Chapter Twenty - Social Niceties
"My lady? I'm here to assist you in preparing for the evening, should you require assistance."
TaraLeila came to the door in her dressing gown, and as Helene entered, she instinctively hid a smile at seeing the Knight staring balefully at her bed, where her evening clothes were laid out for her.
"Ye know, ye'd think by now I'd be used to this sort of thing, but no," TaraLeila sighed.
"Aren't formal occasions like this part of a Knight's typical duties?" the maid asked, and TaraLeila gave a half-hearted shrug.
"Sometimes. But even then, we often wear our tabards as we're no' there as guests ourselves. I know, I know, I should no' be complainin' since Her Majesty was gracious enough to help me with findin' a suitable dress, but..."
"Well, you'll look lovely," Helene said soothingly, not quite hiding her smile this time. "Come now, let's get you ready."
This time, TaraLeila was sensible enough to get her stockings and shoes on before donning the corset with Helene's help, though the maid was shocked when she saw TaraLeila placing a soft leather sheath around one thigh and slipping a dagger into it.
"My lady!"
TaraLeila looked at her in surprise. "What, ye don't seriously think I'm goin' to attend somethin' like this and no' carry a weapon?"
"But no weapons are allowed in His Majesty's presence," Helene reminded her anxiously.
"If someone goes lookin' up my skirts to check, believe ye me, I'll be havin' words with him," TaraLeila replied, but at the maid's horrified look, she gave in and removed it.
Next came the crinolines and then finally her dress, then Helene had TaraLeila sit before the mirror so she could do her hair. TaraLeila balked at having her hair up, however, as she was far too self-conscious about her back to risk it being visible.
"It isn't the 'done' thing, madame," Helene began, but TaraLeila shook her head firmly, and they eventually compromised on a style. TaraLeila also put her foot down when Helene attempted to add some rouge to her cheeks, and the maid finally gave up.
Once they were done, Helene guided her to a mirror, then quickly made a few last-moment adjustments to her gown with some neatly hidden pins.
"There you go, my lady. And if I might say so, you do look lovely."
To her considerable surprise, TaraLeila turned and took the maid's hand in hers.
"Thank ye, Helene. I apologize for givin' ye so much trouble. Ye've been incredibly patient and kind. I just... wanted ye to know I appreciate it."
"It's my pleasure, madame. And I hope you enjoy yourself this evening."
"I hope I survive it," the Knight groaned, and Helene chuckled as she left.
As Heine approached the ballroom, the guards outside nodded to him. The herald just inside turned, saw him, and then faced the ballroom once more, banging his greatstick upon the floor.
"The Royal Tutor, Professor Heine Wittgenstein!" he called out as Heine entered. In the back of his mind, he found it grimly amusing to see several of the nobles giving him rather surprised and assessing looks, but he just as quickly dismissed them. After all, he was here to attend the princes at the king's request, although the royal family generally entered last.
I do not see TaraLeila yet, but I imagine she and Sir Etienne will be arriving together.
Diplomats were conversing in every part of the ballroom, the various languages of the Western Continent flowing around him. A few of them nodded politely to him as he passed, which he acknowledged with nods of his own.
The herald at the door continued to announce the various arrivals, including Count Rosenberg, Lady Beatrix von Lothringen and her parents, and then Heine heard, "Sir Etienne Deneuve du Surlign, and Dame TaraLeila MacIntyre, Knight of the Rose and Cross!"
Heine turned, and his mouth fell open in astonishment.
TaraLeila wore a formal ballgown of black and midnight blue silk, her long black hair twisted up into a circle of braids before flowing down her back all the way to her waist. Lace sleeves with black silk trim at the ends covered her arms to the elbow, and the dress clung to her lean frame before flaring out at her waist to fall in draped layers and folds of silk. Over her heart, she wore an ornate silver brooch in the shape of the Rose and Cross seal.
Her head held high, her left hand resting on Etienne's right hand, she entered the room to a chorus of whispers and gasps.
As she saw Heine, she smiled widely, turned to murmur something to the diplomat, who bowed, and then she made her way across the room to the tutor.
"What do ye think?" she asked, making a graceful pirouette.
"I... see you managed to find a dress," Heine finally managed to say.
"Aye," she replied, looking down at herself with a smile that faded into a scowl, "though I'm no' at all happy about being forced into a corset."
"You look charming."
At that, she lifted her head in surprise, then she blushed. "Thank ye."
Though she's certainly making a statement in that outfit, he thought. Social etiquette dictates that young unmarried women wear more delicate, demure colours and fabrics, not to mention wearing her hair down like that instead of up in a snood. From the whispers around them, it was clear that the gossip had already started about her, but from what Heine could see, either she didn't hear or she didn't care.
She, on the other hand, was giving him a slightly exasperated smile. "So why did I have to come in borrowed plumes, and ye get to come wearin' what ye always wear?"
"Alas, the rules aren't always equal for men and women, TaraLeila. You know that."
"Aye, but it doesn't mean I have to like it," she grumbled. She leaned back on her heels and gave him an appraising look. "Besides, I'd have liked to have seen ye in somethin' formal. I think ye'd look rather dashin'."
