AN: Here's an original story about vampires that don't sparkle...
The ballroom was well-lit and filled with people. Colours swirled around as couples danced. Matrons watched approvingly – or disapprovingly, as the case may be – while gossiping behind their fans. It was the social event of the year, the annual Redwood Ball hosted by the elusive Earl of Redwood. Attendance was by invitation only, and invitations were hard to come by, and thus highly coveted, despite the distance many people had to travel to reach Redwood Keep. Each year attendees returned full of stories of the lavish hall, the music, the refreshments – everything but the man himself, who left as fleeting an impression at his ball as he did during any business meeting.
People might think him little more than a legend, a figment of the imagination, if not for two things. One, who organised the ball, if not the earl? And two, everyone had this one friend or family member who'd been to the castle on business, and actually met him. When asked, they spoke of a serious man, who rarely smiled but listened gravely, unvaryingly polite but aloof. Some talked of the blackness of his clothes or the whiteness of his hair, but that was all the impression most people managed to come away with. It seemed sometimes that they forgot nearly all details of their visit as soon as it was over.
A very few people mentioned odd spikes that adorned his clothes, but those reports were widely regarded as false – who would voluntarily walk around with spikes? All in all, most people would not recognise the early if they met him in the street, even though he was all anyone talked about both in the run-up and aftermath of his balls.
Elizabeth Bell put little stock in the rumours. Sure, she'd done her share of speculating about the earl, but at the end of the day that was all it was – rumours, and hearsay, and so, so much conjecture. Her sister Theodora was the one who was obsessed with the earl, to the point where she'd concocted a whole personality out of the tidbits that everyone agreed on. It would be hilarious, if it wasn't so sad. Somehow Dora had convinced herself that if only she could attend the infamous ball, she'd actually meet the earl (even thoguh almost nobody did), they'd fall madly in love (because that was the sort of romantic fool that she was) and get married. Elizabeth usually managed to deflate her day-dreaming with one well-timed question: "Have you found out his name yet?"
Nobody knew the Earl of Redwood's name. When people talked about him – as they often did, since he had power, money, influence and mysteriousness on his side – all they ever said was 'The Earl' or 'Redwood', but no actual god-given full name. It annoyed Elizabeth to no end that Dora kept fantasising about marrying a man she did not even know the name of. Still, her family had no dealings with the man, and so she'd been able to curb Dora's worst excesses. After all, one could not marry a man if one had no opportunity to meet.
Until that day some weeks ago, when a horseman in black-and-white livery delivered hand-written invitations to the Redwood Ball for the whole Bell family. Elizabeth could not help but wonder how they'd reached the earl's attention. They were an affluent enough family, but hardly among the most prominent or illustrious in the land. Still, however it had happened, they were hardly going to turn down such a golden opportunity. Dora was in raptures, her fantasy working overtime, and this time there was no curbing her fancy.
And so Elizabeth found herself at Redwood Castle, her red hair done up elegantly and wearing a wonderful red ballgown with tasteful golden accents, and dancing to her heart's content. She loved dancing, much more so than all of the other lady-like pursuits her mother was always forcing on her. Despite the rigidity of the forms, there was a sort of freedom in dancing that she simply did not find in embroidery or drawing.
By long force of habit, she very studiously did not single out any one gentleman in particular, and just as studiously ignored the disapproving glare her mother sent her way. She loved Mary Bell, really she did, but this was a point of contention between them that was unlikely to ever go away. Simply put, her mother wanted her to marry, preferably a man with money and a title, although a reputable tradesman would do in a pinch, and Elizabeth was... supremely uninterested in the matrimonial state. She did not want a husband, and she most certainly did not want children. She'd just as soon sail to the New World and see if she could make her own way there.
Just as one dance ended, Elizabeth spotted her sister, who was sitting by herself in a corner, her arms wrapped around herself. She went over and kneeled beside Dora, heedless of her gown. Tears were brimming in her sister's blue eyes, seconds away from falling.
"What's wrong, Dory?" she asked, while grabbing a handkerchief to dab away the tears. She could take a guess, but she'd rather let Dora tell her.
"I haven't met him yet!" Dora whispered. No need to ask who she meant with 'him', of course. "By this time in the evening I would have met the earl, and we'd have danced all the dances together, and I haven't, and now everything is ruined!"
And there it was. That was what you got from not living in reality. A lot of heartbreak for nothing. Normally she'd have little patience for her sister's drama, but tonight she could indulge her a little.
"There now, my sweet. Is this how you want to draw the earl's attention? By sitting in a corner and crying? I'll bet he'd be much more drawn to someone who was having fun."
Dora looked at her for a moment, then she blinked away the tears and nodded, determination filling her fair face. "You are right, sister. I am going out there and I'm going to have fun, and then he'll want to meet me."
Just then, a young man approached. She'd danced with him already this evening, so she was not having him again, lest her mother get any ideas. When he bowed and asked for the next dance, she curtseyed back politely and said, "Oh, I simply must catch my breath, good sir, but thank you for asking. This is my sister, Dora. She is quite well-rested, I believe."
Soon enough, Dora was dancing with the young man, whose name she could not for the life of her remember, while Elizabeth took Dora's place on the chair, watching the dance for a moment or two.
She was just resolving to walk around to give another gentleman a chance to ask her to dance, when she noticed a draft coming from somewhere close by. She was sitting next to some maroon curtains. When she peeked behind them, she saw a simple wooden door standing slightly ajar.
Hmm. To go or not to go, that was the question. On the one hand, a careful balancing act between having fun and not leading anyone on, under Mother's watchful eye. On the other, an open door and a mystery. Well, they did say curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. She was going exploring.
The corridor behind the door was dark, much darker than the brightly lit ballroom. Candles flickered in sconces spaced well apart. The transition blinded her temporarily, but a few steps in her eyes got used to the darkness and she managed to make out some details. The floor was richly carpeted – her feet kept sinking into it. A quick glance behind showed her nobody was following, especially not Mary Bell. With a quiet laugh, Elizabeth kicked off her shoes and took them in her hand. With the other she trailed the wood-panelled walls, where she could just make out elaborate carvings. How rich was Redwood, that he could so lavishly decorate a corridor?
She passed several doors, but none of them were unlocked, so she could not see what was behind them. She was just debating returning to the ball, when she came upon an ornate double door. That was her cue, she decided. If that door was locked, she'd go back the way she'd come, but she simply had to at least try.
She put her shoes down, placed her hands on both doorknobs, and pushed. Almost soundlessly the doors slid open just far enough for her to go through.
Some steps in, she saw that she was in a library. And not any old library, either. It was massive, with bookcases going up to the ceiling, too high for her to see all the way to the top in the little light coming in from the hallway, and stretching out into the disatnce. From here, she could only guess at how far they kept going.
She ventured further inside, because... well, she'd come this far. It would be a shame to turn back now.
Some distance away she noticed the glow of a fireplace. She ventured closer, figuring if anyone was here, that's where she'd find them. "Hello?" she called softly. Nobody answered, but she did find the hearth, with two comfortable looking couches. Between the couches there was a low table with one of those new grammophones prominently displayed.
She wasn't sure why the lack of people disappointed her. It seemed like an anticlimactic ending of her little adventure. She sighed and went to sit on one of the couches. She'd just sit here for a little while, she thought, and then she'd go and rejoin society.
There was a book lying next to the grammophone. Apparently someone did use this place regularly. The elusive earl, perhaps? She took it up and leafed through it, intending to put it back in a moment. She'd just read a page or so, and then she'd go back to the dancing.