Here's a lovely historical piece by Anne Gallagher. I love the easy flow of her story and her ability to convey so much about Ophelia in such a short piece. I wanted to continue reading--what do you mean that was the end?
Do enjoy the Caymore's Holiday Ball with Miss Trent.
If you enjoy the story please share it on the networks which would be a lovely gift for the hardworking author.
Miss Ophelia Trent stood breathless
at the top of the stairs. She clutched her reticule, still unbelieving the Duke
and Duchess of Caymore had invited her to their Holiday Ball. Ophelia gazed
down at her mother’s old gown and wondered what people would think. There had
been neither time, nor money for anything new, and now, standing here in the
grand ballroom, Ophelia knew she should not have accepted. She would be a
laughingstock. A penniless baronet’s daughter trying to pose as a member of the
aristocracy? What balderdash!
“Miss
Trent,” Lady Penelope said, startling Ophelia.
“I’m so glad you could come. Your dress is quite lovely.”
“Thank
you for the invitation, your ladyship,” Ophelia said and bobbed a short curtsy
for the second time that night. “I must confess I am very surprised you thought
to include me, as our previous meeting was rather brief.” Ophelia remembered
that day at the Bainbridge Hotel and winced with embarrassment.
Lady
Penelope took her arm and propelled her through the massive throng. “I have
longed to further our acquaintance, and perhaps introduce you to some of my
friends. As for a confession,” Lady Penelope leaned closer, “I understand how
very hard it must be for you to meet people and I thought perhaps your mother
would approve. I’m so glad she allowed
you to attend.”
“Yes,
Mother was quite in rapture,” Ophelia said. Her mother had nearly had an
apoplexy when Ophelia showed her the invitation.
Lady
Penelope moved through the crowd like a double-masted schooner with full sail,
smiling and waving as she went along, not stopping until she reached a small
group of people standing near the terrace doors. Lady Penelope introduced her
to all of her friends, and Ophelia blushed to her toes when introduced to Mr.
Jonathon Garrick. Taller than she and exceedingly handsome, Ophelia was at a
loss to remember when last her heart had hammered so.
Upon
hearing the musicians, the Duke of Caymore, Lady Penelope’s husband, said,
“Come Pen, we must dance the first.”
Ophelia
watched enviously as all her new acquaintance moved to the dance floor. As she
stood there feeling foolish, wishing she were home in bed, Mr. Garrick stood
before her.
“Miss
Trent, do allow me the honor of your hand for this dance.”
Ophelia
flustered. “Mr. Garrick, that would be lovely, thank you.”
Mr.
Garrick proved to be a delightful dancer. He did not step on her toes, and
moved with a grace that belied his imposing height.
When
he brought her back to the corner of the terrace, Ophelia thanked him again for
the dance. As she stood there uncertain of what she should do, several
gentlemen asked for introductions and as her dance card filled, Ophelia wanted
to cry from happiness. She had never in her whole life met with such agreeable
and amiable companionship. The affinity she felt meeting Lady Penelope’s
friends gave her a new outlook, at least for the night. Her troubles melted
away along with the concerns about her old-fashioned gown. She had received numerous compliments on it
from men as well as women.
Mr.
Garrick danced with Ophelia several times. Surely, it was not like a man to be
so singular in his attentions, but Ophelia didn’t examine it too closely. This
was a once in a lifetime prospect, for she knew she would never be given
another invitation to a ball. Her life
revolved around her family, but just for tonight, she would heed her mother’s
advice and take every opportunity to enjoy herself.
When
Mr. Garrick asked her for the supper waltz, Ophelia could barely keep the smile
from her face. Her first waltz, and in the arms of this handsome gentleman, was
enough to make her swoon.
As
the music ended, and they stood on the edge of the parquet, Mr. Garrick leaned
down and asked, “Have you an escort for supper?”
“Why,
no,” Ophelia said. She hadn’t even
thought of that.
“Allow
me.” He proffered his arm. “Although, shall we wait until this mass has
thinned?” Mr. Garrick asked as they neared the overcrowded dining room. His
warm hand rested over hers on his arm.
“Oh,
yes, let’s do,” Ophelia said. “Perhaps we could find a quiet corner for the
nonce.”
“As
you wish.” Mr. Garrick led her to a small table and chairs on the opposite side
of the great room.
When
Ophelia settled her skirts, she looked at Mr. Garrick expectantly. He merely
stared at her with large grey eyes that crinkled in the corners. Perhaps she
should be the one to speak first.
“Mr. Garrick, I want to thank you so very
much for your kindness this evening. It has been most welcome. I know not a
soul here, and thought I would be sitting with the dowagers.”
“I
must confess, Miss Trent, and forgive me for being so forward, but, you have
quite bewitched me.”
“Mr.
Garrick,” Ophelia whispered. “Surely, you jest.” The idea of bewitching him
seemed impossible. Here she sat, a simple baronet’s daughter too long on the
shelf, in a borrowed antique gown. She
had learned earlier in the evening he had resigned his commission in the Navy
after Trafalgar. Perhaps he had suffered a head injury.
“No,” he said. “I do not.” He looked deep
into her eyes. “When Lady Penelope told me about you, she never shared with me
your exquisite beauty, or your humble character.”
Ophelia
blanched. “Pray what else did she tell you?” She hoped not the scandalous tale
of how she and Lady Penelope actually met.
“Only
that you are the sweetest, gentlest, creature I could ever hope to meet, and if
I were a man with any sense, I would declare my affections immediately.”
“Mr.
Garrick, I know not what to say.”
“Say,
I may court you. Say I may call upon your family. I know this is rather sudden,
but say you will be my wife.”
“Mr.
Garrick!” Ophelia could not be hearing him correctly. Surely, he did not just
say he wanted her for his wife.
“Miss
Trent,” he said solemnly. “I know this seems a bit of a shock, to myself as
well, but I have been searching for a woman of your caliber for a very long
time, and have never found her. Until now.
I vowed when such a time came, I would not waste another moment vacillating
between my head and my heart.” He got down on one knee and took up her hand.
“Miss Trent, I am entirely in your hands.”
Of
all the things Ophelia had previously thought about this night, garnering a
marriage proposal had never been one of them.
“Mr.
Garrick,” Ophelia said, gathering her wits. “Having only just met, I am a bit
overwhelmed by your passion. However, I
will confess, I do like you, very much it seems, so I will say yes to a
courtship. As for marriage, I am hardly
in a position to accept at this moment, so we shall see what the future brings.
That being said, I believe I would like you to escort me into supper now.”
Mr.
Garrick kissed her hand and helped her up, his smile outshining the candles in
the chandelier. “Your wish is my
command, my dear.”
Ophelia
thought she had never had a lovelier Christmas wish come true.
You can find Anne and more about her writing:
