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It's been quite busy since Cordelia's departure, John's return and a trip into town. Now, the two must prepare for the Wellstons' ball.
Nicholas sat alone at the breakfast nook, anticipating Althia's entrance, when Jane brought in the morning meal. "Is Lady Shevington ill, Jane?"
A quizzical look came across Jane's face. "Not exactly, Captain. Whenever there is a ball or reception, miss spends most of the day in her room. Doing what, I'm not sure, but she usually doesn't come down until she is ready to leave." Jane set down the dishes and then left Nicholas alone.
Certainly it doesn't take a woman all day to get ready for a ball, Nicholas wondered. What could she possibly be doing up there?
Althia sat on her bed, her head lowered and her breathing labored. Not again, she pleaded. She lifted her head and tried to stand. She got part of the way up when her head started to swim and she swayed while her breathing became more shallow. Quickly, she sat back down on the bed and lowered her head. The attacks only occurred when she had to go to a ball or reception. Her heart would race, she wouldn't be able to catch her breath, and she would feel dizzy and disoriented. It typically took most of the day for her to be able to get out of the bed and to her bureau, get dressed, and get ready. By the time she entered the carriage, she could usually calm down enough to make the trip. Once there, she put on a stoic facade and never stayed long enough for anyone to notice she felt out of joints. Althia lifted her head and prepared to stand again when there was a knock at the door.
"Wh--who is it?"
"It is I, Captain Metcalf." Nicholas' now familiar voice entered her room. "I hoped that we might spend part of the morning touring your lovely gardens--that is, if you do not need the additional time to prepare for this evening."
"A walk? In the garden?" Althia struggled to comprehend what he said. "Yes, I think I shall have time for a walk. Shall we say a half an hour?"
"That would be perfect. I will meet you downstairs." Althia could hear his footsteps leave her doorway. A walk might be just what she needed, if she could only stand up. She pushed herself up and stood still for a moment. The dizziness wasn't as severe and she slowly made her way to the bureau. Yes, a walk might be just the thing.
A half-hour later, Althia and Nicholas walked out of the kitchen and into the garden. A few of the flowers showed promise of life within and Althia would stop ever so often and remove a leaf or growth here and there.
"What are these?" Nicholas asked, pointing.
"Gladiolus. They have pink blossoms. Humphrey says they signify 'ready armed'."
"And these here--this is cowslip, is it not?"
"You are correct, Captain."
"Tulips there and a bit of heather--beautiful eyes and admiration," Nicholas explained. "Quite appropriate flowers, don't you agree?"
"I wouldn't know, Captain." Althia busied herself with pruning in hopes he would not see her blushing. "The garden is more of Humphrey's creation than mine. I simply help tend it."
After additional questions and answers by both, they finally reached the end of the garden where two rose bushes sat. "I believe these are Maiden's Blush roses, are they not?"
"Your horticulture knowledge is quite extensive, Captain Metcalf." Perhaps someday she would learn not to be surprised at what the Captain knew or did.
Nicholas smiled at her. "One does not spend every summer of their youth on a farm and not learn anything about the nature surrounding it. That...and my grandmother kept a greenhouse next to the barn." He winked and turned back to the roses. "I'm sure their white blooms are most beautiful in the summer."
Althia nodded. "They are indeed."
Nicholas turned back to face her. Strands of hair fluttered around her face, the rest of her mane hidden under her bonnet. He tenderly reached up and pushed back a small wisp from her eyes. "Your father would be very proud of you."
"I beg your pardon?" Althia responded, startled by the action and the statement.
"I simply mean, Lady Shevington, that with all of the work and energy you have put into this house and land, your father would be most proud of you." He stood there staring at her for a moment and then turned back to the flowers, unable to put into words his own pride and admiration of her.
Althia stood there dumbfounded. Was it possible that her father would have been proud of her? She spent so much time trying to live up to his standards and never feeling successful. Could the Captain see something that she couldn't?
Nicholas took a few steps before turning back to her. "We should be returning to the house if we are to leave on time."
"Yes, you're right," she replied as she jogged a few steps to meet up with him. They walked back to the house silently, each one lost in their own thoughts.
Somehow Althia found the ability to get dressed and ready for the ball. The walk actually seemed to do some good. She didn't feel as anxious and disoriented as she normally did. A small voice in her heart tried to say that it wasn't just the walk that calmed her, but she quickly dismissed the notion. Althia chose to wear a brilliant green silk dress with matching emerald earrings. Jane helped Althia curl her hair and create a reasonable facsimile of a style she saw Cordelia wear one evening. A few drops of perfume behind her ears and on her neck and a quick glance once more in the mirror finished the preparations as she made her way down the stairs.
Nicholas paced the parlor for the hundredth time. He felt too nervous, anxious, and excited to sit. Jane had done a brilliant job on his uniform and it glowed with new life and vibrancy. He felt a bit lost without his uniform hat and gloves, but John had graciously loaned Nicholas both. He held the hat in one hand and ran the other through his hair. If she didn't get downstairs quickly, Nicholas feared that he might make himself bald.
Just then, he heard the light tripping of feet and he turned, straightened up and stuck out his chest. He looked at the doorway and froze. If anything could be more beautiful, he could not imagine it. She wore a dazzling green dress and her hair sat curled and styled on her head in the same manner as a Greek goddess. How could he possibly put into words how breathtaking she was at that exact moment? He forced himself to step to her and, taking her extended hand into his, he said, "There is not a flower in heaven nor on earth that could match your beauty, Lady Shevington," before kissing the back of it.
