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“With all my heart,” the General began, his tone carrying a mix of determination and sorrow. After a brief pause to gather his thoughts, he delved into a tale that left us all captivated.
“My daughter was eagerly anticipating the visit you kindly arranged for her with your delightful daughter,” he nodded to me with a bittersweet smile. “But just before that, we received an invitation from my old friend Count Karlfeldt, whose castle lies about six leagues beyond Rosewood. He invited us to join the festivities in honor of the Grand Duke Charles.”
“A grand affair, I’ve heard,” my father remarked.
“Absolutely regal! The night in question was devoted to a splendid masquerade,” the General continued, painting a vivid picture. “The grounds were aglow with colored lamps, fireworks lit up the sky in a spectacle rivaling Paris, and the music—ah, the music! It transported me back to the romance of my youth.”
“After the fireworks, the ball commenced in the magnificent rooms. It was a dazzling sight, filled with aristocrats and elegance. My daughter, radiant as ever, caught the eye of a masked young lady who seemed particularly interested in her. I had spotted this same lady earlier, watching my daughter with keen interest,” he recounted, his expression reflecting a mix of puzzlement and concern.
“If only she hadn’t worn a mask, I could have been certain of her intentions,” the General lamented. “But I’m now convinced she was indeed watching my dear child.”
“We were in one of the elegant salons. My daughter, having danced, was taking a moment’s respite in a nearby chair, and I stood close by. The two ladies I mentioned earlier had joined us—the younger sitting beside my daughter, while her companion engaged me in conversation. She spoke in a familiar tone, mentioning encounters we’d had at Court and in esteemed circles. Her references to past incidents, long forgotten, sparked my curiosity, bringing forgotten memories to life.
“As she skillfully evaded my attempts to unveil her identity, I grew increasingly intrigued. Her knowledge of my life’s moments was uncanny, and she seemed to relish teasing my curiosity. Meanwhile, the young lady, referred to as Maribelle by her mother, effortlessly conversed with my daughter. She mentioned her mother’s acquaintance with me, praised my daughter’s attire and beauty, and entertained her with witty observations about the ball’s attendees.
“Gradually, they became fast friends, and Maribelle lowered her mask, revealing a strikingly beautiful face unknown to us. Yet, her charm was undeniable, captivating both my daughter and me. My daughter, in particular, seemed enchanted, and the stranger appeared equally taken with her.
“Seizing the mask’s anonymity, I playfully pressed the elder lady, ‘You’ve completely mystified me. Isn’t that enough? Will you now reveal yourself and grant me the courtesy of removing your mask?’”
“Surely, you can’t be that unreasonable,” I countered, feigning offense. “Ask a lady to give up her advantage? Besides, how do you know you’d recognize me? Time brings changes.”
“As philosophers say,” she remarked coyly, “and who’s to say seeing my face would be of any help?”
“I’d take my chances,” I replied with a smile. “You can’t hide the truth forever; your figure gives you away.”
“Years have passed since we last met, or rather, since you last saw me,” she mused. “Maribelle there is my daughter; that alone tells you I’m not as young as you remember. Comparisons to the past may not be to my liking.”
“My plea is to your compassion, to reveal yourself,” I urged.
“And mine is to yours, to let it remain a mystery,” she countered.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“At the very least, can you tell me if you’re French or German? You speak both languages so fluently,” I pressed.
“I don’t think I’ll divulge that,” she teased. “You’re plotting a surprise, and I wouldn’t want to ruin your fun.”
“Nevertheless, you can’t deny that since you’ve allowed me to converse with you, I should know how to address you. Shall I say Madame la Comtesse?” I inquired.
She chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “As to that,” she began, but was interrupted by a gentleman dressed elegantly in black. His complexion, however, was unnaturally pale, almost like death.
“May I have a moment of Madame la Comtesse’s time?” he asked, bowing deeply.
She signaled for silence and turned to me, “Keep my seat, General; I’ll be back shortly.”
As they conversed earnestly, I pondered the mystery of her identity. Just as I was about to join my daughter and Maribelle, the lady returned with the pale gentleman.
“I’ll inform Madame la Comtesse when her carriage is ready,” he announced before bowing and departing.
“We’ll miss Madame la Comtesse, but I hope it’s just for a short while,” I remarked, offering a polite bow.
“It might be only that, or it might stretch to a few weeks. Unfortunately, his interruption has complicated matters. Do you recognize me now?” she inquired.
I shook my head, indicating that her identity remained a mystery.
“You will, in time,” she assured me, “but not yet. We’re closer friends than you may realize. I cannot reveal myself at this moment. In three weeks, I’ll be passing your splendid schloss, which I’ve been inquiring about. I’ll pay you a brief visit and renew a friendship filled with fond memories. But right now, urgent news compels me to travel nearly a hundred miles via a circuitous route. I must move swiftly on a mission of utmost importance—a mission I’ll explain in detail when we meet, without any need for secrecy.”
She proceeded to make her request, doing so in a manner that almost made it seem like a favor she was granting rather than seeking.
“This is a peculiar request,” I admitted, considering her proposal. “But your candidness and reliance on my chivalry are persuasive. At the same time, my daughter is eager for your friend Maribelle to visit. If her mother consents, she’d be delighted.”
Under normal circumstances, I might have delayed such an invitation until we knew more about them. However, the combined allure of the elegant young lady Maribelle and the compelling argument from her mother swayed me too easily.
The Countess beckoned Maribelle over and explained the sudden summons and the arrangement for her stay under my care, emphasizing my long-standing friendship with the family.
After making appropriate assurances and pleasantries, I found myself in a position I hadn’t entirely anticipated or embraced.
The gentleman in black returned and escorted the Countess from the room with great ceremony, leaving an air of significance lingering in the wake of her departure.
Her final words emphasized the need for secrecy and trust until her return, revealing a level of importance beyond what her title suggested.
Maribelle expressed a desire to bid farewell to her mother from a window overlooking the hall door, eager to see the last of her and offer a parting gesture of affection.
We agreed and joined her at the window. We watched as a splendid old-fashioned carriage pulled up, attended by a retinue of couriers and footmen. The pale gentleman in black draped a thick velvet cloak around her shoulders and hooded her head. She exchanged nods and a brief touch of hands with him as the carriage began to roll away.
“She’s gone,” Maribelle sighed.
“She’s gone,” I echoed, suddenly reflecting on the hasty decision I’d made. “She didn’t look up,” Maribelle lamented.
“She might have taken off her mask and preferred not to reveal her face,” I speculated, trying to ease the disappointment.
Maribelle’s beauty softened my resolve. Regretting my momentary hesitation in hospitality, I resolved to make amends for any perceived rudeness.
Mask back in place, Maribelle and my ward convinced me to return to the festivities. As we strolled on the terrace under the castle’s glow, Maribelle regaled us with tales and witty observations about the guests, injecting life into our evening.
The ball extended into the early hours, orchestrated by the Grand Duke’s whims. We navigated the crowded halls until my ward realized Maribelle was missing. Our search proved futile, and I began to grasp the folly of accepting responsibility for someone whose identity remained a mystery.
Dawn broke before we gave up our search. It wasn’t until the following afternoon that news of Maribelle’s whereabouts reached us.
A servant informed us of a distressed young lady seeking me and my ward, entrusted to her care by her mother. Though slightly inaccurate, it was evident our lost charge had reappeared. If only we hadn’t found her!
Maribelle explained her prolonged absence with a story of getting lost and finally resting in the housekeeper’s room, exhausted from the ball.
That day, Maribelle returned with us, and despite the initial confusion and worry, I couldn’t have been happier to have such a delightful companion for my dear girl.