An English Rose

Masquerade

"So, your father has shown no sign of improvement?" Jane asked sympathetically.

Shaking her head again, Katherine sighed. "I keep hoping," she said. "I'm going with Dr. Brown next week to see what his diagnosis will be. He was very upset when he found out about Papa. I am also going to my papa's solicitor to see about the estate."

"That's right," Michaela exclaimed. "Your brother has been using your father's funds, hasn't he?"

Katherine's eyes glittered with fury. "Yes, he has," she responded, her tone cold. "And he has no right to any of it." She frowned suddenly. "How could society have found out about Papa? Pierre was adamant that he and Arden had kept it quiet."

Jane shrugged. "Well, just like everything else that goes on in this town, society finds a way to know all about it," she said. She glanced at the clock. "The masquerade should be getting started. We ought to make our appearance."

Grinning, Michaela bounced to the door. "Let's go!"

Smiling in response, Katherine followed her friends out.

~*~

The Hemway ballroom was filled with costumes of all sorts. Without bothering to wear a mask, Carlota was dressed as -of all things- a Prima Donna with her husband dressed as a Spanish matador. The laughter and excitement of the evening grew with every passing moment as more and more guests filled the house.

Mingling with the crowd, Katherine kept an eye out for her invited guest, sure she would know him if she saw him. She found Vicomte de Chagny and his wife quickly, for they too had chosen not to be masked. Dressed as Elise from Hannibal, Christine seemed on edge and pale. Raoul stayed by her side, dressed as a soldier.

Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade . . .
Masquerade!
Hide your face,
so the world will
never find you!

Masquerade!
Every face a different shade . . .
Masquerade!
Look around -
there's another
mask behind you!

Flash of mauve . . .
Splash of puce . . .
Fool and king . . .
Ghoul and goose . . .
Green and black . . .
Queen and priest . . .
Trace of rouge . . .
Face of beast . . .

Faces . . .
Take your turn, take a ride
on the merry-go-round . . .
in an inhuman race . . .

Eye of gold . . .
Thigh of blue . . .
True is false . . .
Who is who . . .?
Curl of lip . . .
Swirl of gown . . .
Ace of hearts . . .
Face of clown . . .

Faces . . .
Drink it in, drink it up,
till you've drowned
in the light . . .
in the sound . . .

But who can name the face . . .?

Laughing at all the sights, Katherine heard an astonished wave of excitement spread through the guests. Turning, she sucked in her breath. A man in standard evening wear with a black mask on his face stood in the doorway. Slowly, looking around, he started his way through the crowd, speaking to no one.

Whispers could be heard from all around the room as everyone tried to determine who the latecomer could be. A smile crossed Katherine's face as she waited for him. As the musicians struck up a waltz, the man reached the young lady. He bowed and held out his hand in invitation.

Slipping her gloved hand into his, Katherine allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. Their steps matched flawlessly as they waltzed around the room. Slowly, other couples joined them, though the puzzled looks continued to come their way.

"Why me, Erik?" Katherine finally asked.

"It would be rude to ask anyone else before I had danced with my hostess," Erik responded. He looked her over carefully. "Might I ask what, or who, you are supposed to be?"