Ring ring.
Sophia stirred from sleep. It was half past eleven the next night. She rolled over with a groan and seized her phone. The name on the screen blazed out in the dark.
She sat bolt upright. She paused for a second before accepting the call. She didn’t speak.
“Hello?”
She wondered where he was speaking from. Yesterday, or the birth of the universe, or the end.
“Sophia?”
He sounded nervous. She had a sudden apprehension that something terrible had happened, and could keep her silence no longer.
“Hey. I’m here.”
“Good. Good.”
They paused. The night outside Sophia’s window was starlit and silent.
“Will you come through?” he asked. “Please.”
She thought for a moment. “Okay. Give me a minute.”
She ended the call, climbed out from beneath the duvet and sat on the edge of her bed. Her heartbeat had picked up, but it wasn’t that fast. She wondered if she was dreaming. Well, it seemed appropriate.
She put on her old, long nightie and a pair of flat shoes, and hovered by her bedroom door. She found herself thinking about where, precisely, his house was; was it somewhere real, on a map, but hidden, or was it in some nether space?
It’s on the other side of the door, said a voice in her head. She opened it and went through.
The great, grand hall did not look the same. Instead of blazing light and gold, her eyes were met by deep blue twilight. Long shadows threaded across the floor, interspersed with the moonlight of a painting; purest silver, as if you only had to step in it to be somehow transformed. She looked for Alexander where he usually sat, by the piano, but he was not there.
Then she saw him, staring out of the window. His face was lit by the full flush of the moonlight. He wore a long jacket and waistcoat, but she couldn’t discern the colour of decoration. She walked towards him, careful to make sure he heard her footsteps, but he didn’t turn to her.
She joined him at the window. A moment later, she felt his hand take hers.
“There’s nothing out there,” he said quietly. “Have you ever noticed that?”
She looked out, and it was true: a lawn stretched only a little distance, before fading into the dark.
“I’d not thought about it,” she replied.
“Once I had a garden. I grew tired of it and didn’t venture out there for some years. When I remembered it, and sought it, it had gone. This place had wiped it clean. I tried to recall it, but it wasn’t the same. And I knew then that this place has its limitations after all.” He turned to her. “I’m sorry, you don’t want to listen to my prattle.”
“It’s not prattle. It’s fine.”
Sophia held his hand more tightly. She began to laugh.
“What is it?” he said.
“Nothing. Just, ‘prattle’. The word. It’s very you.” She looked up at him. “I’ve missed you.”
He smiled, but it didn’t last long.
“I have an apology to make,” he said. “I’ve kept you waiting far too long.”
“That’s okay. You had me worried, I admit. Angry, too. But we’re here now.” She sighed.
“It’s not just that.” Alexander’s face turned guilty. “Do you remember how I said I was keeping time with you? Ensuring we spent the same number of days apart?”
Sophia bit her lip. “It’s been about two weeks since Monaco for me.”
“It’s...well, it’s been four months since I’ve seen you. I’m sorry.”
Sophia breathed out, shaking a little. “You could have said a year. That’s okay.”
“No it’s not. You don’t have to be polite. I went back to my worst instincts. I ran away.”
They stared out of the window for a little longer.
“I couldn’t have said a year,” he said. “I’d have missed you far too much for that. I missed you every day of those months.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. They carried on staring.
“What are we going to do tonight, then?” said Sophia.
Alexander took his time. “If you wish it, I will explain to you everything.”
“If I wish it?”
“Please don’t think I’m still trying to hide it, that I’m longing for you to say you don’t want to know. But we must speak first. It will...I feel that things will change, once you know. We need to talk about where we stand.”
Sophia could feel his hand shivering in her own.
“It’s not that I’m afraid,” he said vehemently. “I’m not scared of this. It’s like when you move on to something new. You could be completely certain that the future will be wonderful, that this is right and good. But the old world will be utterly consumed. No turning back.”
“You know,” she said, “You could sound a little less ominous.”
She wondered if she had overstepped the mark, but then Alexander laughed a little. She joined in.
“Shall we go?” said Alexander.
“Where? I’m not dressed for it.”
“Don’t worry. They won’t see us. I don’t want to dress up, not this time.”
She was nervous for a moment, stood in her nightwear, but as Alexander led her towards the doors, she felt more at ease.
“Besides,” he said, “You look quite good as you are.”
Sophia tried to smile, but couldn’t. They passed through the doors.
*
She didn’t know what she was expecting. More mystical twilight, perhaps, or something faintly sinister.
