Secrets and Answers

The confusion reigning in her mind did not dismiss the fact, however, that she felt none other than a little silly following a voice in a dream, or that courage was fading even as her resolution grew stronger. Indeed, she wondered why she was so willing to make such a huge leap on so transient of grounds, for if Lupin was anything, she was consistent in her urges, or at least she had made herself so. But despite self doubt, a trailing sense of essential questioning, and a good deal of terror at the proximity of risk, Lupin forced herself to continue. Her only chance to solve the mystery would be to ask the gentleman his name and identity in the world, and the only way to do that would be to somehow induce him to dance with her. She had very little recourse as to how, exactly, for to ask him for one would be unutterably unconventional, and the chances in his solicitation of her were slim indeed. Lupin could only imagine one route to the desired goal. Long ago, in the past upon a window seat, she had read a very interesting strategy in a horrid novel of little Culture or Taste. The heroine, being a damsel of much distress, had inadvertantly fallen into the arms of the Horrid Villain and been forced thereby to dance with him. Lupin hoped that such things worked in opposite roles; that is she hoped he would be forced to dance with her. Firstly, however, he must be lured to the scene of the plan, and so there must be suitable bait. Lupin imagined the presence of a certain libation would most probably invite curiousity, and so she disappeared into the yard, hoping he would not vanish in the interim of her absence. Her absence did not occur quite as soon as she had hoped, however. Indeed, it was not fated to happen at all. For as she rushed from the whirling scene, a hand gripped her arm.
“My dance, I believe.” A long voice, thinly veiled by a slur of alcohol, but not untowardly handsome. Lupin twirled to see who dared importune her on her mission. It was a tall gentleman, dressed predominantly in an impudent purple velvet. His hair was powdered, his eyes no abnormal size or shape ‘neath the half mask he yet wore. Still Lupin’s reaction was one oof severe distaste.
“Your are mistaken,sir,” she stated coldly, but as she did, she was cut midsentence when he pulled her into the moving circle that lay before them. It was a strange country dance just recently imported from Germany, by a close friend of the Lady Lavigne, and it involved the close embrace of the lady and man executing its steps. Lupin was neither amused nor even slightly interested by the novelty or the impropriety of such a display. She was thoroughly annoyed and not a little frightened. Feelings of entrapment wove with those of frustration and confusion at unknown social codes. She had been told never to leave a man on the dance floor, but surely if one was press-ganged into such a situation? Her black velvet half-mask made it impossible to see her unwanted companion’s face, and Lupin was dearly glad that it was so. She did not want to look at him when she began to struggle. At the right moment, in the dance she broke away, or she jerked out of the man’s embrace, but, unfortunately, he held still her hand in his own, and kept them soundly in his grasp, pulling her back to the steps. She did not do this willingly, and managed to step recklessly upon his toes, housed as thy were in expensively flimsy shoes. He seemed to see this as a challenge, and though she valiantly pulled and pushed, little came of it, save for a small commotion to the other pairs of dancers.
She relaxed suddenly and without warning. And she stayed that way, as if she had relinquished her being to some higher god and died beneath the hands of a stranger. She followed her partner’s steps move for move until he was self-assured. He could not hold her vice-like and dance with her at the same time. She submitted to his highly flamboyant turn, and then, at the end of the flying circle, she let go of him, and stepped quietly back. He stumbled, and realizing what had happened, began to curse. Lupin quickly slipped away into the shadows cast by the multi-jeweled silks and expensive velvet that cost a poor man’s year's salary. Lupin dissolved into the scene and disappeared. Her quarry had disappeared as well, and Lupin had a distinct impression he would be nearly impossible to locate in the crushing gala. She felt as if she had been given a sour lemon in lieu of a candy drop. Her mouth was cold and her stomach felt old and thin. After so much! She had lost her hope for any understanding.

* * *
Answers are secrets and secrets are treasures stolen and lost – bought and traded. The impression from her dream stayed with her for hours after she had awakened. She had been searching, searching through brandy and cellars for the treasure – for the jewel. She had found naught but a note read by a familiar voice. She thought it was an answer. She couldn’t remember. But the essence fo the dream stayed constant despite forgetfulness. Secrets and answers were one and the same. Somehow she must purchase her secret.