A/N: I am really really sorry for taking so much time with this. So, I'm not gonna bore you with a huge disclaimer and authors note.
Chapter Nine: The Ball
The ball came. I had hardly time to converse with Claire upon Lord d'Narley wishing our separation. But we both knew that the ball would indeed arrive, in three days, and we would be together.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Indeed this is true, as each day I found myself, wishing to merely catch a glimpse of Claire, even at a distance, or through a window. I found myself lonely and forlorn without her by my side, without her to talk to. And the ball could not arrive too soon.
The evening came, and guests began to arrive at Upper House, pulling smartly into the driveway in their carriages, coachmen supporting umbrellas for the Ladies as the slight patter of rain pounds the drive. Servants take the horses and coaches to the stables, where they are watered.
I watch them arrive for a while, on the landing of my bedroom, which had become to feel a borstal. Fine ladies in gowns encrusted with silver and gold, ornamental flowers in their hair and silk or lace gloves; gentlemen in evening wear, top hats and shining shoes, as I was.
I tuck my hat under my arm and descend the staircase to the ballroom, nodding politely at guests as I do so. I reach the ballroom, to see many couples dancing, already concerned in a waltz. I move over to where I see Lord and Lady d'Narley greeting guests.
"Ah, this fine fellow is a good friend of ours, Mr. Ichabod Crane," Lord d'Narley introduces me. I can observe his smile of stone, showing a few too many teeth, with a few too many laughter lines. Claire's face, similarly hard, yet smiling and compassionate, as if this were the happiest, most joyful couple that had been seen. Gentlemen extend their hands to shake mine, and introduce me to their ladies, each wearing a gown to out-do the next, each parading their wealth, each hiding their unhappiness behind money. But I did not have to, neither did Claire, for even though she was dressed in the most beautiful gown that I have ever had the pleasure of seeing a lady in, I knew she would be happy wearing any attire, undertaking any task, with the right person.
"Lady d'Narley, you look beautiful," I comment, sighting Lord d'Narley's stare as I kiss her hand, she smiles.
"You brush up quite well yourself, Mr. Crane," she says. "Would you like to dance, Geoffrey?" He smiles slightly, still with an eye firmly fixed on me, and takes Claire to the dance floor where they encompass it gracefully in the waltz. I stand by as a looker-on, occasionally catching the eyes of gracious young ladies, but I do not dance. I am asked once if I would like to, but dancing has never been a popular pastime for me, and with what I know must commence this night, I do not feel to dance.
Between dances, Claire catches my eye, or slips me a word, telling me that all is well for the moment, that we are safe so a few minutes more. At the end of a dance with particularly intricate steps, she comes by me, applauding other dancers.
"Leave now, leave everything you brought to Upper House here, except money. I will leave in three dances time. Go to the stables. I'll meet you there," she advises, still applauding.
"Will the servants not be there, tending horses?" I ask.
"No, there might be one or two, but when there are balls they are pardoned from their duties and a commonly found dancing in the room below the ballroom, they celebrate also, Ichabod." She leaves, and resumes her dancing position with her husband. I wait for the introduction of the song to finish, and then quietly slip out of the ballroom, heading past a bathroom, for cautionary measure, and out towards the stables.
There is one servant with the horses, and they are asleep on the hay. I take the reigns of one horse, and wait patiently until I hear footsteps coming towards me. Claire opens the stables door, shutting it quietly behind her. She creeps over to me. But Lord d'Narley opens the stables door before she gets here.
"Sneaking out?" he asks, walking boldly towards us. Panic-stricken, I look to Claire.
"The rake!" she suggests. I follow her gaze and my eyes fall upon a rake standing in the hay. Taking better control of the horse, I direct it towards where the rake is, holding the tool like a spear as we gallop towards the Lord. The plan is foiled however, when the door to the stables opens and Maisy appears, a look of pure horror upon her face when she sees what is about to commence. The speed of the Lord and the speed of the horse are somewhat different. He does make an attempt to get out of the horse's path, but fails. Closing my eyes as the rake makes contact with his body I feel the spikes stabbing through him and I hear his last gasp of air.
Maisy runs towards him, tenderly holding his hand and stroking his hair.
"My Lord?" she asks. She looks up at me, a glare upon her face.
I see the lifeless body, laying on the hay, and can not accept what I have just done. I dismount and take a few tentative steps towards him, as Claire pulls me back, a sly smile appearing on her pretty face.
"That was not so hard now, was it, Ichabod?" she asks of me. Still I cannot speak, just look on at a former Lord, a life crushed from being, a death I took a hand in.
Maisy closes the Lord's eyes gently and kisses his forehead. Suddenly turning her sadness towards Claire and myself in anger.
Claire pulls me towards the horse, and all but lifts me upon it, quickly discarding her outer dress and sitting behind me, taking the reigns, as we ride out into the night.