Only One True Love

“Lady Clarabeth Pagesworth.” The plump, liveried royal footman announced me as I waited behind the oak-wood doors.

“Thank you.” I whispered as I stepped into the view of the opulently bedecked royal ballroom. Today was the 24th day of December, the night of the Midwinter Ball. It was no ordinary ball; only one of the most important balls of the year. It was the most happening night of the year and nobles fell over each other for the favour of the King all year to procure themselves a coveted invite.

The 30-foot Royal Christmas tree in the middle of the hall, underneath the famed Diamond Chandelier, was adorned with various crystal ornaments in every colour of the rainbow, ranging from baubles to hand-painted gift bearers and stained-glass candy canes. False-snow that could have fooled me for the real stuff hung over every branch of the fresh-green tree. However, the highlight of it all was the snow angel at the very top, a white porcelain doll the size of a small child with delicate features, a white silk dress, heeled jewel slippers and complete with the solid-gold halo.

The Royal Family was very much enjoying the festive spirit this year, like always. One could count on them to throw the most extravagant party for the kingdom’s elite.

The ballroom beneath me gaped at me in awe. The ladies were all flushed green with envy at my magnificent lilac-silver satin gown and the gentleman were all charming smiles, but not one of them could dazzle me.

The orchestra began to gear up for the first dance, which would apparently be a slow version of the Viennese Waltz, one of my favourite dances. Darren Arsenault, the son of Lord and Lady Arsenault, Marquess and Marchioness of Surigalk, strode gallantly towards me.

“Lady Pagesworth, may I have a dance?” he asked, with his trademark lopsided grin which was nattered incessantly upon by the young ladies for its charm. However, it had no effect whatsoever on me.

“I would be delighted.” The words sprung from my mouth automatically from years of immaculate training in finishing school.

“The pleasure is mine.” Lord Arsenault said in his smooth, chocolate-like tone. A friend of mine from finishing school, Arinel Charmingston, shot me a wink over her partner’s shoulder. I smiled at her; glad she was present.

“I trust this festive season has treated you well?” Lord Arsenault asked, gazing at me through his sapphire eyes.

“It has, and you?” I asked politely, as befit a lady.

“Magnificently. In fact, I’ve had my eye on a certain young lady. She’s very beautiful.” He said, winking deviously. I grinned at him. Despite our formal tendencies, Lord Arsenault and I were childhood friends. As a young, gangly, brown-haired boy, he’d been constantly getting into trouble for all sorts of minor transgressions.

“My, my, whoever could that lucky girl be, Lord Arsenault?” I asked, feigning elation when I was truly surprised. To hear Lord Arsenault had his eye on a girl was like to hear a brother had his eye on a girl.

“Please, call me Lord Darren. We’re childhood friends. Besides, you’ll find out soon enough; I intend to propose to her tonight.” He smiled.

“As you say, Lord Darren.” I teased. I’m sure whoever she is, she’ll be elated.” I didn’t actually mean that. There had to be at least 3 girls in attendance who would not cut off their right hand to be the one.

“Miss Clarabeth, if I may?” he asked, his eyes shining.

“Of course, we’re childhood friends.” I laughed, mocking him.

“Well, then, Miss Clarabeth, you’re most certainly looking lovely tonight.”

“Thank you, Lord Darren. Father specifically commissioned this dress for the occasion, you know, only the Midwinter Ball.” I smiled as the music came to an end, but Lord Darren showed no signs of releasing me.

“I’d be elated if you’d join me for another dance, Miss Clarabeth?” he asked, the devious smile splitting across his smile.

“Of course.” I sighed wearily. It wasn’t Lord Darren’s fault, he was most certainly a wonderful dancer and one of the most sought-out men in the Kingdom, but I liked to dance with more than just one man per ball. Even worser than having to suffer through a second dance with the same courtier was having to suffer through a second waltz with the same courtier. The odds weren’t in my favour with the slow, steady waltz beginning to play.

