Darkest of Times [Albert J Moriarty] - Moriarty the Patriot

Act 2, Scene 2 - The Ball

Opening his mouth to retort, Albert is interrupted by Mr Edwards raising a hand to the waiter to ask for another drink. Deciding against butting in again, Albert continues to sip his wine quietly.

"From the state that Father was in the other night, I take it the ministry has been busy?" Eleanor asks.

Mr Edwards huffs, removing a cigar from his pocket and lighting it. "A nightmare, Eleanor, it's no wonder you saw him like that. We're up to our ears in trade dealings between Governments. The industry is booming, don't get me wrong, but we are taking on more workloads than we can muster."

"Sounds like we're in trying times." Albert chimes in.

"Indeed, Albert," Mr Edwards puffs out smoke from his cigar. "Perhaps your father will call on your help again, Eleanor."

The corner of Albert's lip tugs up into a smile. "Assisting your father in his work?"

"Only very occasionally," Eleanor tells him.

"It may be hard to believe, but this young lady has a head for politics and legal affairs," Mr Edwards motions to Eleanor. "There's a true sense of justice in this young lady. Had she not wanted to pursue a career in the entertainment business, she would have made a brilliant lawyer."

They both look at her and she gulps down more of her wine, clearing her throat as she places her glass down.

"Well, it's from my father that I have an interest in politics and investments. It's only sensible to stay on top of it all, especially in this current economy."

"I couldn't agree more." Albert grins.

Mr Edwards places his empty glass down as the waiter returns to them. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, Mr Edwards, but would you like to sample another whiskey?"

Nodding, he stands up, smiling at the pair. "I'll leave you both to it. A pleasure to see you both."

As Mr Edwards takes his leave, returning to the bar, Albert turns to Eleanor, motioning to her wine glass. "Would you like another?"

"I should be fine for now, but thank you."

Eleanor stares past Albert and he raises his eyebrows. "Is something the matter?"

She glances away to smile at him. "Sorry, I was just admiring the ballroom itself and the string quartet. They're playing a favourite of mine."

"Enlighten me," Albert insists. "What is the tune?"

"Tchaikovsky, Valse Sentimentale," She tells him. "It's beautiful."

He stands up, a hand outstretched. "Would you care to dance?"

Gladly taking his hand, they walk over to the dancefloor, joining various couples as they too dance to the song. He places his other hand on her back, while hers takes place on his shoulder.

Her dress sways as he takes the lead, spinning her slightly and she laughs. "I didn't realise you were such a confident dancer, Albert. I feel ashamed of my own dancing skills."

"I should have made you aware of my talent earlier," He jokes. "No, it's merely experience from attending social events when at points I'd rather dance than make conversation with aristocrats who care about nothing more than wealth and status."

"I don't blame you." She shakes her head.

"So, your father works in the palace?" He asks.

Eleanor nods. "He's a Government lawyer, close to the Queen. He assists her in making statements for the public as well as passing laws or pushing for discussions in the House of Commons."

"I may have met him in passing at the palace," He wonders. "The acquaintance I spoke about seeing at the tea room the other day, he works for the Queen."

"Maybe you have," She agrees. "She only has a few advisors and confidants."

Albert nods. "That's true. And what about your mother?"

"My mother?"

He laughs. "Yes, your mother. How does she spend her days?"

Eleanor huffs. "Disappointed in her only child."

"That can't be true," Albert furrows his brows, his eyes scanning her face. "What has she to be disappointed in?"

"It's not particularly me, or at least that's what I try to tell myself. It's simply that I'm twenty-three years of age and without a suitor lined-up and apparently pursuing a career instead of pursuing a man is the wrong way to live my life." She tells him, her chest bubbling as she becomes more irate. "What's all the more annoying, is that all I seem to get is bad reviews after bad reviews. It might seem that she's right after all."

After a moment of silence, Eleanor looks up from his chest to meet his gaze, his eyes full of concern. Her eyes widen.

"Excuse me for that outburst. It's only that, I fear that if I don't perform these next shows to the best of my ability, the opportunity to go to Paris will be my last chance and—"

His grip on her back tightens slightly and he draws her closer to him. Her cheeks flush and she can't help but stare back down at his chest, lips pursed.

"Albert, I—"

"Why must you question yourself, Eleanor?"

Face heating up more by the second, Eleanor's eyes widen as he places a finger under her chin, their eyes meeting once again. She can smell his aftershave on his lapel and the fresh scent of his tousled hair.

Chest tightening and stomach flipping, his hand lowers back to her own, his other hand still holding her close. His expression softens to a smile and her tense shoulders relax into his grip as they continue to sway to the music.

"I— Um— I'm never usually this insecure. It seems ridiculous of me to let a few words under my skin —well, a whole front page review really— but nevertheless it's affected my demeanour." She takes in a deep breath, shakily exhaling.

"That's understandable," Albert assures her. "Words are hurtful. But the words aren't true, and you do realise that, even if you don't believe it."

Eleanor cracks a smile. "I think you've said something similar before."

Spinning around, she clutches onto his shoulder and squeezes his hand as he dips her and a squeak escapes her lips. A cheeky grin on his face, he holds her tight, speaking in a hushed tone with his face inches from hers.

"And I'll say it as many times as I have to, Eleanor."

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