bag. She couldn't stand London anymore, maybe she would come back someday, but she needed a different scene. Even with men like Mr Vincent Browne around, she couldn't stand being in the city where she had been in love with someone and he with her only for it all to end like this any longer. 
She found a coach man around the corner, and paid him some of her credits to take her to the docks.He looked at her and then to the credits she had handed him, then harrumphed and helped her up. 
The carriage trundled along until the river Thames came into view, where Eliza boarded a ship that would sail to the North Sea and on to mainland Europe, where she would stay until her heart had mended in those sunny climes.
On board the ship, Eliza said goodbye to London and thought tearfully of the family she was leaving behind. She had left them a note explaining herself, and she hoped that they would understand. 
It was her first time on a ship and she was overcome with seasickness for the first few days. By the time she was over her sickness they were out to see and on the way to the English port of Calais. She finally made it out of the single room she occupied on the ship and went into the lower deck to find some rations to eat. One of the sailors provided her with some dried bread and ale. As the night wore on the sailors came below decks, making way into their ale casks and becoming rowdier and rowdier. Eliza escaped the lower deck to the upper, to get away from the noise and smell of so much ale. She drew a breath as she emerged onto the deck of the ship. The salty smell of the sea water that surrounded them filled her nostrils. The ship swayed up and down on the waves, Eliza walked in the rolling gait of someone who had grown their sea legs over to the stern. The stars twinkled in the sky above and there was a waxing moon shining onto the black night waters. Eliza took it all in, feeling somehow at peace even with the loneliness of being at sea and leaving a whole life behind.  Her heart ached in her breast as she thought of her family and her lost love. Just then she heard a noise from behind her as some sailors emerged from the lower decks. She could tell from the look of them that they were drunk. 
'There you are, pretty girlie,' one of them growled, grinning at Eliza.
Eliza felt herself freeze in panic, there was three of them and only one of her. Her thoughts started racing, she couldn't run past three of them, she would surely not be fast enough. Behind her was the stern and the open ocean. 
'Come on now, don't be shy,' the same sailor growled again, as the three of them moved in on her. 
Eliza's heart started racing in panic. There was nowhere for her to run, without even thinking about it, she was jumping overboard the ship into the cold waters of the English Channel. 
Water rushed in around Eliza as she plummeted deep into it. She couldn't see anything. It was freezing, icy cold and pitch black all around her. Eliza felt terror seep in, she would soon drown or die of the cold unless she could reach the surface. She tried to swim upwards, but her arms only flailed about, the weight of her dress was dragging her under. Eliza struggled but could swim no further than where she was. She tried pulling at her dress, trying as hard as she could to get it off before it pulled her down further. She kicked off her boots, instantly becoming lighter. Her chest started hurting and black patches appeared in her vision as she tried to get free from the dress weighing her down. Now it was like her chest was on fire, and she hadn't the strength to struggle anymore...she felt herself on the brink of losing conciousness when suddenly she felt something huge and slimy wrap itself around her whole body. A giant tentacle? Eliza was only barely conscious, she thought she must be dreaming. The tentacle started pulling her. It all felt so real, then suddenly the tentacle pulled her up and out of the water. Oxygen! Eliza gasped in the air in relief. The tentacle put her down on a rock that was cropping up out of the ocean. She looked around and saw that there was land in the distance, what must be Northern France. Eliza lay on the rock, aware that the waters around it were turbulent, the creature that had placed her here was retreating from the rock. She would have felt terror, only it had just saved her, so it must be a friend. She looked up, and saw an enormous creature with a bulbous head, its tentacles waving about it. The water sloshed over the rock that it had laid Eliza on. Eliza was wet and freezing. Suddenly, all about her, more creatures of the deep began to appear. She saw a giant creature with claws like a crab and a sea snake weave its way through the waves. The giant tentacled creature was still waving it tentacles, almost gently about her. Eliza watched in amazement as the creature reached out one of the tentacles to stroke her. At the creatures touch Eliza felt any number of feelings bubble up within her, she felt the loneliness being far from home, from having the city of London spoiled for her by a heartbreak. The creatures began making sounds like a song, echoing Eliza's loneliness and heartache back to her. They sang a desperate song of alienation, of being cut off from the world. Eliza lifted her head, and felt tears run down her already wet cheeks. The creatures kept singing, Eliza still freezing sitting on the rock, listening to their lonely song that reflected her own feelings so perfectly. Then suddenly, Eliza felt warm! She felt a strange tingling, warm sensation all over her, and when it stopped, she felt different. She looked down and instead of her legs, saw a glittering silver tail. Eliza stared in a mixture disbelief and amazement at the tail that had taken place of her legs. She flipped it slightly. The sea monsters were gathered around her now, she had joined their ranks, she supposed. She opened her mouth, and heard a song come out. Another song of loneliness, an alluring melody. She opened her mouth again to sing and the sea monsters went still, the water around them stilling as well. As she sang she saw the ship she had dived off approaching. The sailors on board all lured to her song, to her siren's call...She continued singing and the ship came closer and closer, finally to be dashed on the rocks around them. The ship went down. Eliza sang over the cries of the sailors who had tried to have their way with her. And then there was silence. 

                                                                    **********

Eliza watched as the man she had loved fell from the cliff. She felt a triumphant surge as the man who had so callously broken her heart fell into the ocean. She felt a smile beginning on her lips. She dived into the ocean, wanting a closer look at her handiwork. She saw his figure under the water and in an instant swum over to him, her new tail as strong as could be. He was floating unconscious in the water, the fall itself not enough to kill him. Eliza drew closer to him, and watched his still features under the water....even with all the hurt he had caused her he still looked so...innocent, just floating there. Eliza's heart melted a little, though it suprised her that she still had one left after all she had been through. She watched the man she had shared passionate rendevous with, their little romance was over....but did his life need to be? Eliza thought bitterly of the heartbreak she had been through with him. He looked so innocent and helpless just floating there unconcious....Eliza made her mind up. 

                                                                   **********
Lord Jonathon Beaufort woke up soaked lying on a rocky beach in broad daylight. Men were crying out around him.
'We found him!' 
'My lord, are you alright?' 
Jonathon propped himself up on his elbows.
'Jonathon!' he heard Victoria call his name and turned to see his new wife running towards him, beaming with relief to see him again. 
Jonathon felt a pang, his wife must have been worried sick about him and on their honeymoon too!
'What happened to you, m'lord?' asked one of the men.
Jonathon looked out to see, and thought he could see the flicker of a silver tail in the sea in the distance. 
'Eliza,' he said.