Soaring Flight by Melissa McShane

Author:Melissa McShane
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Night Harbor Publishing

CHAPTER 22

IN WHICH ARMAND EXPLOITS A WEAKNESS IN CLEMENCY’S DEFENSES

Clemency passed through Emeraude House’s small but elegant ballroom and covered her nose to suppress a sneeze. Mama’s idea of proper decoration for a young lady’s first ball involved bringing a vast quantity of green boughs indoors, holly and yew, as if anticipating the Christmas season. The greenery twined over the high, narrow window frames and across the sills; it draped across the broad doorways, dripping ripe red berries that would certainly be crushed underfoot, ruining many a lady’s shoe. Clemency reminded herself to have Slater send the footmen around to sweep up the loose berries before the guests arrived. It was typical of Mama not to think beyond the beauty of the moment.

Again, her nose tickled, deep within, and she pinched its bridge and breathed shallowly through her mouth until the urge to sneeze passed. The gesture was indelicate, but no one was around to notice. She sniffed lightly once and inhaled the fresh, sharp scent of yew, stronger than mint and more appealing to her. The tapers in the wall sconces and both brilliantly-lit chandeliers gilded the greenery like a summer sunset, warming the room as if in anticipation of the guests who would fill the ballroom in just under an hour.

Clemency put away her pocket watch and circled the ballroom one last time, admiring the white walls and the dark floorboards that contrasted so beautifully with them. There had been no gatherings here since before she went away to war; though Mercy had been presented at court, she naturally had not expected to dance, and Clemency recalled the letter she had received from her sister, imploring her to influence Mama to stop pestering Mercy to attend dances where she would, in Mercy’s words, “be nothing but a figure of pity.”

She paused at the top of the three steps leading down to the ballroom floor. Prudence had not seemed enthusiastic about the ball that morning at breakfast, but neither had she been antagonistic, and Clemency hoped that boded well for the evening. Mama had told Clemency, in hushed tones as if imparting a great secret, that Prudence had shown an interest in the guest list, “and perhaps she will make a fine connection, too, would that not be wonderful?”

Since Mama had not followed this sally with a comment on how Clemency needed to make a fine connection, Clemency had not objected, though in her heart she felt Prudence was still too young to contemplate marriage. But Mama’s habit of making matches for all her friends’ unmarried daughters was well known, and Clemency did not take her remarks seriously.

She encountered Mercy in the hall at the top of the stairs. “Oh, I am not yet dressed,” Clemency said. “If you will wait for me, I will hurry so I may convey you downstairs.”

“Francis will be here shortly, and he will help,” Mercy said. She wore a lovely silk gown of pale green, and her dark hair was pinned up with a golden net securing her curls.

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