“One could very much liken the beautiful glint in your magnificent grey eyes to the refractions of light in the diamonds above us.” Lord Darren whispered in my ear as he pulled me closer for the dance. I pulled as far back as the dance would allow me but forced myself to smile.

“I don’t think I hold a candle to any of the beautiful decorations.”

“Oh, but you do. In fact, I think you’re even more beautiful than the Snow Angel at the top of the tree.” I chuckled nervously.

“Please, Lord Darren, you flatter me.”

“Of course I do, how else could I spend my time with the lady I plan to take as my wife?” he asked. My stomach dropped.

“What?”

“Clarabeth Pagesworth, will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?” he asked, sliding a diamond ring out of one of the inner pockets of his suit.

“Lord Arsenault, I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse you. The reason I must turn you down isn’t because I dislike you; I very much respect you, and care for you, but there are plenty of ladies just in this room who could keep you so much happier than I ever could. I’m sorry.” I stuttered my face turning an unflattering shade of puce as I freed myself from the grip of his hands and fled from his heart-wrenching expression. I didn’t want to hurt Lord Arsenault, but I most certainly did not want to be his wife. I ran, cutting diagonally across the ballroom, and straight into a waiting courtier’s arms.

“A dance, Miss Pagesworth?” Lord Baldwin asked, steadying me. He was the son of Earl Baldwin, a wealthy but powerless Earl. His mother had passed when he was young, and it was just him and his father.

“Of course.” I replied. Thankfully, this time I was given the freedom of a quadrille.

“Lady Pagesworth, I will get straight to the point with what I would like to ask you.” Lord Baldwin said. I sighed internally; afraid I knew what was coming.

“I haven’t spent much time getting to know you yet, and I’m aware of it, but I am sure there isn’t a single lady more suited to me than you. You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, the most friendly and cheerful disposition, and you’re an impeccable courtier with manners. If you will do me the honour of being my wife, I vow to-“

“Lord Baldwin, I’m afraid I’ve already had to refuse Lord Arsenault for the very same reason. It is not that you are lacking in anything, but I am afraid you do not have my heart. I respect you, my Lord, but please, do not plead with me; I do not intend to marry someone I do not love. If you’ll allow me.” I gushed, escaping his gentle grip before he could even pull out the ring and heading straight for the ladies’ washroom to evade further young men.

“Running from someone?” Arinel, my winking friend from before, grinned, shooting me a wink from where one of her ladies-in-waiting was applying another fresh coat of powder to her cheeks. She was dressed in a magnificent silk iridescent ice-blue dress with a bodice completely covered in silver embroidery, admiring her pretty reflection in the mirror with a sly grin.

“Good evening, Ari, I’m sorry I couldn’t greet you properly before. Yes, I’m running from two people, actually.” I confessed.

“Leave us.” Arinel commanded her lady-in-waiting, who happened to be Agatha Charmingston, Arinel’ s younger cousin, a gangly yet beautiful redhead.

“Of course, Arinel.” Agatha replied dutifully, hanging her head. As soon as Agatha was out of earshot, Arinel began her endless stream of questions.

“Who are you running from, Arabeth?” Arinel asked, shaking her head slightly. Arabeth was what she called me; it was a spin off on Clarabeth. I hated Clarabeth and wished that my parents had named me Arabeth instead.

“Lord Arsenault and Lord Baldwin.” I said, flushing crimson. Arinel threw her head back in laughter and it took her a minute to regain her composure.

“Goodness, you might have single-handedly managed to make me mess my head of curls that took Agatha and Ingrid an hour! In less than a minute!” she chuckled, smoothing out her strawberry blonde curls. I noticed there were several diamonds and aquamarine stones amidst her locks of hair. Arinel was dear to me, but I knew she was a dreadfully sore overachiever who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. “Why on Earth would you be running from two Lords?”

