Lady Carolyn drained the remaining liquid from the fragile glass in her hand, and set it down on one of the many side tables that lined the walls of the great hall. She didn't know exactly what Cook used to create the brightly coloured punch that they served on such occasions, but it was definitely starting to take effect. "Good," she thought to herself, "then tonight is definitely the night." She turned slowly around and surveyed the room from behind her mask.
Most of the recently installed electric lamps were now off, but the crystals from the chandeliers sparkled and shone with the light from the candles, which were now being lit by the remaining servants. Some guests were talking in small groups, many were dancing closely in pairs and a few were finishing the last of the punch; all wore the same simple, near identical black mask. In the distance, the grand clock gently chimed the hour. The all important hour. The hour that separated the regular guest from the more 'amenable' guest.
While the early part of the evening was much like any other ball in a household of this stature, the latter part had a reputation for careless flirtations and brief liaisons in dark corners. Nothing too sexual, that would be pushing the social boundaries too far, more a stolen seductive kiss in a dark corner, or maybe, between particularly adventurous strangers a quick glancing touch under the many layers of silk and satin. Of course, none of these noble people would ordinarily engage in such sordid activities, but somehow the magic of the mask, the anonymising master of the event, changed the rules. Hidden behind a mask, the secretly wanton can be whoever they wish to be, and be with whomever they choose.
Lady Carolyn quietly and carefully weaved her way through the pairs of people slowly dancing in the centre of the room and made her way to the large double doors which led out of the hall, towards the grand staircase. The hallway was even darker than the great hall, now only lit by the flames in the huge fireplace at the foot of the sweeping staircase. She noted the shadowy figures already lurking in the darkened corners, and imagined what minor acts of fantasy were being acted out between the newly-mets. She trod lightly over to the staircase and tip-toed up the stone steps, as if trying to be weightless, creating as little noise as possible. As she reached the first floor Lady Carolyn stole a look behind her, and, sure enough someone was striding through the darkness towards the foot of the staircase. She smiled, turned towards the landing again and crept towards her usual spot, a short way along the upper hallway. To the untrained eye it was just another section of panelled wall, but if you knew where to look you would find the handle that opened the door to the hidden servants' corridor. Lady Carolyn carefully laid her delicate embroidered handkerchief on the floor outside before stepping through the door and quietly closing it behind her, leaving just a slither of dim firelight down the edge of the frame.
She waited and listened. The darkness was so complete in the corridor that any light from outside was immediately engulfed in the blackness and she couldn't see anything. She listened hard but could only hear her own shallow breaths, a mixture of the fast tip-toeing, a very tight corset and her expectation of what was to come. Then she heard the steps, slow but not in any way trying to be covert or subtle; these steps were meant to be heard. They steadily got nearer until they must have been just outside the hidden door, whereupon the footsteps stopped. Something, or more rightly someone was now blocking that slither of light. Whoever it was crouched down, paused and then slowly stood upright again. She wanted to be found, but somehow she didn't dare breathe for fear of making a noise. Then door started to slowly creek open.
Lady Carloyn turned her back and quickly retreated a couple of steps down the corridor, where, if possible it seemed even darker. This was the sort of darkness you feel you have to almost push your way through. She heard the door close behind her and then silence. Still she held her breath. Whoever it was behind her was now treading very carefully, their footsteps making the tiniest noise on the bare floorboards as they approached. Carolyn could hear her own heart pumping loudly underneath her bodice as the quiet steps stopped just behind her. She stood, frozen to the spot, waiting for the first touch. Then it came.
Two strong hands grasped either side of her waist, and Lady Carolyn finally let out her breath in one go, resulting in a soft cry. The grip was firm, steady and motionless. They both simply stood there, as if this new connection was all they needed, Carolyn enjoying the warmth radiating from the two hands on her side. Finally the fingers started to move, rubbing her waist in small circles, massaging through the layers of her bodice. The hands moved slowly up Carolyn's waist, passed the side of her breasts until they were under her arms. She felt the upwards pressure inviting her to lift them and she duly did so, raising them straight above her head. The hands continued tracing their path up along her arms, and Carolyn felt fingers grip tight around her own hands. They pulled upwards stretching her arms and lifting her onto her toes - whoever it was that stood behind her was certainly strong. A warmth filled Carolyn and unknown to her assailant she smiled an almost imperceptible smile.
Being Lady Carolyn meant always behaving with propriety, always being well presented and always being the one in command, second only to her husband of course. Sometimes she just wished she could not be Lady Carolyn for a while, and
now
looked like one of those times. After all, Sir Robert had decided not to come to the ball, apparently he and Thomas had "business to attend to" this evening, so why shouldn't she have a little fun? Anyway, she wasn't Lady Carolyn tonight; tonight she was wearing a mask, and was now 'anyone'.
One hand held firm but the other released its grip on hers and she felt finger tips weave their way down her arm. They carried on down her side to her waist, then changed direction and moved around to her front. They paused for a moment before drawing a line straight up her belly, between her breasts and up towards her neck, whereupon they stopped. Carolyn felt the hand change shape as it cupped her neck lifting her head back a little; it wasn't gripping hard, not in any way painful but just enough to stop her moving. With her arms held above her head and this strong hand on her neck, Carolyn now felt very vulnerable. She'd quietly fumbled with many masked strangers at their gatherings, but something about this one was certainly different. He was more confident than most, and his touch was much stronger than any previous companions.
