- Chapter 23 -

The Baroness of Rosforte organized an opulent Christmas Feast followed by a New Year's ball, the guest list was pages long; Katherine Gray and Mrs Wheaton – who had been enlisted to aid with the planning and preparation – were overwhelmed. Among the guests were thankfully some they knew well; the Grays, Mr Routley, the new Mr and Mrs Harding (naturally), and Mrs Lestrand from Chatham; and some they wished they knew less, namely the Overtons.

Katherine Gray stood before the floor-length mirror in the room she had been given when she had first moved into Rosforte. That day now seemed so long ago. She stared at her black satin gown as Cecilia and Betsey played with her hair.

"Kat, dearest, whatever is the matter!?" Cecilia cried upon seeing her sisters' eyes well with tears.

"This might have been my first Christmas with Benedict, and my child...Instead I stand alone and in black. I do not wish to join a joyous crowd, counting blessings, being thankful, doing good deeds and giving good tidings. I hate them!"

"You do not hate them!" Betsey determined, joining Cecilia in wrapping Katherine in a tight hug "You are merely grieving, Love."

"I am..s-so unhappy!" Kat bawled. Her sisters cooed and petted and dried her tears, and led her down to dinner once she was fit to be seen.

She ate robotically through the greater duration of the grand feast, barely hearing the deafening volume of chatter around her. Cecilia, who sat just next, jostled her while reaching for a bun, bringing Katherine momentarily to the present.

"...And though the stewards house at Norcastle suits us well, it is Mr Harding Sr's home and he has been displaced until we can find a place of our own, so it would not be fair for us to dawdle. It is proving difficult to find anything nearby."

"Why Cecilia," Katherine cut in "Of course, you should take Landyn House!"

"We could not! That is your home!"

"I haven't lived in it long enough to consider it home, surely. That aside, I have been back at Rosforte these last few months more often than I have been at Landyn House, it wishes to be lived in once more."

"Are you certain Kat? What think you Harding?"

"I think if she is truly willing to sell it to us, no place would suit us better; it is only an half-hour ride from Compton."

"I am most willing!" Kat insisted with a very real smile, "You must have it! It is settled!" Her smile faded soon after however, and after dinner she retired to her room telling Miss Compton she suffered a headache.

~~~

Despite New Years being nearly a week away, the next evening brought with it the New Year's ball. Katherine hid easily in the shadows in her mourning grey; feeling too out of place to join the happy laughter and swirling red, blue, gold, and green gowns glittering in the bright light of the chandeliers.

She watched and listened to the music; finding a little joy mixed with melancholy in seeing Cecilia dance with Harding, and Betsey dance for the third time with a shy-ish youth who looked both besotted and overwhelmed as she talked with a constant, cheerful rapidity that could rival the early birds in spring.

Katherine plucked at her black satin gloves, bored and lonely.

Mrs Adalia Overton chittered to another lady nearby in audible tones. "How distressing it is not to have Bianca here with me, there are unfortunately few people I care to share company with here; the Baroness is always far too liberal with her invitations, and as a result her gatherings are too often packed with rabble. My poor dear sister." She lamented. The feathered lady next to her nodded consolingly. "She had such a difficult life, and her son gave her so little joy in the end with his gambling and shameful behavior; I was always amazed at her kind heart, it was too soft and she worried so; it's what took her in the end – wicked boy, he always took advantage of her."

She then stared sideways at Katherine in such an obvious way Kat struggled in her efforts to ignore it. "Many people tried to take advantage of her you know, some using her son in their efforts to do so." The friend's face showed fierce disapproval, feathers trembling in agreement as Bianca continued.. "Some people can manipulate their way into wealth and power in the most shocking ways. I do so despise the nouveau riche"

An exasperated Kat decided she needed silence and swept away. She muttered to herself as she all but stomped down the hall. "Nouveau riche?! Nouveau riche indeed, Mrs Overton, and what are you? An heiress? A queen? No, an orphan without so much as a family name!" Katherine wandered, irritation slowly abating, and found herself eventually in her favorite part of Rosforte – the conservatory. Hearing the twitter of birds, she followed it to the centre of the expansive conservatory where she knew the massive birdcage was found.

As she stepped into the tiny square, she found she was not alone in observing the flighty creatures; a man stood with a hand on the intricate bars of the cage, a man whom the lights of surrounding lamp-posts revealed to be Brandon Routley. The thick scars creeping up over his jaw shone and she shuddered a little despite herself.

Katherine first turned back around to sneak quietly away, then squaring her shoulders with a frown decided against it and approached the cage to watch the birds with him.

They both opened their mouths to speak, he ushered her on with a wave of a hand.

A hint of a smile showed her thanks "You needn't answer if you don't wish...I was just going to ask after your injury...I suppose you are sick of speaking of it?"

He brushed a finger over the mottled skin where his earlobe melded into his upper jaw. "Ah..no, to speak true. Everyone is desperately curious judging by how they stare, yet they avoid or dance around the subject like they would around hot coals. It makes it worse really...How may I satisfy your curiosity my lady?" his lips almost twitched into a smile.

A little embarrassed, she continued hesitantly "Well...I just...does it hurt terribly?"

He did smile a little then, down at his hands "It does now and then, if I dream of it. It is mostly uncomfortable and numb. My hand," he stretched his left hand a little, pockmarked skin across his palm utterly inflexible, keeping him from opening it fully "is the worst, it perpetually feels as though I have slept on it, especially if I touch something."

He grinned at her suddenly "Ah. My face is the oddest thing, when I am hungry, or see or smell something particularly delectable, it starts drooling...just here." he pointed just below his ear.

"What?!" She exclaimed, laughing "Oh that is horrifying! How did you disguise it during dinner yesternight? Did no one notice?"

He rubbed his forehead, smiling awkwardly "Erm, yes, my claim was the heat...the room was stuffy.."

"My poor Mr Routley!" She chuckled "It seems the greater battle began once you arrived home!"

His smile faltered and she mentally chided herself, quickly changing the subject "Did you see the young man Betsey partnered with three dances? I have not seen him before and haven't had the chance to ask her."

"I don't...I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

"Oh. That's alright, one can't really be expected to know exactly who is dancing with who; especially at events this size."

"No, yes quite..."

She poked a finger through the bars, stroking the feathers of a curious red songbird who promptly flew away.

"The older gentleman..." Routley started, "the one you danced with during the second polonaise...who was he?"

"Oh you mean Mr Gray, of course. He is...he is Benedict's father." Her happy demeanor wavered considerably. "I am surprised you have not met the Grays, one would think you would have considering they live not an hour away and are invited often to Rosforte."

"I have met the sons, I don't recall being introduced to the father.... My apologies, it was unfeeling of me to bring up the subject, I didn't realize.."

"It is alright." said she quietly "There is no gain in never speaking of the dead, I wouldn't wish him to be forgotten. We are the same it seems, both burdened with a recent past that everyone thinks about yet no one dares speak of; or, at least, not in our presence."

"True. Though they cannot be faulted for it, death and disfigurement are heavy subjects indeed and they would not wish to offend."

"Death and disfigurement. Are they to be what define us?" The question was a rhetorical one. She sighed with a wry smile, her gaze on the fingers she brushed over the bars.

He chuckled "An inescapable fate; though better, I suppose, than gold-chaser and rake."

"My family is far from being gold-chasers, despite what they may say."

"No matter, gossip comes and goes." he reassured her, "Our 'misfortunes' will not hold the interest of the almighty 'they' much longer and things will be as they were...for the most part." Katherines eye caught him flexing his scarred fist with a clenched jaw; she suspected it was far more uncomfortable than he let on, but she said nothing, merely gave him a smile.