Althia stood in awe of the man before her. Never had her heart been more effected by the sight of someone. His uniform and stance were almost identical to the picture she had imagined--he only needed an ocean and ship to complete the fantasy. Almost involuntarily, she extended her hand to him and, when he complimented her, she found no hint of teasing, mocking, or pretense. His eyes matched the honesty in his voice and she longed for him to not stop at her hand. "I...I...I just wanted to thank you Captain for the kind words you said to me this morning in the garden."
"It is the truth," he stated as he regrettably let go of her hand, "Although I doubt that you realize it." He felt an immense sense of sadness and loneliness even though she remained in front of him. "Shall we go then?" Nicholas extended his arm to her and she accepted wordlessly. The stunning pair walked out of the house and into the waiting carriage. Nicholas could not grasp how he would ever survive without her next to him. Losing a limb or an eye would pale in comparison, he thought. Losing her would be like losing my very heart and soul--without her I will most assuredly die. He sat across from her and could not keep from staring at her. He wished to burn her every feature into his mind for all eternity, not knowing how quickly his time with her would soon end.
The carriage pulled up to the Wellstons' home and Nicholas helped Althia out, escorting her inside. A large chandelier hung in the entryway reflecting its light onto the people milling about the foyer. A servant soon came upon them, requesting their card and coats. Lord and Lady Wellston stood near the foot of the stairs greeting their guests, flocked by the Chanceler family.
"Captain Metcalf and Lady Shevington," the servant dutifully announced as Nicholas and Althia made their way to the throng.
"Althia. How nice to see you," Lady Wellston welcomed and kissed Althia on the cheek. "I do not believe I had the pleasure of meeting your handsome escort."
"Captain Metcalf, Lady Wellston." Althia handled the introductions as Nicholas obligingly kissed Lady Wellston's hand.
"Lady Wellston, I wish to extend my appreciation to you for allowing me into your home and to be a part of tonight's festivities. A home like yours is like finding a beautiful pearl inside a most plain oyster."
"My, my!" Lady Wellston removed her hand from Nicholas' grasp and fanned herself. "It is not often that we get someone so charming and gracious in our home. Is it, dear?"
"Hummmph? What?" Lord Wellston reacted as if awaking. "Of course, dear," he replied and turned his attention to Nicholas. "Captain, is it? I spent a number of days in the company of Commander Bailey. Are you familiar with him?"
"Commander Bailey? Of course," Nicholas acknowledged. Soon he and Lord Wellston were sharing "war stories," much to Nicholas' chagrin.
Althia, meanwhile, found herself quickly whisked away by Cordelia and Margaret, desiring the intimate details of the budding relationship. She looked back and caught Nicholas' eye as the women scurried her away into the sitting room.
It seemed like hours before Nicholas could politely excuse himself and begin searching for Althia. He vowed that this night would not end like the first night he saw her. He walked down the hallway into the foyer and scanned past the people around him. A number of men came forward to talk with him, and he merely nodded or gave them a few words. He was on a mission and he could not rest until it was finished. Entering the ballroom, the strains of violin, flute, and pianoforte embraced him. He slowly gazed around the room until the soft candlelight reflecting off of an emerald dress caused him to stop. She stood there speaking with a man who looked vaguely familiar. Nicholas swore he could hear the tinkling of her laughter over the instruments. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back and strode over to her.
Althia had never been so glad to see Sir Langston. He had entered the sitting room just when she thought her defenses would crumble under the constant prodding of Cordelia and Margaret. He must have seen or sensed her distress because he soon came over and asked for Althia's opinion about something or other and escorted her out of the room. She couldn't resist giving him a kiss on the cheek to which he simply smiled and patted her hand. While their current conversation was trivial in nature, it gave enough of an appearance to keep the two news hounds at bay.
A movement caught the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw Nicholas coming toward her and Sir Langston. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart beat wildly in her chest. Sir Langston noticed her change of attention and turned to see who or what was coming.
"Sir. Lady Shevington," Nicholas greeted the pair when he reached them.
"Captain Metcalf, is it not?"
"Why, yes. We have met before?"
"You probably do not remember me," Sir Langston explained. "We were introduced at Lady Chanceler's house a number of months past."
"Yes...Sir Langston. I do remember you." Nicholas, at last, tore his gaze from Althia to the man standing between them.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Captain. I hope that things are well with you."
"Most assuredly, sir. Things could not be better."
Althia couldn't stop fanning herself. Every part of her burned and she felt extremely hot even though she stood on the opposite side of the room from the fireplace.
"Lady Shevington, I wondered if your dance card might be free for the next waltz?" Nicholas turned back to her.
"I...I...believe so," Althia stammered.
"Very good. I shall look forward to it." Nicholas bowed, turned, and walked away from the pair.
"Quite a striking man, is he not? I noticed it the first time I met him. There was just something about him..." Sir Langston droned on, but Althia heard none of it. She intently focused on Nicholas as he made his way to the violinist and whispered something in his ear. The violinist nodded and Nicholas patted his back slightly before turning back to where she stood.
"...don't you think so, Lady Shevington? Lady Shevington?"
"I...uh, I am sorry. What were you saying?" Althia fanned faster as the music began to wind down.
"I was just remarking on what a capable young man your Captain Metcalf is."
"My Captain Metcalf? I am afraid I do not understand." Althia's eyes locked with Nicholas' as he approached. Closer and closer he came, like a tiger stalking its prey. She found every part of her, minus her heart, completely frozen. The guests clapped their approval of the previous musical selection and then the violinist stood and announced that a waltz would be played next.
"I believe this dance is mine?" Nicholas held out his hand, smiled and winked at her.
She could do nothing but extend her hand and hope her instinct would take over. Sir Langston stopped mid-sentence, smiled at the pair entering the dance floor, and then went to find his wife.
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