Part XX: Afterparty

It was half-past midnight.  All the guests had either left the castle or gone up to their rooms to bed.  A few members of the immediate Haddock family still lingered in the sea-green sitting room to discuss the events of the party—namely Grant’s betrothal to Florence Huntington.  The fire was low in the grate, casting everyone in deep shadows and providing little warmth.  Fiona kept squealing with delight, volunteering her children to participate in the upcoming wedding and expressing her excitement for the event.  Mrs. Haddock looked like she would burst with joy as she held onto Grant’s hand.  Haddock sat on the farthest piece of furniture from the family, aggressively rubbing the wood armpiece of the chair with his thumb.  His other hand rested under his chin as he glared at Grant. 

He refused to join in on the conversation.  The impression that felt like he had been kicked in the gut had gone away to be replaced by a throbbing vexation in his chest.  He couldn’t blame Florence for this.  He had been the one who had acted like an unfeeling idiot when they were courting, and she was perfectly in the right to leave him.  However, Grant could have at least told him about his intentions to court her—

“Malcolm!  What are you doing over there in the shadows?” Fiona asked teasingly.  Haddock realized that the family was now looking at him. 

“He’s pretending to be a vampire,” Ainslay drawled.  His mother cocked her head at him.

“Come over here and join us.”

              “Or are you going to practice your brooding face instead?” Grant queried.

“I’d prefer not to,” Haddock said stiffly.  Mrs. Haddock, Fiona, and Monroe frowned.

              “Malcolm,” Grant said, “What’s the matter with you?”

Haddock snorted.

“What’s the matter with me?  You’re the one who decided to court my previous lover without even asking me how I felt about it.  But I’m sure that didn’t occur to you because we all know how very understanding you are toward other people.”

The happy atmosphere of the room evaporated, leaving in its wake a frigid tension.  Haddock was leaning forward in his seat, hands gripping the armrests so hard that his knuckles stood out white.  Fiona and Monroe were watching Grant closely to see how he would react, while Ainslay sat back in her chair with an entertained look in her heavy-lidded eyes.  Mrs. Haddock was beyond words.  She merely goggled at Haddock with her mouth slightly ajar.  Grant wore a somewhat confused smile.

“As I recall, you and Miss Huntington’s parting was never intended to be mended.  Unless of course you were only stringing along that Miss Marlowe in order to cause jealousies to arise in Miss Huntington’s bosom and win her back.”

Haddock was on his feet in an instant.

“How dare you insinuate—"

              “I was only putting together what I saw, Mal.”

Grant languidly rose from the couch he shared with his mother and sisters and waltzed across the rug to Haddock.

              “Am I correct or not in assuming so?  You certainly acted like it once Miss Huntington joined the party.  Don’t think I didn’t notice you following us around, though I’m sure Miss Marlowe noticed you completely abandon her to yearn after Miss Hunt—"

Haddock socked Grant right on the jaw.  The women gasped, and Monroe rocketed out of his chair to wedge himself in between his two brothers lest they fall to brawling.  Haddock was breathing heavily.  Grant wiped at the bloody cut that had formed on the side of his mouth, looking more amused than angry.

              “Many happy returns,” Haddock muttered, then stalked out of the room.  I need to walk this off.  Yes.  A nice brisk walk outside would calm down the hot blood and clear his head.  He breezed past servants still cleaning up after the festivities, right out to the back of the castle.  Snow covered the landscape and sparkled under the feeble glow of the crescent moon.  The pond that he and Isolde had walked around early that fall was frozen over.  He marched around it, fast at first, not really thinking of anything, then slower as the anger stopped clouding his mind.

              Grant had been right.  Miss Huntington joining the party had had a significant effect on him.  He never expected to see her again, but once he did all the old memories came rushing back like a thundering wave.  There hadn’t been a moment for them to be left alone together to talk, and Haddock was sure that the evening might have gone differently if they could have cleared the air of their past grievances.  He couldn’t help but feel slighted by the fact that she had chosen his brother—and his ne’er-do-well one at that—over him.  Then again, Grant exhibited a certain sense of civility when she was in his presence, restraining from acting like a dandy and instead showing a set of manners he only used when Mrs. Haddock was present.  Haddock grudgingly came to the conclusion that Miss Huntington might actually be good for his brother.  The past was gone and there was no changing what had happened between them.  He would just have to learn to live with his mistakes and try his best not to repeat them once more. 

              Haddock stopped in his tracks of the trail he had worn away in the snow.  He could just make out the silvery figures of the fish beneath the hard surface of the pond, bobbing among the aquatic plant life and shadows. 

Isolde had left the party without even saying goodbye.  Come to think of it, he had lost track of her after Florence’s entrance—

              “Damn!”

He had let his foolishness get the better of him again.  Haddock rubbed his cold face with his equally cold hands.  He would go over to her house the next day and apologize.  Apologize profusely.  His hands froze covering his eyes.

              The proposal.

He hadn’t finished his proposal to her.  He ground his knuckles into his lids with a small growl.  This evening had not gone how he planned at all.