~~~

That night Katherine Gray sat at her writing desk, diary open before her. She tapped her pen against the inkwell to a slow and painfully constant rhythm. Betsey sat on the bed, chin tucked between her knees, watching.

"Nothing interesting to write dearest?"

Tap. Tap. Sigh. "Oh! I know there are things I could write. I just can't seem to form the words to actually write them."

Betsey raised a brow in question.

Katherine stood abruptly and threw herself upon the sheets beside her sister "I am tired and I can't comprehend my own thoughts. Distract me Bet; tell me, who was that young man you danced with nearly every dance? The quiet, awkward looking one."

Betsey laughed "Gracious! It was not nearly every dance. I suppose you mean Mr Rook. I would not call him awkward, he is merely shy and speaks few words. It is a good quality I dare say, for when he does venture to speak it is to say something either very whimsical, very witty, or very wise. I quite enjoyed his company."

"You surprise me, I thought you may have been accepting his invitations out of politeness. Your characters are so opposite one from the other I thought you might have been wearied of him by nights end."

"Not at all, and he moves so gracefully smooth, decidedly the best dance partner I had all night. Oh! You know who else turned up quite late to the ball, at nearly eleven, none other than Mr Sebastien Gray. I danced with him twice, and he is so charming and gentlemanly; all the ladies were practically scrapping over him, I dare say he's quite the better looking of the Gray men...or, was...I mean...erm..." Betsey stuttered, then shut her mouth. She finished shamefacedly, "Pity you didn't see him."

Katherine gave her sister's hand a squeeze and re-directed the conversation. "It seems you will be the belle of the ball this coming season, and will be married before the next year is out."

"Perish the thought!" Betsey cried, paffing her sister with a pillow. "I am far too wild a spirit as yet, it will take an extraordinary man to capture me!"

"Ah yes, and I pity the poor man who eventually does, he will have his hands full!" Kat giggled as they dove beneath the warmth of the covers of the wide bed. The candles were blown out and as Betsey's breathing slowed and lengthened Katherine watched the moonlight on the pillow next to her.

She slid her fingers through the beam, playing with the blue light, then hovered her hand over the pillow. For a brief moment her husband was once again next to her, but the memory soon vanished from her mind. With a little sigh Katherine dropped her hand, gazing at it blankly. She turned on her back and closed her eyes.