Through A Glass Darkly

Chapter Six: A Dance and a Visit

Blanche watched from the kitchen door as the servants bustled about, making Lyall Hall shine. The lord of the house had invited a group of his closest friends for a hunting party, and had ordered the manor cleaned, the fires stoked, and the larders stocked. Blanche, who had been at Lyall Hall for nearly a year, had never seen such goings on. While she was not unfamiliar with parties-her father seemed to throw them every time the earth rotated-she had never realized just how much hard work went into them.

Lord O'Connell and his hunting buddies, along with their wives, descended on Lyall Hall that afternoon, and Blanche watched as they entered, admiring the rich clothing sported by both the men and women. She spotted Lord O'Connell, and felt her stomach give a slow flip. The master of the house, far from being a hideous ogre, was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, with jet black hair and the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

"Blanche!"

The ex-princess turned, blushing at Dorothy. "I'm sorry; it's just that this is all so exciting. Dorothy, do you think it would be possible to…watch the dance just for a little while after my chores are finished?"

Dorothy frowned, and Blanche gave her a pleading look. "Very well. If you finish cooking the soup on time, then I suppose you can go and watch. But be sure you aren't seen! His Lordship wouldn't take kindly to a servant girl mingling with his crowd."

"Oh thank you!" Blanche threw her arms around Dorothy, kissing her, and the housekeeper snorted in amusement.

"Ahh, away with ye, you silly goose! I'm not your mum; you don't need to be showering me with kisses."

Blanche giggled, and Dorothy smiled at her. Although she would never come out and say it, she had grown rather fond of the girl. Blanche was shy, but she was also kind and gentle, and a truly excellent cook. Dorothy suspected that she had some bad blood to do with her family, for whenever asked about them, she would steer the conversation to another topic. "Dorothy, I'd be proud to call you my mum."

Dorothy blinked, wiping her eyes with a spotted handkerchief. "That's right sweet of you, Blanche. Now, get to goin' on the soup!" She pretended to swat at her, and Blanche laughed and began to prepare the soup.

Twenty minutes later, it was done, and Blanche was given permission to go and watch the ball.

She ran to the small room she lived in, and washed her hands and face in the small basin that sat on a spindly legged table, then cracked open one of the walnut shells, pulling out the dress that shimmered like the stars. Once she was dressed, she made her way to the front entrance, intending to appear as an unknown visitor.

Lord O'Connell was attempting to pay attention to a young lady who was conversing with him about some silly fashion, and wishing that he had never agreed to this party when he noticed a young woman enter the room. He immediately straightened up, impressed by her beauty. "Yes, that's fascinating Lady Crowe. Would you pardon me for a moment?" Lady Crowe pouted as he detached himself from her, heading over to the mysterious woman.

Blanche felt herself trembling as Lord O'Connell approached her. "I don't believe I've seen you before, Miss."

Blanche smiled at him, her social graces coming to her rescue. "I must confess, My Lord that I have never attended a party such as this before. I hope my presence is not displeasing to you."

"Quite the contrary, My Lady. You are quite the loveliest lass here. Might I be permitted to ask you for a dance?"

Blanche gave him a dazzling smile and extended her hand. "I would be honored, my Lord." He led her onto the floor, signaling for the musicians to strike up a waltz. Blanche gulped nervously-she hadn't danced in years. Happily for her, her partner was quite accomplished, leading her effortlessly around the dance floor. "I apologize for not being a better partner, My Lord."

The smile he gave her made her stomach fill with butterflies. "Nonsense, you're a fine partner. You have not stepped on my toes once. Just relax a bit more. Now, while we are waltzing, might I know the name of my partner?"

Blanche gulped. "I…I'm sorry, I have to go!" She detached herself from him and ran out of the room as fast as she could, leaving him blinking in shock and completely confused. She reached her room and quickly shed her dress, putting her cook's outfit back on and painting her face.

"Leaving already, dearie?"

Blanche yelped in shock at the sight of Rumplestiltskin sitting on her bed. "How long were you there? !"

The imp rolled his eyes. "Princess, I only arrived a moment ago. I was hoping that you would still be out on the dance floor wooing his Lordship, but apparently you left him rather perplexed. He's not used to having lovely young maidens run away from him. Quite the opposite, in fact. So why did you run?"

Blanche groaned. "He asked me my name."

Rumple nodded solemnly. "Yes, I can see how that would make you want to run. Princess, are you forgetting that most of the people here don't know who you truly are?"

Blanche sat on the bed, her head in her hands. "You don't understand. I don't want to…I want Lord O'Connell to…like me for me."

"I understand more than you could ever imagine, Princess. Why do you think I love Red so much?" Blanche looked over at him, puzzlement on her face. "I don't love her because she threw her lot in with the Dark One. I love her because she saw past the Dark One to the man I still was. She's saved my soul and life in more ways than one."

"Do you think I was hasty in running away?"

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "I do, but there's still time to make up for your mistake. Wash that soot off yourself, put your dress back on, and go apologize to his Lordship. And for goodness sake, when he asks for your name, give it to him. Good luck, Princess." He vanished, and Blanche sighed, then washed and dressed.

Lord O'Connell was standing by the door when she came back, and he frowned at her. "My Lady, I trust you have a reason for bolting from me like a frightened deer?"

Blanche sighed in remorse. "I apologize, My Lord. I do not know what came over me. I promise to not run from you again, and I believe you wished to know my name." Lord O'Connell nodded, and she curtsied. "My name is Blanche, My Lord."

"Blanche. A lovely name for a lovely young lady. Well, Lady Blanche, I believe we were in the midst of a waltz." Blanche smiled, and they began dancing anew.

Later that night, Blanche lay in her small bed, a smile on her face as she dreamed of dancing with Lord Peter O'Connell.