Part XIX: The Last Guest

Isolde could tell that Malcolm was being especially enigmatic about something.  He kept sweeping her off to meet new people, giving her the distinct feeling that he was avoiding someone in particular.  He had lost track of her when someone named Great Uncle Lennox yanked Malcolm out of her grasp to meet another guest.  Isolde was adrift in a sea of strangers.  She nodded and said “hello” to those who’s eye she caught and had become engaged in a conversation with a young lady about the invisible fairies that were living in the girl’s yard back at home when she was distracted by a man in military dress.  His right eye was covered by an eyepatch, but she could have sworn that the uncovered eye had winked at her. 

And then he did wink at her.  Isolde arched her eyebrows, frowning at him while the young girl, unaware that her audience was no longer paying attention to anything she said, jabbered on.  Isolde stared back, feeling very affronted as heat welled up in her bosom.  The nerve of that man!  He started sifting his way through the guests towards her.  Isolde took the girl by the hand, saying that they ought to find somewhere to sit down and headed in the opposite direction of the Cheeky Soldier.  They found a vacant chaise lounge and Isolde helped the girl scramble onto the seat before asking her to continue with her story.  The girl got started again when the Cheeky Soldier sat down on her other side.  Isolde pursed her lips.  He was certainly persistent.

“Lizzie, your mother wants to see you,” the Cheeky Soldier interrupted as he placed a hand on the small girl’s shoulder.  The girl immediately ceased her chatter.  She jumped off the seat as the man pointed her in the direction of her mother, waving goodbye to Isolde and promising to finish her story later on.  When the man returned his gaze to Isolde, she met his one golden eye with a stony façade.  He merely grinned at her.

“I don’t think we were introduced when you joined the festivities.  I’m Lieutenant Grant Haddock, Little Malcolm’s brother.”

Isolde resisted the urge to sniff indolently.

“Miss Marlowe,” she bit out, offering Malcolm’s brother a limp, disinterested hand to shake.  Lt. Haddock was still smirking as he took hold of two of her fingers and waggled them.

              “I’m sure the introductions weren’t necessary, though, seeing that Malcolm already told you about me.”

“Funny you should say that.  He never once mentioned you,” Isolde parlayed.  Lt. Haddock’s smirk spread into a waggish grin.

“Probably jealous.”

If they weren’t in such polite company, Isolde would have taken great joy in slapping this Lt. Haddock in the face.

              “Miss Marlowe, is it?” Lt. Haddock pursued. “You’re the young lady Malcolm has taken quite a fancy to, yes?”

“Correct.  Oh, look.  Here he comes now.”

Lt. Haddock jerked his head in the direction that Isolde was looking, his posture and face becoming very furtive and guilty.  Isolde snapped open her small fan and began to slowly create a small breeze against her face, hiding her smile.

              “Silly me.  That’s not him at all.  My mistake.”

She shifted her eyes away when Lt. Haddock looked back at her.

              “I can see why he likes you.  You’re a little minx, Miss Marlowe.”

“And you’re an inveterate flirt, Lieutenant Haddock,” Isolde shot back with an indicative jump of her eyebrows. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be going before your reputation begins seep onto and smear my own.”

              Isolde glided away without offering Lt. Haddock a second glance or a chance to respond.  Her heart was still pounding with irritation at his impudence when she felt a hand close around her upper arm.  Her hand impulsively twitched to slap whoever it was then froze.  Malcolm’s beetle brows rose as he caught sight of her face.

              “What happened?”

“Your brother,” Isolde growled.

              “Oh.”

The tone of Malcolm’s voice was enough to assure Isolde that he knew exactly which brother she was referring to.

              “I’d like to apologize for his behavior on his behalf—”

“No, no, no.  He can do that himself once he starts acting like an adult instead of a lovesick little boy.”

              “You’ve got a lot of waiting to do then,” Malcolm murmured.

“Well in the meantime you can introduce me to some more of your myriad of relatives,” Isolde replied as she laced a hand through the crook of his arm. “And leave your brother to grow up a bit.”

                                                                                      *

Dinner was announced following two more arrivals after Isolde.  Everyone was escorted in pairs to the dining hall, which had been bedecked with yards of ribbon, holly, and reefs.  There were enough candles lit lining the walls and on the table to cause the room to grow stuffy halfway during the first course.  Chatter rose to a loud murmur despite the appetizing dishes placed in front of each person, and Isolde found it hard to pick out separate conversations as they all wove together in the cacophony of voices.  A slightly drunk relative seated at the far end of the table kept guffawing loudly at intervals.  He sounded like a cannon blast each time and caused Isolde to wince when he was set off.

