White tablecloths had been stretched across long tables, where the food and glasses would be prepared. In the middle of this time was an ornate punch bowl, the golden sheen matching the autumnal flowers perfectly.
Theodore tripped over his own feet as he walked further into the room, scarcely keeping himself standing as he jerked his head back and forth to look at as much as he could.
His parents didn’t often hold balls. In fact, he couldn’t even remember ever seeing the ballroom decorated for one. He suspected his father had no inclination for such events, and he equally suspected that his mother didn’t want to have to play the loving wife in public in front of all her friends and acquaintances.
I know this room to be a darker place. It always has been.
A memory flitted across his mind. It was of the first time he had ever been in this room. He was running, sprinting through the corridors as he took cover from his mother. The pain in his back was obvious, though he didn’t dare reach around in case he touched the blood on his skin. He just wanted to hide as best as he could, pretend that this had never happened.
The ballroom had usually been locked tight, but that particular night, he found it unlocked. He’d pushed open the door, his short body barely able to reach the tall door handles abovehim. Running across the room as he was lit by the moonlight streaming through the windows, he had taken cover beneath a table.
He was fairly certain he had slept all night under the table. It wasn’t until the morning that Mrs. Lancaster had found him. With some difficulty, she had begged him to come out from hiding under the table. By then, the blood had dried.
The white moonlight and the darkness that had been in this room that night were a far cry from how it appeared now. It was warm and golden, the soft red and chestnut browns like a comforting embrace.
Theodore turned his head back and forth, searching for Margaret, when he eventually found her.
She was standing at the top of a ladder, where it precariously leaned against a marble pillar. She was wrapping a string of dried flowers all around the pillar, giving it a delicate but warm appearance.
“Maggie?” Theodore’s voice was much harsher than he had intended it to be.
He wasn’t sure what had made his tone so sharp. Was it the fact that Maggie would rather be here than sit with him at dinner? Or was it the memories in this room bleeding into him?
“Yes?” She jerked her head sharply to look at him.
She was as pale as a newborn white lamb. She cricked her neck, her eyelids fluttering shut for a second.
“Maggie?” Theodore said, jolting forward. “What is it?”
“Just a little dizzy.” She hung her head toward the pillar, her hands slipping from the dried flowers to the top rung, her body crumpling forward.
“Maggie!” Theodore didn’t think twice. He sprinted across the room toward her as she fell backwards, her weight tipping her away from the pillar.
How he managed not to be clobbered by the ladder as he caught her, he didn’t know. It landed at his feet as he somehow got his arms under her, stopping her head from hitting the floor and bending his knees to absorb the impact.
Her eyes were wide now, the fear palpable as her breathing quickened.
Theodore’s hold tightened on her as he fumbled, shifting her high in his arms with one arm under her back and the other under her legs.
“What do you think you were doing?” The impatience and frustration bubbled out of him.
“I was just… I got a little dizzy.”
“Probably because you haven’t eaten anything today! And you decide to clamber up a ladder?”
“Theo, I didn’t know I was going to get dizzy, did I?” Her tone was much quieter than his, but it didn’t help to soften his frustration.
Fear. That is what this is. She could have been hurt!
“Yates!” Theodore barked as he carried Margaret out of the room.
“Theo, I’m fine now,” she insisted, sitting taller in his arms. She now aided their position, her arms reaching up around their neck.
Theodore tried not to think of how close she was, how he could hear her breathing, how it would have been so easy to close the distance between them in a kiss.
“No, you’re not. You could have had a serious injury. Yates!” he barked once again, moving swiftly down the corridor toward his study.
Yates appeared at the other end of the corridor.
