5. The servants' ball (2CS)

Richard Clarkson was not very fond of social events, balls even less, and honestly didn't even truly know why he had been tricked into going in the first place. It was not like he had been personally invited by the Granthams after all; it was all Isobel's fault instead, asking him to go with her as merely friends in order to be surrounded by one familiar face more. But she was certainly a more social animal than he was and, in spite of the still frequent disagreements, the Granthams were still her family, and so it didn't take long for the two of them to split their ways and him finding himself in one corner of the room, basically alone and dangerously attracted to the table of the drinks. So, after some short casual talks mostly with Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson, he took his first chance to excuse himself with Isobel and leave, even using the downstairs's door not to attract attention.

However, if he had walked quickly until that moment in the unusually desolated area of the house, he stopped abruptly when he arrived right in front of that needed door. It was wide open to the snow in fact and there was a woman with her back turned sitting on the floor in front of it, unavoidably blocking the passage. It was not a too well-known figure actually, but the refined coat she was wearing and the peculiar hair colour could not lead to anyone likely to attend the party except for one person.

"Lady Rosamund… You should keep that door shut, it is frozing out there!"

She didn't even bother to turn and, as she answered, her voice came tired and softened by the glass of wine she was currently hiding her face into. "I do not care."

"Well, I do" he quickly objected seriously, obtaining at least the result of making her glancing at him in surprise. "I am a Doctor" he added then, as if that could be explanation enough for meddling in the bad moment of someone he had never actually spoken to before. To himself at least, it sounded like that.

Her initial fletting glance soon became a persistent one, as she narrowed her eyes in the memory effort of recognizing him and finally she succeeded, as her slight nod confirmed. "Oh yes, Doctor Clarkson right?" she asked, while noting in her mind that as elegant as he looked that night, he could have easily passed for a man of a higher position.

What she didn't know though, was that he was noting something about her in his own mind as well. In fact, when she had raised her eyes from the glass with the aim to enquire about him, little did she know that in that move she had given something to enquire about in return. And, considering the watery sparkle in her look, it didn't certainly take a detective to see that she had been crying. That discovery was reason enough for him to meddle a little bit more and so, contrary to his reserved character but sticking to his professional bias of helping others, Richard took a small step closer. Silently and slowly, he sat on the floor as well in front of her, breaking the still safe distance between them only to offer her his own handkerchief.

"What is wrong?" he finally asked, as gently as he could, trying to win his own uneasiness for finding himself in such situations. "You are supposed to be upstairs with your family, dancing and having fun…"

Rosamund raised one eyebrow at the skeptical trace in his voice, but the actual ironic chuckle that unexpectedly came out of her mouth was caused by the content of the question itself. What kind of doctor he was, maybe a follower of that method called psychoanalisis which was very popular lately? Well, if that was the case, she was certainly not at the point of hysteria, even if the strike she had just received that night gave her a considerable push in that sense.

"So are you. But yet here you are in front of me, acting like the new Freud!"

It was Richard's turn to raise his eyebrows then for the rather curious parallel, but yet he chose to ignore it. "I'm not much for dancing. What is your excuse?" he asked instead, continuing to play his role - whichever it actually was in that moment.

The tone had been casual but a weak point had been touched and her hesitation was only proving it. In fact, the little relaxation she had achieved (maybe thanks to him or maybe thanks to the wine) was now suddenly destroyed, as she looked down and her body clearly tensed for a moment. She squeezed the handkerchief he had just handed her, as if she knew that she would have needed it soon to dry more tears to come; however, in the end, she raised the other hand instead, the one holding the wine, drinking what was left in the glass in one single gulp.

"I was supposed to get engaged with Lord Hepworth tonight, but then I literally caught him in bed with my own maid" she revealed then, in a sincere whisper that revealed now all her sadness. "And you know which is the funniest thing, Doctor? I didn't even like him that much, but I guess I liked loneliness even less… Do I sound pathetic and maybe foolish, don't I?"

"A bit, yes" came the quick surprising reply, which caused her to look up again with a single incredulous glare. But, despite the deceiving premise, he didn't want to insult her and there was actually a benevolent smile on his face. Not mocking nor compassionate, just benevolent – and maybe empathetic. "My Lady, you are smart, elegant and very… beautiful. So yes, you sound a bit foolish, because you had only luck in finding out his real intentions now and you certainly deserve better than that. This is, of course, just my opinion…"

Rosamund studied him for a long moment with the purpose to find a trace of irony that could betray the words and, when against her expectations she didn't find none of it, she just shook her head, deciding not to give much credit to his speech anyway. "You don't even know me."

"You are right. But I do see you."

Their eyes met for actually the first time then, without any embarassment nor diffidence. It was a deep eye contact, not a single glance nor a glare, and it was like they were actually seeing the other only in that very moment – at least as something different from their respective social roles. But that new and unusual connection was also exactly the reason why the embarassment started to creep in again and so, they unavoidably ended up looking away soon. A silence fell between them, one that was running through the thin line between comfortable and uncomfortable and that seemed to have the potentiality to last forever. She was the one to break it only a few minutes later, though.

"Robert?"

Looking up back at her, his first reaction was to frown in confusion. However, when he noticed her eyes staring at the two embroidered letters on his handkerchief, he just shook his head and gave her a new kind smile. "No. It's Richard."

She looked up too then and finally was able to smile sincerely back. "Well, thank you, Richard"

The doctor was the one breaking the eye contact first this time, before she could preceed him in doing so and silence could have taken over again. In front of her confused eyes, he slowly stood up from the floor and without any predictions, just came closer to her and held out his hand for her to take. He was taking her by surprise with that gesture, but most of all he was surprising himself, being so unlikely for him to take such confidence with a person of higher station than him, a person he had just met or, more simply, a woman.

"Can I have a dance?"

Funny how she was the one to have been drinking wine of the two.

Funny how he didn't even want to come at the Abbey in the first place.

Funny how he confessed not much time before not to be too much for dancing.

She let out a short incredulous laugh, but yet somehow didn't hesitate at all before leaving the bottle aside, grabbing his hand and standing up as well. They found themselves suddenly one in front of the other with the link of their hands that soon became the closer but yet still respectful link of their bodies. A music was perfectly audible from upstaris and gradually they started dancing at the rhytm of it. Thinking about it, the situation was getting even more absurd than how it had began, but then they were not thinking at all and so it only felt natural instead, and safe, and fine, a moment that made feel his repulsion for parties or her misadventure with Lord Hepworth so distant.

And on the other hand, in the night when servants and lords were exceptionally dancing together, how absurd could have actually been to see a lady and a doctor dancing in the servants hallway in front of the falling snow?

This is what truly happened right? I am almost persuaded of this and no one can tell me otherwise lol