Ok, hope you is liking.
Usual disclaimer.
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Chapter Three - Private Hell
The music had started. The happy laughter was already going strong. Ana stood in the middle of it. The colours of dresses and uniforms swirled around her eyes like drink round a glass. The endless throng of people making her dizzy. The many men who sauntered up to her, grasping her frail fingers to drag her into yet another dance. She detested it all.
Jack was bodily pulled downstairs by an array of servants. Eventually, they hoisted him up, one at his head, the other at his feet. He squirmed violently, mentally cursing the tight and awkward clothes he'd been forced into.
At last, they deposited him just outside the hall. They feared more struggling and another hard battle to get him in. But Jackarius Moineau had already lost. The familiar numbness that came upon him every time there was an 'Official Function' on was creeping over him. The pretend mask he un- willingly wore every time he had to dance, talk or be with these false, and impossibly polite people was up. Like an un-wanted shield that stopped him saying how and what he really felt.
He took a few cautious steps forward, and stood at the threshold of his own private hell.
Ana felt ill. She felt faint. Men whisked her about, teasing and fooling with her. It was like some great game. Across the room she saw her older siblings, Jacob and Lucinda, enjoying themselves. They blended into the background like trees into a wood.
Over by one of the pillars, was Beatrice, her lightly tanned skin clashing with her amazingly blonde hair. She looked so pretty, so delicate. Then there was Nathaniel, the perfect gentleman. Ana sighed, watching her two younger siblings. They too blended in perfectly. She scoured the room with her eyes, looking for Jack. She saw him, staring listlessly out into the abyss.
Jack stepped into the room, half expecting the floor to swallow him up. It was too late now. Several young women, obviously the worse for a little too much drink, came skittering up to him. Giggling un-controllably, one of them stood in front of him.
"Hello Jack. I do hope you'll ask me to dance."
She smiled prettily at him, twirling her hair with one finger.
Inwardly, Jack sighed. Here we go again, he thought. Jack settled into his normal routine. Flashing the girl a killer smile that sent all of them into blushing giggles, he took the more forward lady's hand, and led her to the dance floor.
Ana saw the whole thing. Hiding a smile with a fussy but apparently essential fan, she turned away. Jack was always a favourite with the women. It was a sort of relief to their father. Unfortunately the likelihood that Jack would marry any of the stuck up madams round here was very low. About as likely as Ana herself marrying one of the stuck up gentlemen round here.
She turned toward the drinks table, and brief respite. There were comparatively few people there. Ana flapped her pathetic little fan ineffectually. She needed air. But there was no air in this place. At least none not already polluted with noise, smell and heat. Ana began to struggle toward the open doors to the balcony. Her lungs were shrinking, but she made it. Leaning against the door post, she gasped in a most un-ladylike fashion to open her desperate lungs.
"Hello Miss Moineau."
Usual disclaimer.
***********************************************************
Chapter Three - Private Hell
The music had started. The happy laughter was already going strong. Ana stood in the middle of it. The colours of dresses and uniforms swirled around her eyes like drink round a glass. The endless throng of people making her dizzy. The many men who sauntered up to her, grasping her frail fingers to drag her into yet another dance. She detested it all.
Jack was bodily pulled downstairs by an array of servants. Eventually, they hoisted him up, one at his head, the other at his feet. He squirmed violently, mentally cursing the tight and awkward clothes he'd been forced into.
At last, they deposited him just outside the hall. They feared more struggling and another hard battle to get him in. But Jackarius Moineau had already lost. The familiar numbness that came upon him every time there was an 'Official Function' on was creeping over him. The pretend mask he un- willingly wore every time he had to dance, talk or be with these false, and impossibly polite people was up. Like an un-wanted shield that stopped him saying how and what he really felt.
He took a few cautious steps forward, and stood at the threshold of his own private hell.
Ana felt ill. She felt faint. Men whisked her about, teasing and fooling with her. It was like some great game. Across the room she saw her older siblings, Jacob and Lucinda, enjoying themselves. They blended into the background like trees into a wood.
Over by one of the pillars, was Beatrice, her lightly tanned skin clashing with her amazingly blonde hair. She looked so pretty, so delicate. Then there was Nathaniel, the perfect gentleman. Ana sighed, watching her two younger siblings. They too blended in perfectly. She scoured the room with her eyes, looking for Jack. She saw him, staring listlessly out into the abyss.
Jack stepped into the room, half expecting the floor to swallow him up. It was too late now. Several young women, obviously the worse for a little too much drink, came skittering up to him. Giggling un-controllably, one of them stood in front of him.
"Hello Jack. I do hope you'll ask me to dance."
She smiled prettily at him, twirling her hair with one finger.
Inwardly, Jack sighed. Here we go again, he thought. Jack settled into his normal routine. Flashing the girl a killer smile that sent all of them into blushing giggles, he took the more forward lady's hand, and led her to the dance floor.
Ana saw the whole thing. Hiding a smile with a fussy but apparently essential fan, she turned away. Jack was always a favourite with the women. It was a sort of relief to their father. Unfortunately the likelihood that Jack would marry any of the stuck up madams round here was very low. About as likely as Ana herself marrying one of the stuck up gentlemen round here.
She turned toward the drinks table, and brief respite. There were comparatively few people there. Ana flapped her pathetic little fan ineffectually. She needed air. But there was no air in this place. At least none not already polluted with noise, smell and heat. Ana began to struggle toward the open doors to the balcony. Her lungs were shrinking, but she made it. Leaning against the door post, she gasped in a most un-ladylike fashion to open her desperate lungs.
"Hello Miss Moineau."