The Lady and The Lovers

“This is the best day of my life.” 

Or at least I thought that’s what Allison said, but it was difficult to understand her around the mouthful of loosely-themed “Rake Funnel Cake” that she had purchased mere seconds after stepping foot through the gates of the fairground. 

“Your bar might be a little too low,” I replied, hand shielding my eyes from the late afternoon sun as I studied the dusty scene in front of me. 

The annual Lords and Ladies Regency Fair was trapped somewhere between a convention, a renaissance festival, and a rodeo, and was succeeding at none of them. From where we stood near the entrance, I could see a fencing tournament bracketed by three rows of wooden bleachers, a series of theme-approximate carnival games (including but not limited to a beanbag toss into a cardboard woman’s corset-clad cleavage), and a man that you could pay to bestow you with a British title based on the tarot cards he was doing fancy tricks with. 

“You’re no fun.” My best friend pushed me lightly, her face glowing with excitement and a burgeoning sunburn courtesy of the summer heat. 

“You just got powdered sugar on my dress.” 

Allison ignored me. “The ball isn’t for another hour, so we better make the rounds while we still have time.”

Before I could react to the mention of a ball, she was grabbing my wrist and dragging me through the sparse crowds toward some decidedly modern-looking booths, and I had to resist the urge to sigh out loud when we stopped in front of the tarot-wielding man in an all-velvet outfit that looked neither comfortable nor era-appropriate. 

“Good evening, fine ladies of the court!” The declaration was loud and he sounded a little drunk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Allison beamed at him as his top hat slid back and revealed a bit more of his receding hairline, but it wasn’t until she curtsied that I really started contemplating how hot it would have to be before I melted into the gravel. “We would like to request our titles, good sir.” She had suddenly adopted an accent that was closer to Australian than British. 

“Ah, but of course!” The man stood up, swaying a little and revealing what was either a wine or excrement stain on the front of his pants. “For the ladies, it will be only five shillings. Dollars,” he clarified, like we were idiots. 

Before I could tell her that her cash would be better spent on another plate of Rake Funnel Cake or a Promenade Lemonade, she was digging into her velvet wrist purse and retrieving a ten-dollar bill. “And a fortune for the both of us, please!” 

I started to protest but threw my hands up in defeat when she cut me off with a glare, and we sat down across the table from the man who was an insult to tarot users and historians everywhere. As he started shuffling like he was holding face cards, I leaned over to whisper in Allison’s ear. “Did you say something about a ball?”

She cut me a nervous but only vaguely repentant glance. “What did you think the dress was for?” 

The dress she was referring to was the silk ball gown that she had practically wrestled me into that very morning, complete with an empire waist and some era-inaccurate stitching. It was, I could admit, a very pretty shade of pink, and more comfortable than I would have anticipated. But that didn’t mean I was happy about it. 

The velvet-clad fraudster across from us attempted a bridge shuffle, which only seemed to delight Allison even more, before he finally laid the cards out. He flipped a couple over at random and placed one in front of each of us. The card facing Allison was of a figure holding aloft a stick with several unidentifiable instruments laid out on a table in front of him. 

“Ah, The Magician,” our fortune teller said. 

“The Magician?” Allison leaned in closer. “What does that mean?”

“It means your fair experience will be full of magic!” Even my ever-optimistic best friend looked a little disappointed at this answer until he continued, “It also represents your untapped gifts and talents. You have limitless potential to achieve your dreams and goals if you set your mind to it.” His voice had gone a little softer, a little more serious, and Allison was nodding and looking sideways at me with enamored eyes. 

“I’m up for that promotion at work, maybe this means that I should talk to my boss about it again!” She sounded so delighted that I could only nod encouragingly as the man turned to the card in front of me. It was a depiction of two figures, their hands entwined as they stood beneath a flowering tree. 

“Ah, The Lovers! My favorite card.” 

“That sounds promising,” Allison said, squeezing my hand. 

The man’s velvet hat slid back down his forehead as he leaned over to place a finger on the card, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them again, it was the most serious he had looked since we sat down, and in spite of myself, a little shiver ran down my spine. 

“You will meet your one true love tonight.” He said it like a statement of simple truth, and the sentence combined with his grave delivery was in such contrast to that feeling I’d had only moments before that I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out a nervous laugh. 

“Excuse me?” 

“The love of your life will be at the ball.” He paused before checking his watch. “It starts in 45 minutes, by the way.”

“Okay, Allison, time to go.” I started to stand before Allison yanked my hand so hard that I fell back into my chair. 

“Sit down! We don’t even have our names yet.” 

“Okay, then.” If he wanted to be ridiculous, two could play at that game. “What does he look like?”

“Who?” the man asked.

“The love of my life. I think it would be easier to spot him if I had some basic details.”

“Now, young lady,” he started, despite looking maybe ten years older than me, “that’s not how the cards work.” 

“I don’t think you know how the cards work,” I grumbled.

“I want to know my regency name!” Allison cut in, too excited to allow me to ruin it. 

“Yes, of course!” The man shot me one more strange glance before hunching over in his seat until his head was level with the table and his face was hidden. “Now that I know your futures, I will present you with names of the past.” His voice was a little muffled by the tablecloth, and I leaned over until I could see his phone in his lap. 

“Why is your web browser open to a ‘Find Your Bridgerton Name’ Buzzfeed quiz?”

