“He’s probably still surrounded by his fans,” David said. “We’ll take our seats and I’m sure he’ll be along presently. Shall I get you a drink from the bar?”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” They disappeared into the crowd. I couldn’t help but think they’d be perfect for each other with their lovely Regency manners, but then I remembered Morrie had seen Christina and Alice snogging in the courtyard. I wondered again what her father would think if he knew.
My phone – which still sat in my bra, along with my father’s letter – buzzed. I ignored it. I’d already received fifty-one texts from my mother this weekend, all of them ignored.
“Here’s our table. After you, ladies.” Morrie held out two chairs. Lydia slid into one and put her purse on the other. Morrie went to move her purse, and she glared at him.
“David will be sitting there. Now, go away,” she waved her hands at us. “I’m saving this table for my other suitors. You’ll find plenty of other seats around the room.”
“Lydia, you can’t just sit wherever you want. You have to find your name on your place setting—”
Lydia’s cheeks reddened. “I said, move! Don’t force me to say something I’ll regret.”
Before I could give Lydia a piece of my mind, Morrie looped an arm in mine and led me away. “Why, I’m almost offended. I thought I was supposed to be her escort.”
“I think we’re supposed to sit at Cynthia’s table, anyway,” I said.
Heathcliff smirked as he took my other hand. “If your ego can’t take the bruising, you could go back and insist upon dueling David for her affections.”
“Not on your life. That guy is brutal with a foil. If our charge doesn’t wish to sit with me, who am I to deny her?” Morrie steered us to a table near the front of the room, where we found our names on the list. Alice sat on one side of the circle, staring down at her phone. On the other side, two women and a man I didn’t recognize hooted with laughter while Christina and David talked with their heads bent close together.I guess he won’t be joining Lydia after all.“Shall we join the other VIPs?”
I nodded. Morrie pulled out the chair next to Alice, and I sank down into it. She looked up from her phone and smiled. “I was hoping you’d sit with me. I don’t know how much talk of bonnets and calligraphy I can stand.”
“You’ve already exhausted conversation with our table-mates?”
“Let’s see. Christina and David won’t speak to me, because they don’t like the questions I’ve been asking about Professor Hathaway.” It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her if that was true after their make-out session last night. But I didn’t want to make either of them into a spectacle if they’d chosen to keep it private. “We’ve also got Barbara, the tarot reader. Gina over there writes Jane Austen erotica. Quentin is a scholar of political science and a Marxist and has just spent the last fifteen minutes explaining to me in the most passionate terms the political history of the top hat.”
“At least you can’t say this is a gathering ‘too numerous for intimacy, too few for variety’,” I joked, quoting fromPersuasion.
Alice rolled her eyes. “Not you, too.”
“Do you have an angle for your fluffy article yet?”
She jerked her head toward a couple of women at a nearby table who waited for their male escort to pull out their chairs and pour their drinks. “I’m thinking, ‘sexism still alive and well in Argleton’.”
I smiled, topping up her wine glass after filling my own.Solidarity, sister.“I’m guessing your other piece has something to do with Hathaway? I saw you speaking to Professor Carmichael yesterday, and after Gerald’s performance this morning—”
“Good guess.” Alice set down her phone on the table, turning the screen down so I couldn’t see what was on it. “Hathaway has had several inappropriate relationships with female students, and that’s only scratching the surface of that man’s depravity. Professor Carmichael was the one who came to me with information in the first place, and it was even more damning than she’d initially suggested. Gerald’s story could only add fuel to the fire. Hathaway’s been allowed to get away with too much for too long. This is going to be the #metoo story of the year. I want—”
Something dived under the table. Alice reached out to save our wine before it splashed on the pristine tablecloth.
I peered under the table. “Heathcliff, what are you doing?”
“Put the cloth down!” He wrenched it from my fingers and yanked it to the floor. The flower arrangement teetered dangerously. Hannah and her goth friends appeared at my side.
“Do you have any idea where Heathcliff got to?” Hannah asked. She flaunted the Regency theme of the ball and wore a fishtail-style black gown with a plunging neckline that would earn the Morticia Addams seal of approval. Her hair was teased out in a wild 80s style, her fake lashes so long they touched her cheeks when she widened her eyes to search the room. “He promised me the first dance.”
“Sure. He’s under the table,” I said. From beneath my feet, something bellowed.
Heathcliff yanked the tablecloth up on the other side of the table. Christina yelped in surprise as he barreled out and dashed off. A moment later, three black-clad goth girls raced after him. Morrie, Alice and I burst out laughing.
“David,” Christina folded her napkin on the table. “I need to go to the bathroom. Will you accompany me?”
“It would be my pleasure.” David rose and offered his arm. “Perhaps we will find your father on the way.” Just as they disappeared, Cynthia stopped by our table and wished us a fun night. I couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of excitement as the band struck up a jaunty tune. This really was quite fun.
When everyone in the room had taken their seats and the waiters came around with appetizers – smoked quail breast with Asian pear gel, cauliflower puree, and spelt grains – Cynthia took to the stage to welcome us and explain how the evening would work. There would be a round of dancing between appetizers and the main course, and then the music would continue long into the evening. The band struck up one of the popular tunes, the ‘Duke of Kent’s Waltz’, and two lines of dancers took to the floor.
Heathcliff hadn’t returned by the time I finished my quail. Morrie swiped Heathcliff’s plate and refilled mine and Alice’s glasses. “We must take the opportunity to have the next dance together,” Morrie’s eyes sparkled at me.
