Garin proved himself an adept dancer and led Miss Brightley with grace and confidence. The sweeping turns delighted her, and she wondered why she'd always avoided the ballroom, preferring to observe the masquerade from shadowy alcoves or oversized columns. Lisabeth always declared there were few things so freeing as a 'bracing dance'. Idrielle had to admit it was... enjoyable.

For her amusement, Garin pointed out some of his patients, many of which were complete oddballs with peculiar habits and offered interesting anecdotes of some of his encounters during his profession.

"Ah, yes, and there, in the gaudy purple fringe gown, is Mrs. Foyle. Keeps twenty chickens loose at her front gate ever since a fortune teller predicted her death."

He leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"That was nearly thirteen years ago—the dear woman possesses no sense of time."

Miss Brightley, catching the woman's eye, gave her a benign smile to which she, seeming at first shocked, returned with a beaming one of her own.

"Drink," said the doctor, guiding her around a rather overzealous couple, "makes her less paranoid, I'm afraid. It's rumoured her daughter spikes her glass before dinner parties."

"And what of the balding gentlemen in the yellow tailcoat? Are you acquainted with him?"

"Sir Whetherby Melbourne, a more conceited peacock never lived, although he possesses an impressive collection of Japanese art. His cousin," he pointed out a pudgy fellow with double chins and watery eyes, "suffers from a case of peas."

Miss Brightley turned to stare at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

The doctor chuckled.

"Indeed you should. Six months out of a year Sir Melbourne's cousin consumes nothing but peas and water, saying he receives spiritual visions of his late wife. Sir Melbourne has asked that I treat the man but insist on knowing the solution himself!"

His exhale suggested it was unusually challenging for him to remain composed.

"But there's nothing whatever the matter with the man. He smuggles roast suckling to his bedchambers almost every evening and on more than one occasion I've tailed him as far as Laughly's Inn, where they serve perhaps the best roast pheasant and gravy in Harwickshire."

This time, Miss Brightley could not contain herself and couldn't wait to share the ridiculousness of it all with Lizzy before bed.

"Reminds me of a character from a book I read."

"Lord Cassenby of The Merry Heights of Dayne, I presume?"

"Have you read it?"

"I have, and it holds a position among my favourites on my bookcase. It is my opinion that Brown rushed the ending and failed to mention particular details regarding the countess of Waybury."

"I was of the same opinion! And Lady Fontayne proved an unnecessary character since Lord Cassenby's brother was the culprit in the theft of the countess' prized jewels."

"I wholeheartedly agree," said the doctor. Perchance you're familiar with the tale of The Sherpherd Boy and the Bard...?"

They traversed topics with the ease of water flowing along the crevices of rocks along a stream, from literature to pastimes. The only interruption they encountered was when a gallant young man with a glossy head of hair and his pretty, dimpled cheek partner passed so closely, Miss Brightley had the impression they were eavesdropping.

Glancing over her shoulder, she and the man locked eyes.

"He's been trying to get your attention for some time now," said the doctor with indifferent calm. "I wondered how long it would be before he attempted vis-à-vis."

Wade Lambert grinned in her direction before making a face so similar to that of Lori, Miss Brightley couldn't help the amused laugh that escaped her before he disappeared in the crowd, taking a giggling Miss Poe along.

"Few can resist the humour of Wade and Lori Lambert," said the doctor, looking after his friend with a frown. "It is a strength that suits them both, I believe."

Soon after, Miss Brightley traded partners, surprised she spent most of her time being swept along the polished floors. But she had noted the stiffness that had overcome the doctor as the evening progressed despite his usual politeness while he observed a sudden withdrawal in her as her gaze often wandered towards the balustrade where she'd left her sister.

Miss Brightley, having given her last dance of the evening to her cheerful father, and feeling very much herself once more, disappeared from the ball not long after Mrs. Lambert took Lori off to bed.