Instead, they passed into a brightly lit, fabulously decorated corridor of some stately mansion. The furniture was made of deep brown woods and richly gilded, and the thick carpets, glistening chandeliers, and immaculate architectural flourishes on the walls and ceiling were of a similar calibre. Added to this were great ribbons of silk hanging between the windows, fresh, sweet-smelling flowers in every vase, and the sound of a string quartet in some nearby chamber. A Union Jack hung in a great display alongside other flags that Sophia did not recognise – a black eagle on white, and a black and yellow stripe.
“Where are we?” asked Sophia.
“The most famous ball in history.”
“Is this where...”
Sophia squeaked and leapt back: two red-jacketed officers were approaching, and her nightie suddenly seemed outrageous.
“Don’t worry,” said Alexander. “We’re invisible to them. Hello there!”
The two gentlemen strolled by, oblivious to the greeting and to the presence of a scandalously-clad young lady beside them. Sophia was astonished, but somehow not in the least bit surprised.
“Another trick of mine,” said Alexander. “Perhaps I have too many. Come.”
He led her towards the music. As they passed liveried attendants and well-heeled guests, none of them paying her any heed, Sophia relaxed a little. The sense of a waking dream, though, still lingered, and she wondered, and feared, what Alexander’s connection to this place was.
The ballroom distracted her entirely.
“Oh,” she gasped as he led her in, “It’s beautiful.”
Thousands upon thousands of candles in mirrored girandoles lit the gorgeous light-blue chamber. The string quartet played tripping minuets at the far end, backed by an enormous floral display the width of the room. Tables and chairs were set out in rows at the sides, some of them occupied by resting guests, but it was the dancers who caught Sophia’s eye. Military officers in red jackets and white breeches, their uniforms bedecked with sashes and stars, danced in ordered rows with ladies in white gowns, whose rosy cheeks and tumbling curls looked even more beautiful by the flattering candlelight. There were at least a hundred dancers, and many others in the room and in the corridor behind. To Sophia it was a scene from Jane Austen brought gorgeously to life.
“I would ask you to dance, were this one of our normal evenings,” said Alexander. “Perhaps not tonight. Shall we sit?”
They did so, at a table in the corner of the room. Sophia wrapped her nightie closer around her. She would have loved to have come here on another day, at another time – on her timeline, at least – rather than now. The scene before her was beautiful, but like a painting, in that she could only watch, and never touch as she had done before. Alexander seemed to feel likewise. Sophia half-expected him to go and fetch drinks, but he made no move.
She felt that if she did not speak in the next five seconds, neither of them ever would again.
“Is this where you’re from?” she asked, her voice trembling a little.
“No,” he replied sombrely. “This isn’t my time. And yes, there is such a thing as ‘my time’. I have not always travelled. I imagine you’ve always known that.” He laughed. “Not all my companions have. Thaïs was convinced that I was Apollo.”
“I can believe you’re not a Greek god. No offence.”
“I take none.”
Sophia tried to follow her thoughts. “Why are we here, then?”
Alexander settled into his chair, wriggling a little. Sophia watched his lips shape a few words before sound emerged.
“There are certain moments – I’m sure you’ve had them yourself – that one rehearses beforehand in one’s head.” He passed a hand over his brow. “Goodness, I’m sounding trite already.”
“No you’re not.”
“These words, you see, these words. I’ve thought about them before. Finally saying them is...odd.”
Half of Sophia wanted to reach out and hold him, but the other half won out.
“This place has always seemed the right place to start,” continued Alexander. “A prelude, if you like. It just, fits.”
“I still don’t know where this is.”
“The evening of the fifteenth of June, 1815. We’re in Brussels, and this is the Duchess of Richmond’s Ball. How’s your history?”
Sophia squirmed. “Not great. Sorry. Ask me a chemistry question and I’ll get it.”
“I’m sure.”
“I’m guessing this place is significant, then?”
“Indeed. You’ll see why soon enough. I’m not certain when the events that history remembers will begin. It may be a few minutes, or a few hours.”
The dancers began a more lively cotillion, performing in couples and then exchanging partners. Sophia watched them swirling around, officers and ladies together, and wondered what was coming. She wondered why she didn’t feel embarrassed about her lack of historical knowledge, until she realised that her nervousness had overridden every other feeling. She only then noticed that she was trembling, and not just from cold.
“What do we do in the meantime?” she asked.
“Well, as they say in your age,” said Alexander, “I think we should talk about ‘us’.”
*
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There's a lot to come out in the next two. Can Alexander really give up all his secrets?
The painting is The Duchess of Richmond's Ball by Robert Alexander Hillingford, an English artist. It was painted in the 1870s, by which time the ball had long since taken on a kind of legendary status. For those of you who haven't heard of it, I won't explain here why it has become famous - the next chapter will explain things. Even if you haven't heard of it, the date and location may well give you a few clues.