Heine was saved from answering that by the rap of the herald's greatstick, and the announcement, "His Royal Highnesses, Crown Prince Eins, Prince Leonhard, Prince Kai, Prince Bruno, and Prince Licht!"
TaraLeila, Heine, and the others turned to bow as the princes entered in their formal regalia, then just behind them came their father and grandmother.
"His Majesty, King Viktor, and Her Majesty, Queen Maria, the Queen Mother!"
Viktor and his mother made their way to the center of the ballroom as everyone bowed low, then he turned to face them all.
"Good evening, respected and noble guests. I welcome you to Weissburg Palace. Let the celebration begin!"
At that, the guests burst into applause, and Viktor bowed while the Queen Mother curtseyed.
"Excuse me, my lady," TaraLeila heard, and she turned to see one of the servants handing her a fan. Puzzled, she took it with a nod of thanks, and then she gave Heine a confused look.
"It is your dance card," he explained. "Open it."
She unfolded the fan, and saw that on each fold of the fan was one of the pieces that the musicians would play as well as the type of dance, with a space after each.
"If a gentleman wishes to claim a dance with a lady, he writes his name after the intended dance. This way, you know with whom you'll be dancing."
She laughed and fluttered the fan in front of her face. "What a charmin' idea! But what if a lady wants to dance with a particular gentleman? Is she no' allowed to just ask him?"
"Unfortunately, no. Though knowing you, I doubt that would stop you."
TaraLeila chuckled.
"Dame TaraLeila," they heard, and turned to see Etienne standing beside her. "My lady, with your permission, I would like to claim the evening's first dance," he said with a bow. A quick glance at her fan told TaraLeila it was a promenade, and she nodded.
"'Twould be my pleasure," she replied, handing him her fan and he penciled in his name, then bowed.
As Etienne left, Heine saw Leonhard, Licht, Bruno, and Kai approaching.
"Ah, Highnesses. You all look quite elegant."
"Aye, ye do," TaraLeila agreed, and Heine noticed her eyes lingering slightly on Bruno, who was doing his best not to stare at TaraLeila, and failing entirely. "I almost didn't recognize ye."
"Now, if you will permit me the honour, I would like to claim the pleasure of a dance or two with you, Tara."
She smiled once more and proffered her fan to Heine, and with a small pencil, he claimed two later cotillions with her. To her surprise, Leonhard then stepped forward with a bow.
"My lady, if I may also request the pleasure of a dance?"
The other princes did the same, then they left to fulfill their social obligations, and she looked up to see Eins and Count Rosenberg approach her with a bow.
"Dame TaraLeila, with your permission, I would claim the honour of a dance," Eins murmured, and her eyes went wide.
"As would I, my lady," Rosenberg said softly.
She slowly handed her fan to Eins first, who added his name, and then handed it to Rosenberg, who did the same. The Count handed the fan back to Eins, who presented it to TaraLeila with a click of his heels and another bow. "Until later, madame."
TaraLeila covered her mouth to hide a nervous laugh as Eins and Rosenberg left. "Truth be told, I'm surprised he even wants to dance with me."
"If you'll forgive me for saying so, Tara, I'm not entirely certain that he does. However, it would reflect poorly upon him, and by extension, His Majesty, if he did not ask."
"Weel, that explains why Prince Eins would ask, but why would the Count?"
Heine glanced around, then stepped closer to murmur to her, "Be on your guard with him, Tara."
Pale blue eyes met russet ones, and she saw the faint warning there. She nodded slightly.
Looking at her fan, TaraLeila saw that eleven of the twelve dances of the evening had been claimed already.
"Oh! 'Twould seem I'm rather popular. I've only one dance remainin', and that one bein' the last dance."
"The honour of which I would request, then, my lady," she heard, and she turned to see Viktor standing right behind her with a smile.
Her face went pale, and it took all her discipline not to take a step back.
Viktor and Heine waited for her reply, but she seemed briefly unable to speak.
"Tara," Heine whispered, and she finally swallowed hard and handed her fan to the king with a shaking hand.
"Of... of course, Your Majesty. Forgive me. I would be honoured."
Viktor gave her a thoughtful look as he penciled in his name and handed the fan back to her, then he bowed slightly and departed, leaving TaraLeila standing beside Heine, looking shaken.
"My lady," he hissed urgently. "Tara!"
Slowly, she turned her head to look at him, her face completely ashen, and Heine feared she might faint. He took her hand, led her to some seats placed along one wall, and helped her to sit, then took a seat beside her, still holding her hand.
"You must collect yourself, TaraLeila," he murmured. "People are staring."
Especially Prince Eins and Count Rosenberg, he noticed. This is not good. She cannot afford to show any sort of weakness, especially in front of those two.
Then the musicians began preparing, and Etienne returned to escort her onto the dance floor for the first dance.
"Dame TaraLeila," he began, until he also saw her face. "My lady, are you unwell?"
Heine felt her briefly squeeze his hand as she drew in a deep breath, then she composed herself and managed a smile for the diplomat.
"I'm fine, my lord. Thank ye."
Letting go of Heine, she rose with Etienne's assistance and followed him to the center of the room. Viktor was already there with the Queen Mother, Prince Kai was with Lady Beatrix, Prince Eins and the other princes were with various ladies.
Heine watched as the music began and the couples moved gracefully through the promenade, his face implacable.
To be continued...