I Melt With You
Mary crept into the room from the servants' entrance. She snuck in quietly, self conscious and shy. On the outside she may be flamboyant, grandiose, but not really. And not tonight, although everyone present who did happen to glace at the delicate figure would see that she looked truly splendid, with her hair in a simple twist at the back of her head, and the deep red of her dress matching exactly the tone of her lips. She scanned the room at once, her dark eyes locating Matthew in the sea of suits and gowns around her. She drifted through the throngs of dancers and seemed to practically lift from the ground as the wave of colour swallowed her.
It was a feeling she'd always liked. People assumed that because she was the oldest she enjoyed standing out – being disgustingly ostentatious. No, she left that to Edith and Sybil. She loved nothing more than to walk into the open country at night and look up at the moon, at the stars and at the positively enormous expanse of sky. It all seemed so big. It reminded her that she is nothing. However big her trials and tribulations seem at the time, there is nothing like being drowned by the sky or the fields or the dancers to remind you that, all in all, it doesn't really matter.
A foot in her path jerked her back into the room as she stumbled to keep her balance. Any of the onlookers would assume she was as happy and joyful as the rest of the aristocracy present there tonight, their wealth hanging off them in swathes of silk and satin, but Matthew, now in front of Mary, knew different. They had known each other a while now, and suffice to say a lot had passed between them. He looked into her eyes and saw her reluctance. A want to be curled up on a bench in the garden or one of the secret cubby holes around the extensive Manor House which cradled them. Anything but here; being an object of scrutiny to be peered at and pored over.
They see each other. They see their respective demeanours, their expectations for a night of small talk and politeness. They nearly see what each other is thinking. Nearly.
No greetings necessary.
They stand next to each other for a while, looking at the dancers twist and twirl and entwine to the music.
No pleasantries required.
"What do you think?" Mary queried, breaking the silence between them.
"Of the night sky? I think I should learn more constellations. Of the music? I think there should be more flutes and less violas. Of the dances? I think there are too many formalities. Of politics? I think it's all unjust but what the devil can be done. Or did you have a particular topic in mind?"
"No. Not really. I'm just deathly bored."
"Dance with me then," It was a slim chance and he knew it, but he couldn't pass up on tonight's opportunity.
"No fear! I should trip over both of our feet and we'd land in an ungainly heap in the middle of the floor. Better still, spare us both the embarrassment."
"I think you are too harsh on yourself."
"I think you compliment me too much. What happened to Mr 'I like a good argument'?"
"He eloped with my wishes of marriage. You were awful cruel, you know. I still hurt from that. This face just here? It's just for show. I leave my real one in a jar by the door for when I am alone and no one has to see it." There. She knew he was in there somewhere.
"You mean the handsome face I see tonight is just a mask? I knew it all along."
"Oh, devil woman. I think it's lovely you match your dress to your horns."
"And your suit does not show the blackness of your heart?"
"I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue, I should be able to ride from here to London in barely a day." There it was. The ease of exchange they'd spent months discovering. A momentary silence settled between them.
"Do you prefer it like this?" She enquired, her tone suddenly serious as she peered up at him tentatively. He looked down, confused.
"Like what?"
"You know… Bickering. Masking whatever we really think and feel with this pointless attempt at conversation." Had she gone too far? The cracks in her porcelain exterior were beginning to show. Matthew was one thing, but what if they continued to break, letting the vicious glances and sadistic rumours seep in?
She was sure he was going to make a snide remark about how he'd never seen her so caring, but instead he just turned around, away from her, put down his glass and, returned to face her.
He took her slender hand in his, and looked deep into her eyes. He could see past that cracking exterior. Past the dress and the hair and the mask of convention.
"I think it's the bickering that's important. I think it shows how we really feel more than anything. I mean, if we can survive fifteen minutes at each other's throats, normal conversation will be a breeze." His eyes flicked towards the great oak doors. People stood crowded in between them, gossiping and passing judgement, letting their stale opinions sink into the crowd, nestling in the weaknesses and insecurities. No. Not there, he thought.
Instead, he slipped in the other direction, guiding Mary invisibly through the dancers. They came to a small door with no handle, which he pushed gently at the top corner, and they slid through. They were in a small store room full of wine and extra cutlery, which reflects what little light passed through the high window around the room, letting it bounce of the ceiling and walls and criss-cross over itself again and again. It was infinitely more beautiful than the chandeliers or vast arrays of candles in the adjacent room could ever strive to be.
"Better?" Matthew asked. Mary cast her eyes about the room, letting her hand drift through the shafts of light, as if trying to catch it.
"Yes…" She faltered. "How did you find this?" She leaned against a wooden cabinet and kicked off the uncomfortable shoes she had forced her feet into. Relief, at last.
"I had to escape one night after dinner," - Mary chuckled softly, - "and I just stumbled upon it. Every time I come in here the light it slightly different. It's like…" He paused, casting around for an appropriate comparison. "Well that's just it I suppose. I don't know what it's like."
"It's like nothing I've ever seen before." She finished quietly.
Suddenly, he stepped towards her, and put one arm around her waist, and took her hand with the other. He started to hum, grinning.
"Matthew, what are you doing?", she giggled, squirming. "I thought we agreed against the dancing. For the good of everyone involved!" She added.
"Ah, but I do recall that your argument was "in order to spare us the embarrassment". But look around," he gestured to the room devoid of people, "There is no one to be embarrassed in front of. Unless, of course, you're afraid the silverware has higher expectations."
She had no reply. Somewhere above her right ear, the humming resumed itself, and before she knew it she was being whisked across the stone floor.
Maybe this is it , she thought. With him, her exterior cracks and she doesn't mind. He knew what was under there anyway. He'd known what she was really like for a long time, and not passed judgement, or thrown his opinions in her path to trip her up as she attempted to stumble on with life. With him, she couldn't help it. Even in this freezing store cupboard, she felt her marble mask melt away under his gaze.
She forgot everything.
She forgot the cold that bleed into her feet as his breath fell warm on her neck.
She forgot the strands of hair that struggled out of their restraints and cascaded down her back as he whispered into her ear.
She forgot the situation she had been forced inexorably into as his words reached her consciousness.
"You're like nothing I've ever seen before."
A/N: Title is a song title by Lords Of The New Church, chapter title is a song by Modern English (both of which have amazing covers by Nouvelle Vague. Seriously. Look them up. Go. Now. I promise you won't regret it). Hope you enjoyed, Review please - They make me happy!