Masquerade

Part I - The Ball

Undercover work, for the most part, was something Illya Kuryakin could enjoy. It was something that he had discovered early that he had something of a flair for. Throwing himself into another personality was always something of a challenge and there was something inside of him that always rose in response to that challenge. What had him on edge for this mission was the person that he was partnered with. Namely the wife of his boss - Millicent Waverly.

Part of Illya rebelled at putting a woman of her age into a possibly dangerous situation, but when questioned, he couldn't think of anyone else who would be better suited for the role of a lonely, wealthy widow. The THRUSH man they needed to get closer to was rumored to have gained his fortune through a series of relationships with older women of means and Mrs. Waverly fit his preferences to such an uncanny degree that he knew it must bother Mister Waverly.

Regardless, whatever else could be said about the Old Man, he was genuine in his beliefs about the importance of a mission. However, that didn't mean that he wasn't going to have his wife going in without the maximum protection that he could provide without drawing too much suspicion. So Illya was there portraying her doting son with Napoleon Solo posing as their family's chauffeur.

For her part, Mrs. Waverly seemed an enthusiastic participant as she adjusted her mask before they exited the car. It reminded him of a representation of the Firebird - all gold and red feathers that matched well with the colors of her gown. He put on his own mask which looked bird like as well and was also done in red and gold, but without any feathers.

"Do you know that it has been ages since I have attended a masquerade ball, Lev?"

Illya smiled down at Mrs. Waverly as he continued to push her wheelchair into the ballroom, as fully immersed in his role as she was in hers.

"I seem to remember that you met Papa at a masquerade ball, Mama."

"Yes, that's right, darling. Let's go over there, if you don't mind. I would love to watch the dancers."

As he wheeled the chair to a position with a good view of the dance floor, Illya recalled when Mrs. Waverly had been asked to take part in the mission. He, Napoleon and Mister Waverly had all watched with a touch of bemusement as Mrs. Waverly deftly picked over and rejected the majority of the jewelry pieces that had been brought to complete this image for her undercover role. Mister Waverly's one remark suggesting a more elaborate piece than one she had chosen was met with a remark frosty enough that it could have come straight from the Artic Circle.

"Alexander, I am not going out in public, even in disguise, looking anything like Lavinia Wilkinson Smythe."

The name meant nothing at all to either Illya or Napoleon, but Mister Waverly looked as chastised as Illya could ever remember and he made no additional suggestions concerning his wife's choices in jewelry for the role.

Looking around the room, Illya studied some of the other ladies present. A few looked as if they had been too close to an explosion at a jewelry store, but that seemed to be more a trait of the younger ladies or those who had married well above their station. The majority of the ladies that he knew to be from old money handled their jewelry as Mrs. Waverly had - a few pieces here and there - glitters to draw the eye, but nothing to suggest any of their limbs were frosting over.

Comparing her further with the other ladies present, Illya could now appreciate the care Mrs. Waverly had taken. All of the pieces she was wearing were well-made and most classically styled, but some of them were obviously older pieces - ones that hinted to jewelry that had been hers for a long time or were possibly inherited. Regardless, the older pieces mixed with a few of newer styles spoke of a long history of wealth that had not dwindled away over the years.

They both knew that the bait had been taken as a blonde in a strapless black gown, wearing an equally black mask made of lace, came toward them. She was the daughter of their target and it was plain that her flirting was with the intent to separate 'Lev' from his 'mother'. His 'mother' urged it along.

"I will be fine here, Lev. You are still young – enjoy yourself. After all, you never know when lightning will strike, but you can be sure it will never strike if you never go out into the rain."

A genuine soft laugh came from Illya at that as he leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek.

"Fine. But I will not be far if you need me, Mama."

It was about five minutes later that their man made his initial move.

"The young man in red and gold is with you, isn't he, Madam?"

"He is indeed. My youngest child. The young lady he is with seems most charming and seems more well-bred than the majority here tonight."

"I will accept that compliment on her behalf as well as take partial credit for it."

"You must be her father then?"

"I am indeed young Francesca's father. I feel I am acting inappropriately - speaking to you when we have not yet been introduced. But since we are all masked, perhaps we could cast convention aside and exchange first names, Madam?"

She gave a soft laugh and offered her hand to him.

"If this is the most inappropriate thing done here tonight, this shall be the dullest masquerade ball I have ever attended. You may call me Melliese, sir."

"Xavier, Madam – at your service. Your accent – Russian, is it not?"

"It is."