He shot back upright, looking incensed. “Excuse you, Lady Sophia Waterton of Yorkshire. I know not to what you are referring.”

“Oh, Sophia! That’s a pretty name.” Allison said. 

“And you, Lady Elizabeth Laketon of Oxfordshire.” He grabbed Allison’s hand and kissed it. “You have a most wonderful time at the ball.” 

“Waterton and Laketon? Really?” 

And then suddenly we were out of our seats as he shooed us away good-naturedly. “Off you go!”

Allison was a few steps away and I was turning to follow when the man called after me. I couldn’t even get a word out before he said, “Brown hair, five eleven and a half, and brown eyes, but the left one has a slight ring of green around the pupil.” His face was very serious for a moment before it lit up with a grin and I did nothing to hide my eye roll. “Good luck!” 

***

Thirty minutes later, I was finishing up my pulled pork sandwich from the barbecue food truck (‘Raked Over the Coals’ was a clever name, I could admit it) as we approached the converted bull riding arena where the “ball” was being held. The floor was packed with dirt, but they had at least taken the time to string up fairy lights that, in the dusk lighting, could almost be misconstrued as romantic. 

Allison was almost immediately snatched up by a man wearing a vest, top hat, and cowboy boots, so I took my time throwing my food away and attempting to remove a barbecue sauce stain from my skirt. 

“Pardon me, milady?” The cheeky tone in which it was said had me looking up with a smile, but I froze when I saw who stood in front of me, hand outstretched. It took me a moment to place what exactly had raised my internal alarm, but the velvet man’s stupid words had been cemented into my brain. Brown hair, five eleven and a half, and brown eyes, but the left one has a slight ring of green around the pupil. Handsome, too, but that was beside the point. “Care for a dance?” 

I stepped closer to him until I could see his eyes clearly enough to make out the green around his pupil and I laughed. “Very funny.”

“I’m sorry?” He was still smiling, but it was slightly confused now.

“Your friend put you up to this, huh?” I put a hand to my forehead and laughed. “That is the most elaborate wingman scheme I have ever heard of.” 

A small furrow formed between his very nice eyebrows. Could eyebrows be nice? “I don’t know who you’re mistaking me for, but I’m only here with my sister. I just thought you were pretty and wanted to dance with you.”

Bullshit. “How tall are you?”

He was looking warier by the second, probably regretting ever asking his friend to set him up. “Five eleven, I think?” 

“And a half?”

“What?” 

It had been a long day. It was hot, the silk of the gown was sticking to my skin, and I could feel my makeup melting, so I made up my mind and grabbed his wrist, dragging him behind me as I beelined for the tarot man’s tent. 

“Uh, ma’am? I really meant a literal dance. I don’t really do hookups or that sort of thing…?” He was glancing nervously over his shoulder as if wondering whether he should start shouting for help. He really was quite handsome. 

“I’m not trying to hook up-” I came up short as I approached the tarot man’s tent. Or where the tent was, because now it was an empty face painting booth, the only sign of life was the woman sitting behind the counter, thoroughly engrossed in her phone.

“Excuse me?” I had to say it three more times before the woman finally deigned to look at me. “Where’s the tarot booth that was here before?”

“I’ve been here all day.” Her voice was bored and she immediately looked back down at her phone. 

I spun around to face the man who now looked legitimately a little afraid of me. “I swear I’m not crazy.”

“I’m not totally convinced.”

“I’m sure he just packed up and went home. He really wasn’t your friend?” 

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” The look on his face seemed genuine, so I sat and thought for a moment. If he was telling the truth, the tarot man must have seen him earlier in the day and chosen his features at random. Logical explanation.

“Okay, I accept,” I said. 

“Accept…?

“I’ll dance with you.” 

He backed up a couple steps. Slowly, like I was a wild animal or a serial killer. “I actually think I’m just going to head back, my sister’s probably waiting for me.” And then he turned on his heel and ran. 

I sighed and turned in a slow circle, observing the now mostly abandoned portion of the fair. The sounds of the ball were soft in the distance and the night air had taken on a slight breeze. It was nice and almost peaceful, and I had the sudden realization that despite acting like a lunatic for the last few minutes, I actually did have fun today. 

I gathered my skirts in my hands like a real Regency-era heroine about to embark on a journey down the ballroom stairs, but I felt something shift as I stepped forward. When I looked down, I nearly jumped out of my skin. The Lovers card, staring up at me from where my foot rested halfway on it. And when I picked it up and turned it over, there was a phone number on the back. 

“Allison,” I said out loud, despite knowing that there was absolutely no way she could hear me from clear over there. “Allison!” 

I started running back toward the ball, the horrible quality violin music being played via a teenager’s aux cord getting louder and louder. When I got close enough, I spotted Allison dancing with a new man, this one in a full tuxedo, no top hat. 

I called her name again and was pushing through the crowd toward her when movement from the edge of the dance floor caught my eye. Right there, under the slightly flickering fairy lights and fairground stadium lighting, I saw a man in a velvet suit and top hat slide some bills into the hand of a man who looked to be about 5’11½”. 

I felt a tug on my arm and was snapped out of my daze by a flushed and smiling Allison. “Are you having fun?” 

By the time I looked back, both men were gone. 

I shrugged. “Best day of my life.”