The Masked Concerto

Once Upon a Time

7 pm Friday 8th March 1861- West London

The familiar scrape of silverware echoed around the stiff dining room table. Mr Cavendish had banned all talking at the dinner table so I was restricted to glances up at Elizabeth, Maria and Jeremy. Jeremy picked at his food begrudgingly before returning to stare at the tablecloth, his small brown eyes fixated on the boiled potatoes.

I lay my hands in my lap and kept my face free from any expression which Mrs Cavendish might reprimand. Mrs Cavendish sat at the other end of the long table, next to Mr Cavendish. Mrs Cavendishish's beady green eyes and fire-red hair which was quaffed into an elaborate and tight style made her face almost hawkish.

"Miss Taylor, dear" I heard her simper. On the surface, it could be mistaken as coquettish but she had been my mistress long enough I could see the cold gleam in her eyes.

"Yes, Mrs Cavendish?" I responded keeping my voice obedient.

"I heard you received an invitation to the Black Prince's Ball from your assistant friend?" she said, resting a perfectly gloved hand on her powdered cheek, grinning at me.

"Yes, Mistress I did receive an invitation" I responded, trying to keep my contempt restrained. I had hidden that invitation, I might have one night to myself but apparently not.

"It is very interesting to me that you, a governess, would receive such an invitation and we do not. As you are a part of our employment" I almost tasted her snigger "I expect that you will be taking Elizabeth and Maria with you? It would be an excellent opportunity for them to find potential suitors". I ground my teeth into my gums and plastered on a mask of practised ignorance.

"O please Mother could we go? I would love to go and dance to the instruments, they are so magical Mother could we please go?" Maria pipped up from her dinner, her doe brown eyes filled with excitement and Mrs Cavendish turned to me with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course, I was always planning on inviting Miss Cavendish and Miss Maria Cavendish to come along with me" I reasoned quickly.

"No talking at the dinner table!" Mr Cavendish shouted from behind his newspaper and I flinched, picking at the ends of my nails to avoid Mrs Cavendish's gloating smile.

Instead of joining the family in the living room, I continued my set routine and I walked up the long winding stairs to the top floor. The room I had been given was small, cold and cramped, the quilt felt thin beneath my fingers. This had been the room of Elizabeth's, Maria's and Jermeny's nursemaids, poorly decorated with the scarps of my gilded life before becoming their governess.

I sat on the small rocking chair in the corner of the dingy room and pulled out the invitation from the pocket of my fraying day dress. The paper was thick and white, I had been so excited when the footman had secretly pressed it into my hands the month before at breakfast. I ran my fingers over the intricate dark red seal, feeling out the crevices and drinking in that forgotten luxury. I wanted to slip out and go to the ball alone, maybe it was better to go with the girls, they were better company than their mother.

Humming to myself I knelt down and carefully pulled up a loose floorboard and I snuck the invitation into an old shoe box. I had rescued the battered thing from my home before it was sold. I ran my eyes over the small trinkets I had saved, a rusting belt buckle, one of my mother's silver bangles, a lock of my sister's hair; a thousand tiny treasured memories locked away in a foreign dusty attic. There was no point in complaining, I was lucky not to be starving on the streets. I squared myself and pushed off the floor and walked to the wardrobe which snagged into the wall.

I opened the door and gently lifted the ball gown I was going to wear. It was one of the few mementoes I had of my mother making it old-fashioned, poorly fitting and dusty. Betsy, one of the numerous servants, had helped me tug it on around a week ago and we spent a stolen hour trying to make it fit. Sighing I embraced the joy of the memory, threaded my needle and set to work on my mother's gown.