              Once dinner was over, the company moved to the ballroom, presumably to work off the meal they had just indulged in.  While the older members of the crowd of guests sat down to talk or play cards at the tables arranged on the sides of the room, the younger set scurried over to the middle of the floor, arranging themselves for a dance.  Mrs. Haddock had splurged on some musicians, who were idling away time in a corner of the room in a game of poker until they were needed.  Lt. Haddock kept cornering Isolde with every chance he got, doing his best to impress and smooth talk her before Malcolm could drive him away.  Isolde reassured Malcolm each time that his brother wasn’t that much of a bother, and really, he was trying much too hard to sway her.

              “He’s just being puerile,” Isolde said after Malcolm shooed away Lt. Haddock yet again. “You don’t need to keep scaring him off.  I don’t mind him: he reminds me of the little runny-nosed neighborhood boys I look after at home.”

Isolde had made sure to raise her voice so that Lt. Haddock heard that latter part.  He quit being so persistent soon after.  They gravitated around the open rooms, dipping in and out of conversations and finally ending up playing cribbage with Fiona, Roger, Monroe, Anna, and a cousin Finlay.  Isolde had noticed earlier on that the guests and relatives were a little reserved around her.  She knew why.  They’re all lycanthropes and I’m not.  It was fairly easy to distinguish once one knew the telltale sign.  She was the only one—besides the staff—with pale blue eyes, surrounded by a multitude of golden-eyed people.  A few of the guests that Malcolm had introduced her to had started when they realized she wasn’t “one of them,” staring at her eyes while awkwardly trying to converse.

And Malcolm was oddly reserved too.  He seemed nervous, but that could probably be explained away by her being in the company of his “afflicted” family.  He started to relax a bit when they joined in the dancing.  The wrinkle between his brows disappeared as they wove in and out between the other dancers, replaced by a smile that Isolde had missed.  As Isolde twirled around another dancer and clasped Malcolm’s hand, she murmured under her breath:

“It’s a good thing that there isn’t a full moon this Christmas.  This would have certainly been an interesting ball then.” 

Malcolm accidentally stepped on her foot.  The worry wrinkle was back and Isolde instantly regretted letting that quip slip past her lips.  When the song ended and the sweaty dancers applauded the musicians, Malcolm escorted Isolde to a chair and excused himself to get a drink.  Isolde twisted the maroon folds of her dress between her gloved fingers, biting the inside of her cheek.  Idiot!  When will you learn to keep your mouth shut, Isolde? 

                                                                                      *

Haddock hovered by the table of food, waiting for a cluster of giggling girls to finish pouring themselves some punch.  He didn’t think he would be so nervous tonight.  Of course he had noticed the reactions his relatives had given Isolde when he introduced her to them.  A few of the older ones had given him an appraising look, or worse, blankly stared at Isolde like she was some sort of oddity.  He wasn’t sure he could go through with this.  If he asked her to marry him, most of his family would do a lot more than rudely stare at his bride to be.  There would certainly be a lot of ostracizing, and snide remarks whispered behind fans and hands.  Haddock wiped his sweaty palms on his pants leg.

              He didn’t care about what they thought.  If they wanted to pretend that they were superior to “normal” humans, then fine by them.  He headed for the library to pick up his engagement present, feeling more nervous than when he had been roaming the moors to fight Sir Drexel.  He retrieved the package after dodging around the guests and held it low behind his back as he returned to the ballroom.  He noticed a few children eyeballing the present, hoping that Haddock would stop and hand it to one of them.  They looked extremely disappointed when he walked right past.  Isolde was where he had left her, sitting on a settee, fanning herself from her exertions during the dance.  He sat down next to her, and she looked up.  Before she could say anything, Haddock drew the package from behind his back and held it out to her.

              “It’s for you,” he said.  He quickly realized that this was obvious and directed his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat.  Isolde gingerly took the package with a soft, “Oh, thank you.”

              Fiona’s slightly nasally tones sounded from the pianoforte in the next room as she began to sing Christmas carols.  Haddock saw his mother clasp her hands together with delight and prompt Grant to bring her closer to her daughter so she could hear her sing more clearly.  The rest of the crowd drifted into the room, leaving Haddock and Isolde alone in the ballroom.  Isolde was twisting the twine on the package around her finger, still staring at the brightly-colored parcel in her lap.

              “Are you going to open it?” Haddock asked.

“Oh!  Oh, yes,” Isolde said, and began to undo the twine.  When she lifted the lid her eyebrows rose.  She breathed out a gasp as she lifted a golden-brown stole from the box.

              “Ohhhh, Malcolm, it’s lovely!  You didn’t have t—”

She squinted at the furry bundle in her hands.

              “Is…this…is this”—she dropped her voice—“Drexel?”

“Um, yes.”

An anxious flush welled up in Haddock’s chest.  He hadn’t through this through.  Naturally she would be revolted by this gift!  Isolde put a hand to her mouth.  Haddock thought she was horrified until he realized she was trying to hide a laugh.

