Not unnaturally, the villagers were curious. And so on the night of July 26th, they flocked to the house. Each human being was clothed in the brightest colours of their choosing in honour of a woman whose beauty was the only thing they knew about her. The main hall was a sea of crystal light, a place alive with festivity and expectation, even the vicar and his new curate looked thrilled to be there and more than one village girl found the handsome curate’s shining hair distracting.
Lucy herself arrived at the top of the grand staircase, daringly decollete in a silk cream gown. She waved to the villagers then descended the stairs on the arm of her striking friend, who was still wearing black, but this time a black that made watchers think of ravens and ancient slate.
‘They look a remarkable couple’ said Thomas to his daughter Miriam. ‘Perhaps the village will come alive again.’
Miriam didn’t reply immediately. Then she said,’ They do look remarkable – I wonder whether they will speak as we are doing now father.’
‘Speak? Why should they? I wouldn’t be surprised if they ever speak to us at all. Too much has gone on, they have their own concerns I am sure. ‘
‘I quite agree with you Thomas.’ said Sally a neighbour who wrote poetry. ‘That girl knows far more than anyone should. Mind you, Silence heals they say. And look at her friend. He’s not a talker either. He’s an enigma- I can feel it. ‘Sally touched Thomas on the arm and smiled.
‘You love mysteries Sally, don’t you?’ Said Thomas
‘I do ‘said Sally and Thomas lit another cigar.
The night went on and Jack Cavendish’s cellar released many of its wonders to the party. Figures in white served what seemed to be endless glasses of champagne and the darkest vintage wine. No one refused any other of yet another glass, except for Miriam who sipped her champagne slowly and kept her eyes fixed on the host couple. Sally and Thomas did their best to include her in their conversation about Christmas and their domestic plans, but Miriam rarely replied and so they left her to her fascination.
Lucy Cavendish’s invitations had stated that the party would end at 2am. This had been underlined. So conversations hastened on, fuelled by a never ending supply of fine alcohol. The hall took on an air of feverish liberation.
Dancing began at 11pm and Miriam smiled her blessing at her father and Sally (they looked so cosy together tonight) and wandered off in search of a bathroom. The first large bathroom enjoyed a long laughing queue so Miriam carried on and crossed into an inner hall, discovering a small bath room where all sounds ceased. Miriam closed the door and sat on the tiled floor. She wanted to know if her intuition proved right.
She took out a tiny notebook and an ink pen. After a while, she finished what she was doing and checked her appearance in a long silver mirror. Yes, she would do nicely tonight. People might still overlook her for a time, but there was something about her eyes nowadays. Keen they were, like a lynx let out to prowl. She could almost feel her fur. She bit her lower lip. Now how talented was she after all?
Miriam opened the door. There was only one couple waiting for the room. Their faces were averted and they were talking quietly. When they turned to look at Miriam, she knew. She absolutely knew. The couple approached her as Miriam knew they would. Lucy and her friend nodded. Miriam blushed. The friend noticed and held out a smooth, ungloved hand.
‘I am Alex.’
‘Miriam Hartcastle. ’
‘Hello. So are you pleased with our party tonight, Miriam Hartcastle? ‘
‘I have never been to a party, like this. I have never really been to a party. ‘said Miriam.
‘Well, I am glad you came to this one Miriam. We wanted something unforgettable.,’
It’s nearly unforgettable darling. Not quite there yet. ‘ said Lucy.
‘Not quite where yet? ‘ asked Miriam. For some reason she felt glad of her shawl.
‘Let me show you my flowers’ said Lucy and Miriam followed the couple into a large room with a French window now darkly reflecting the grandest spray of flowers Miriam had ever seen. Each flower seemed to have its own character and Miriam guessed they were a gift from Alex.
‘Their colours are so deep and so individual. I stand and gaze at them, awestruck, and you know, I feel they are looking at me too. ‘
‘They are riveted. Besotted’ said Alex. They touched hands.
A card was attached to the vase. Miriam leaned down to make out the tiny hand writing which read ‘To my dearest darling-Resurgam!’
‘No one says things like that in my house’ laughed Miriam looking at Alex.
‘oh, they are not from me’ said Alex. ‘Far too stylish and flamboyant I am afraid. But I wrote the card in a way I suppose.’
‘In a way?’ teased Lucy.
Miriam kept her eyes on Alex and noticed a slight tightening of the skin about the mouth. But then Alex’s eyes lit up and a slight sigh escaped.
‘You are a little watcher aren’t you?’ Intervened Lucy holding up another glass of champagne. ‘Come on let’s drink to tomorrow. ‘