“They both proposed to me, one after the other. I had to refuse them both, and I’m quite embarrassed to face them now. I’m seeking refuge in the ladies’ washroom so another courtier doesn’t face me with a dance.” I said, taking a seat at one of the vanities.

“Heavens! By the King’s crown, Arabeth, you’re a lucky goose. Lord Baldwin, I can see why you’d turn him down; your own father is twice as wealthy and thrice as influential, but Lord Arsenault? I thought you and he were… associated, am I mistaken? Besides, his father is the king’s right-hand man. Lord Arsenault is a great catch, and now you’ve let him go.” Arinel pouted. I made a disgusted, strangled noise in my throat.

“Yes, you are mistaken, and Arinel Elizabeth Charmingston de Haviland, for heaven’s sake, will you please stop acting as if powerful and moneyed men are river salmon!” I squealed.

“Never mind my views on the subject. You are an odd duck, Ara. However, maybe you’ll get lucky. What do they say, third time’s the charm?” Arinel chuckled, dabbing more powder onto her nose.

“Much help you were.” I grumbled. “I should take my leave; it doesn’t do to spend a ball in the washroom.” I harrumphed, leaving the washroom in a flurry of skirts. Knew it wasn’t exactly Arinel’ s fault; she hadn’t said anything incorrect or to hurt me, but she was frustrating me to high heaven.

“Good evening, Miss Clarabeth.” Prince Lucas greeted, catching me off guard. I could have sworn he smirked at how I stumbled.

“Good evening, Your Highness. I trust you’re enjoying the ball?” I asked, dipping a small curtsey.

“The ball is fine, but I fear I haven’t had the pleasure of greeting all the attendees yet.” The cheeky Prince was insinuating my short absence!

“If I may be frank, Your Highness, I’d very much enjoy the dance you’re offering me. Indirectly.” I said, lowering my head so he wouldn’t see the sneaky grin on my countenance. There couldn’t possibly be another person, especially not young lady, who would dare to address royalty in such a fashion.

“Y-yes, Miss Pagesworth, it would be wonderful.” He stammered, unused to such direct speech, but he didn’t miss a beat to sweep me up for the waltz.

Prince Lucas was tall, but not as tall as Lord Arsenault or Lord Baldwin. His chin would hit the spot between my eyebrows if we were to stand face-to-face. A brilliant white sash cut across his vivid red dinner jacket and the contrast drew all eyes to him. His grey eyes, the colour of stormy skies, matched mine and his blonde waves that contrasted my red mop often had people remarking how well we’d look together.

“You must be tired of dancing, Your Highness.” I said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Lucas, if you’ll please. And no, I’m not. Surely you aren’t, Miss Clarabeth, what with your escapade so early in the evening.”

“I’ll thank you not to be a hound on my scent, Prince Lucas.”

“Anyways, to business, dear Miss Clarabeth. I’m sure you’re aware of my upcoming Selection?” he asked.

“Oh, how couldn’t I? It’s all anyone will talk about.” I droned sarcastically.

“Good. Perhaps you’re aware you’re on the list?”

“I had guessed I would be.” I said, arching an eyebrow. I took great care to sound uninterested; the last thing I needed was for Prince Lucas to think I was another one of those simpering courtiers. However, I bristled at his tone and choice of subject, my stomach taking an unhappy turn.

“Though I intend to go through my parents’ farce of a Selection, I have already made up my mind as to whom I want as my Queen, and I intend to propose to her tonight.”

Oh no, not again. Not the Prince, too.

“It’s you, Clara, that I want. Lady Clarabeth Emilia Pagesworth- “

“Your Highness, please, let me be honest with you. As much as I am honoured you think I’d be a right fit, I can’t. I’m not willing to take on the responsibility of a Queen, despite the Crown that comes with it. If you were anyone else, I might have said yes, but the price that comes with you is too high. Please, if you’ll allow me.” I said, nearly wailing with frustration. I should have felt honoured, in the seventh heaven, on cloud nine to have been proposed to by the Prince himself, but I felt nothing but desperation.