              “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing.  But no one has ever gifted me with the skin of their enemy before.”

              “If you find it too disturbing, you don’t have to—”

“No, no.  It’s fine.  Really,” Isolde said, giving Haddock a reassuring look. “But, shouldn’t he have changed back…?”

              “You shot him when he was in his wolf form.  We…die in whichever form we’re in.  Williams was instructed to skin Drexel before burying the body.  Are you…sure it doesn’t make you uncomfortable?”

              Isolde lowered her chin, fixing Haddock with her “stop being silly” expression.  Haddock’s nervous heartbeat calmed to a normal rate.  He squirmed on the settee, sitting up straighter as he tried to mentally compose what he wanted to say.

              “I realize that I was terrible to you when we first met, and I would like to apologize for my atrocious behavior during the first few months of our acquaintance.  I thought you were a silly, flighty woman, and I realize how wrong I was to judge you as I did.  You are a very brave, intelligent, and…beautiful woman.  I know that our courtship began as a pretense to protect you from Sir Drexel, but I don’t want it to be a sham anymore.  To us or our families.  Isolde, will you—?”

The door to the castle was opened, and a footman announced the latest arrival: “Miss Florence Huntington.”

              Haddock’s head snapped in the direction of the ballroom entrance as a stab of shock went through his system.  A pale, raven-haired woman in a gold dress stopped short as she stepped into the room.  She stared back at the couple until a shout from the room where the rest of the guests were tore her attention away from them.  Grant came striding into the ballroom with a sincerely thrilled smile on his face, one that Haddock was surprised to find reciprocated by Miss Huntington.  The two spoke in hushed tones before Grant walked Miss Huntington over to Haddock and Isolde.  Haddock jumped to his feet immediately, Isolde slowly following suit as her eyes rapidly moved from him, to Florence, to Grant.

              “Hello Mr. Haddock,” Miss Huntington said nervously.  She looked slightly embarrassed as she clung onto Grant’s arm.  Grant looked like a satisfied peacock.  His next words came like a douse of cold water to Haddock.

              “Miss Marlowe, Malcolm, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Huntington: my fiancée.”

Haddock didn’t know how to respond to this piece of information.  Miss Huntington was doing her best to avoid his eyes beneath her dark lashes.

              “It’s good to see you again,” she said. “I hope you’re doing well?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Haddock replied as he watched Miss Huntington’s hands nervously flutter on Grant’s arm.  Isolde coughed softly from his side, causing Haddock to start.

              “This is Miss Marlowe,” he added, moving aside so Isolde could meet the newcomer.  The women made their introductions and Haddock took the opportunity to try to sort things out.  Miss Huntington had rebuffed Grant when he pursued her following the ending of her relationship with Haddock.  She had been very plain about what she thought of his wild brother, knocking Grant down a few pegs so that he had displayed an uncharacteristic meekness when she swept away.  Haddock couldn’t figure out why, or even how the two had become engaged since then.  A sense of bitterness at his brother going behind his back like this started to broil.  Grant interrupted the two women and Haddock’s growing angry thoughts:

              “Well I think it would be best if we didn’t keep Miss Huntington from the rest of the party.  Don’t you agree, Malcolm?”

“Yes,” Haddock bit out.  This earned him some inquisitive looks from Isolde and Miss Huntington before Grant whisked the latter away.  Haddock stood glaring at the place where Grant had stood, clenching his fists and doing his best to try to calm down.  Isolde touched his shoulder.

“Are you all right?  You were behaving very oddly.”

Haddock turned to look at her, pasting a smile onto his face.

              “I’m fine.  I think we should join the others.”

“Um, all right.”

              They came into the room containing everyone else just in time for Grant to announce Miss Huntington as his fiancée once again.  Haddock buckled down for a very rough rest of the evening.

                                                                                      *

Lt. Haddock and Miss Huntington became the central interest of the party shortly after the raven-haired woman’s arrival.  Malcolm’s mood experienced a sudden shift as well.  He was no longer awkward and nervous, instead showing signs of irritation whenever his brother was in his presence.  Isolde didn’t know what to do.  He had never told her about Miss Huntington, though she could guess who the woman was from Mrs. Haddock’s inference several months ago.  She didn’t want to pry, but she was extremely curious now about the history between the two of them and what had happened that had caused them to go their separate ways.  She wasn’t jealous.  Just curious.

              She was also hoping that Malcolm might return to that conversation they were having prior to Miss Huntington’s arrival, but it seemed as if that had been shoved from his mind entirely.  She tried to bury the disappointment.  It welled up and spilled out on her carriage ride back to the village as she clutched the pelt of Drexel and let silent, frustrated tears run down her face.