"I hope you won't be offended when I say that you look as I have always imagined the Grand Duchess Anastasia would look had her life not taken a tragic turn."

"No offense taken. She and I were only a year apart in age."

Illya glanced over the shoulder of his dance partner to where they stood, already talking as if they were old friends who had met again unexpectedly. For a moment, he worried about not being closer to Mrs. Waverly, but then he reminded himself that she had been a part of this world along with Mister Waverly far longer than he had. Mentally filing away his worry, he returned his attention to his dance partner, using his lingering glance for conversation.

"It would seem that Mama has found someone to talk with."

Francesca glanced over and showed a very credible expression of surprise.

"You will think I am making a jest, but that's my father chatting with her."

Pretending to be pleased by that, Illya drew her closer.

"Well then, I think that possibly you and I can trust them to entertain one another a bit longer. If you don't mind another dance."

"I would enjoy another dance very much, Lev."

Millicent smiled as she watched Illya led Francesca into the next dance.

"It seems your daughter has charmed my son as well as myself."

Taking a chair next to her to put them on the same level, Xavier studied her features to what could be considered a rude degree. Millicent chose to treat it with humor.

"You are starting to make me wish for a mirror to check to see if my nose is shiny."

He smiled back at her and began apologizing.

"I certainly did not mean to cause you any embarrassment. I was admiring the color of your eyes. Was your hair as blonde as your son's or more reddish?"

That question confirmed in her mind the way that Xavier's thoughts were headed, so she decided to play along. It was, after all, her job on this mission to get and hold his interest. Besides, she could truthfully say her hair was strawberry blonde when she was a girl. She had dyed it that color once and she preferred to avoid out and out lying whenever possible. It made keeping track of one's story much easier than spinning a tale from pure imagination did.

"Not very red, but it did have some reddish tones to it."

Her answer pleased him as she expected that it would. Why people were so endlessly fascinated by the Grand Duchess Anastasia was something she had never figured out to her personal satisfaction, but it was plain that he was trying to cast her in the role. He leaned closer to her speaking too softly for anyone else to overhear.

"Doesn't it bother you? Having to forsake your birthright?"

"My parents gave me life and I have not only kept my own life, but have continued our bloodline. I have forsaken nothing of lasting value."

He gave her a smile again.

"A woman with her priorities straight, I see. Tell me, are you in this area for long?"

"Just passing through, really. I'm afraid I've fallen into the bad habit of wandering since losing my husband. But I am seeing the world and my son is seeing it with me."

"Just the two of you?"

"Just us and our servants. I suppose we could do without them, but I am old enough to argue that I am too set in my ways to change my habits now."

Laughing, Xavier nodded.

"What good is having money if you cannot use it to have things as you prefer them around you, Melliese? I can't imagine that you travel with a household full."

She laughed lightly at that herself.

"Hardly. Just three. Our chauffeur, my personal maid and my son's valet. Anyone else would just be underfoot while we are traveling."

They both looked up as the music ended and Illya led Francesca back over. Francesca turned up her smile and addressed Millicent - who was rather pleasantly surprised that the young woman spoke to her in a normal tone instead of assuming she was either half-deaf or slightly mentally incompetent.

"I do hope my father hasn't done something dreadful and talk nonstop about his last fishing trip."

"Not at all, dear child. I have found your father to be a most interesting conversationalist."

Francesca's face lit up as if she had suddenly been struck by inspiration.

"Father, I know it is terribly short notice, but please do ask them to our house party. You have such wonderful musicians hired and not a soul invited that I can dance with who will not tread on my toes."

Illya noted that Xavier could manage a credible flush to mimic embarrassment.

"A similar thought had crossed my mind, but -"

He paused and then straightened as he faced Millicent.

"Please do not take our invitation wrongly, but it would certainly be a pleasure to have you and your son join us at our home next weekend. I would most certainly welcome a chance to continue our conversation at length. We have room enough to accommodate you and your servants."

Illya moved slightly closer to Millicent and she took his hand, patting it fondly as she looked up at him. They exchanged a smile and then she looked back to Xavier.

"Formality has its place, of course, but heaven forbid that we should ever take insult to an offer of hospitality. As it happens, we had not yet made any plans for this coming weekend. We would be delighted to join your other guests."

"Excellent!"

Before Xavier could continue, the announcement was made that the time had come for the unmasking to begin.

As the four moved toward the main gathering, Illya wondered for a moment just how many in the ballroom were like the four of them and would still be wearing masks even after the outer masks were removed.