She was exhausted when she returned to Lisabeth's bedchambers after Lori, having fallen asleep at last, reminisced about how much fun she'd had and repeated the many compliments she'd received throughout the evening.

"And Wade kept his promise and danced with me too, although... I think Garin had to remind him again," she said, running a silver brush through Miss Brightley's hair, a nightly ritual that gave the child immense satisfaction.

"But they both lifted me on the spins and my dress looked like a happy pink windstorm! I liked it that Wade lifted me higher, though, but I know Mama was displeased..."

Miss Brightley, stifling a yawn, settled the pillows about her sister some hours later.

"You danced beautifully, Idrie, and you looked as though you were having a wonderful time. What was Daddy saying that amused you so much?"

"It had to do with one of his clients."

"Mrs. Copson? I imagined so..."

Lisabeth stared at the flickering candle with a vacant expression.

"Mr. Lambert came to check on me after he danced with Alice. Even after Ellyn, he brought me something from the punch table. I'll admit he is a dear boy, Idrie."

Something in Lisabeth's voice kept Idrielle Brightley focused on the dresses she spread on the chair.

"Lori says you two were the talk of the evening."

Miss Brightley began returning hair clips and pins to the ivory case on the dressing table.

"Were we?"

"Quite naturally. You two danced this evening, and he made you laugh a good deal. You aren't really one to smile..."

The lingering silence made Miss Brightley's skin itch.

"Do you love him?"

There was no mistaking the tone again, and the question came with a quietness near fear, Miss Brightley thought. With her usual impassive expression, she stared at herself in the looking glass before turning to face her sister.

"Lizzy?"

"Oh, but you do!" and here Lisabeth went into a passionate sobbing that alarmed her.

"Lisabeth! Lizzy, dearest, what's the matter?"

"I don't think I can bear it!" Lisabeth said in hiccupping sobs. "You here in Harwickshire while I—all alone—must stay in Curds! I can't part with you, Idrie. He's a dear boy, yes, but I hate that he'll take you away!"

Miss Brightley, climbing onto the covers, wrapped her arms.

"Hush, now. What nonsense you speak—"

"It's true! He'll ask you in marriage and because of all he's done, you'll say yes! It's what everyone expects! Father put the idea in your head and you'll just follow through like a marionette!"

"Lizzy—"

"Ever since your accident, you've never done what you wanted, always what we expected of you! You've devoted yourself to my happiness and Daddy's peace of mind because Mama bade you to. You got into all this for the very purpose of marrying him, didn't you? You don't answer because you know I'm right!"

Idrielle Brightley squeezed her tighter and swayed back and forth.

"I'm selfish, Idrie! I don't want you to leave me, but I know I can't keep you forever. And twice before I was willing to marry without considering how you felt about it, and here I am irritable and jealous! Isn't that something?"

She laughed in a hysterical sort of way.

"Jealous?!"

This confession shocked Miss Brightley so much, she'd forgotten her concern for the delusional sounding cackle her sister had emitted.

Lisabeth shook her brown curls.

"Never mind what I just said. I am foolish and sentimental, don't mind me. I promise I'll be better in the morning. Just sleep here with me tonight."

But even after the tears were shed, and the lanterns snuffed, and Lisabeth's gentle snores echoed from her side of the bed, Idrielle Brightley lay sleepless and pondering...

____________________________________________

The satisfaction I'm experiencing right is sublime!

So!

It appears Lisabeth Brighltey is 'jealous' of her sister. What an unexpected confession indeed! One can look at this many ways though...

Is it jealousy that her sister may marry perhaps the most desirable bachelor in Harwickshire? Or is it that she wished to secure a husband first, despite being the younger of the two? After all, she always had an admirer tailing her at one point or the other.

Wait!

Could it even be that our Lisabeth envied her sister's cheerfulness throughput the evening and she couldn't partake in that joy?

Hmm...,

So many questions!

Anyhoo! Leave a VOTE ⭐ or two at the door, if you please.