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Finally, the day of the masked ball arrived. The ballroom was beautiful. Not that had I expected anything less. It looked like a winter wonderland, with the white silks and fabrics draped all around. Little specs of light reflected off the fabrics giving the appearance of snow. I almost believed it was falling snow.
As requested, all the guests wore some sort of mask. My own mask was a black one that covered my eyes, with a bejeweled horn jutting out of the center of the forehead. It was a rare black unicorn, or rather I was a rare black unicorn. I thought it was perfect when I saw it. My dress was such a dark green, it was almost black. Black lace trimmed the bodice of my dress and skirt.
I moved around the room, taking everything in. No, beautiful did not even begin to describe the room. It was beyond beautiful—it was exquisite.
I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. “May I have this dance?” The man wore a black mask as well, but his had no adornment. In fact, he wore all black.
“You may,” I replied, with a curtsy as he extended his hand. It too covered by a black glove.
“I am glad you could come,” he said.
I thought that odd. Why was he glad I could come? Did he mean me personally, or did he mistake me for someone else?
“I’m not overly fond of balls, or large groups of people,” I admitted.
“Neither am I, Elizabeth.”
“It appears you do recognize me, Sir.” Intrigued, I wanted to know who I was dancing with. How did he know who I was?
“I do know you. In a way,” he amended.
“Do I know you as well then?”
“We may have met,” came the mysterious reply. I was sure I had heard this man’s voice before, but where?
“Do you always answer questions this way?”
“I am known to not answer questions.” His voice held a lightness despite the seriousness of his tone.
“So you know who I am, I may know you as well, and you don’t like questions?” I stifled a laugh.
“Precisely.”
“What should I call you then?” I tilted my head to the side as I regarded this strange masked man, wishing I could see his face. He smelled of pine trees and peppermint.
“George,” he answered. As if that was the only logical answer.
“Isn’t that highly improper?” I was glad for my mask as I gazed up into the eyes of this mysterious George. His eyes were brown, friendly, welcoming. They held a glint of something, I wasn’t sure what. I noticed his hair was a very dark brown.
“It could be,” George said leaning in to whisper. “But it will just be between us.”
“Oh.” I was at a complete loss of words. “Tell me, how do I know you?”
“Many know of me,” George answered, “Yet very few know me.”
“More riddles?” I felt confused, and oddly, delighted. Here was a puzzle to figure out.
“If I told you, you might not believe me.”
“Try me.” I challenged.
“Someday I will.”
“Not this night?”
“No,” George said. “Not this night.” And with that, he returned me to my seat, which I had been unaware we were heading.
“Who were you dancing with, Mouse?” Sarah Jane asked as I took a seat.
“I don’t know, he wouldn’t say.” I felt disappointed. “He only gave me his first name.”
“How interesting.”
I watched George slip into the crowd. I wondered if I would see him again. “He could have told me.”
“Well, in a masked ball, one isn’t expected to reveal who they are." Sarah Jane watched the merriment around us for a moment. “There’s Mr. Throckmorten and Aunt Pen.”
“I’m hoping I can avoid dancing with him.”
Sarah Jane studied me a moment. “He likes you, you know.”
“Who does?” I didn’t need to ask.
“Mr. Throckmorten.” Sarah Jane’s answer was soft.
“That’s a problem, I don’t want to be liked.” I sighed. Loved, sure. Eventually. But not right now. No, right now I just needed to concentrate on keeping Sarah Jane, Edward, and James happy and safe. “Let’s go take a walk,” I added as I noticed Mr. Throckmorten leaving Aunt Pen with a group of older women. “Are you enjoying yourself?” I inquired, noticing a slight flush darken my sister’s cheeks.
“I am.” Sarah Jane smiled. “Which of the men do you suppose is the Marquis?”
“I think with all the masks it would be hard to tell. But he’s an older gentleman is he not?”
“It would be quite an experience to actually meet him.” Sarah Jane replied with a nod.
We walked in silence for a while when Sarah Jane grabbed my arm.
“There he is!” Sarah Jane gave a nod towards a tall man dressed all in faded brown, and in his hand was a very plain burlap mask.
“The Marquis?” I asked.
The man Sarah Jane indicated was talking to another gentleman, whose back was to us.
“No, the man I danced with, Tristan.” Sarah Jane clarified. “Isn’t that the man you were just dancing with?”
“It does look like it is him, but, there might be someone else wearing similar attire. You know, all black.”
“Your gentleman didn’t remove his mask,” Sarah Jane commented. I noticed that too. The two of them left the ballroom together, Tristan slapping George on the back.
“He isn’t my gentleman,” I whispered.
––––––––
As the evening was drawing to a close, George found me. “I would very much like to see you again, Little Unicorn.”
“Perhaps you will,” I said. “I still have the riddle of your identity to solve.”
“Would it be all right with you, if I extended an invitation to you and your family to stay for a while at my family estate?”
“Yes, I think it would be,” I answered, although why I couldn’t say.