           Thankfully, I spotted my sister, Arcana, idling nearby. I grabbed her arm without a word and pulled her over.

“What is it, Ara? You can’t just pull me over out of nowhere in the middle of a ball!” she whisper-roared after we were safely hidden behind a potted plant. She was 2 years younger than me, at 16 and a half, and very beautiful. She took after our mother, with a peachy complexion, red-brown locks of waves and bright blue eyes that seemed to emit their own glow.

“Prince Lucas just proposed to me! Is that enough for you?!” I whisper-demanded.

“I imagine you refused him?” she whisper-giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Of course! I’m not willing to take on the responsibility of a crown!” I whisper-harrumphed.

“There are girls who’d kill to be in your shoes. Do you think he’ll let me take your place?” Arcana whispered, rubbing my shoulder.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Archie. Yes, I know. But I’m entrusting you to make sure word of this doesn’t reach Mother, or I’ll be forced into spinsterhood for the rest of my life.”

Arcana arched an eyebrow at me. “Here I was, thinking you didn’t want to marry? Arinel told me, about… Lord Arsenault and Lord Baldwin.”

“No reasonable girl would stay a spinster her whole life.” I whisper-snorted.

“No reasonable girl would turn down a Crown Prince!” Arcana whisper-fired back.

“Please. Just do me a favour and keep that whisper quiet.” I whisper-begged.

“I’ll do it, Ara, but I know what you’re doing here. You’re refusing everyone because he hasn’t proposed to you yet. Ara, I know you love him, but you can’t turn down every man in the Kingdom hoping he’ll ask you someday, if he even will.” Arcana whispered.

“I very well can. Enjoy yourself tonight, little sister.” I said, dusting my skirts.

“Lady Clara, good evening.” A friend of mine, Duke Harrington greeted me. He was awfully young to be a Duke, I know, but his parents had both perished in a shipwreck a few years ago.

“Good evening, Duke Clint.” I said, dipping a curtsey. If Lord Arsenault and I were childhood friends, Duke Harrington was like a brother. He’d grown from an awkward, freckled little youth to a brave, fearsome warrior with determined brown eyes and a pale complexion. However, his unfortunate freckles, as he liked to put it, had not gone away with his teenage years.

“I wouldn’t want to impose upon you with a dance, but I believe this hanky is yours.” He said with a smile. I looked down at the small square of cloth, and my heart did a somersault. It wasn’t mine.

“There’s something inside, Clint, and I can’t say it’s mine.” I said elegantly, evading the embarrassing situation and dropping the hanky in his hands as I scurried across the ballroom, just in time to run smack into Arinel.

“Clarabeth!” she squealed. “He’s here!”

“Who is?” I asked, visible confusion on my face. “My brother, Lord Roth?” My brother, Roth, was an emissary to the Kingdom of Leonara, and rarely at home. He was the eldest of the three Pagesworth children and 10 years my senior. The last time I’d seen him was for his wedding, nearly half a decade ago.

“No, you dolt! The one you pine after, him!” she said, jumping up and down.

“Wait… Him?” I asked, lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“Yes, he suffered through a dance with me just so I’d convey a message to you.”

“What message?” I demanded.

“ “Clara, meet me in the gardens at the stroke of midnight; it’s time asked you something important, something you’ll like to hear.” “Arinel gushed. I wondered how she hadn’t yet fainted from excitement. I spared a glance at the magnificent ivory and gold clock on the North Wall, and every cell of my body rippled with pleasure to see the clock was about to chime twelve.

“I’ll be there, Arinel.” I said, running towards the glass doors, regardless of scandalized nobles staring at me. And just as I was about to step out into the cool, fresh night air, a pair of strong, muscled arms closed around my waist and I turned around to see the smiling face of the one I loved.