Rebecca’s next chapter:
“Annabelle, my dear, how charming to see you again.” Sarina sank gracefully into a beautifully polished bergère covered in straw colored satin. Following her into the room, a footman deposited her package on a nearby table.
A quick post with an enticement to talk!
As we get the pre-ball notifications and nonsense under way, we invite you to click on the Masked Ball tab at the top of Mesmered’s home page and read away. We also want you to leave all coyness at the door and comment as much as possible prior to, through and after the Ball. The programme (subject to moving faster or slower as the case demands) will be posted for your edification in two days. Our stomachs are fluttering with excitement. I may need smelling salts as Mesmered, but as Lucia Brabante, writer and lover of Ser Niccolo de Fleury, I am fearless. Can’t speak for my co-conspirators!
(Parthenope seated at her workbench, Bacigalupo in an easy chair by the fireplace.)
Bacigalupo: ‘May I speak?’
Parthenope: ‘One moment. Counting.’ (pause)
Bacigalupo: ‘Is this one of the very tiny ones?’
The Masked Ball rapidly approaches and I thought that you may like to know a little about the friendship that is the foundation of the ball.
I am mesmered and this is the blog I set up in late November of last year, ostensibly to talk writing, my books and the dream of publication. When The Stumpwork Robe was published in Dec of 2008, I had contacted Bo Press to buy a tiny book called The Silk Road for a friend of mine who had just turned 60. I talked briefly via email to the artist because in a previous life I had created artists’ books including a couple of miniatures of my own. As we communicated initially, I told her that I had just been published in the UK, whereupon she immediately bought my book and reviewed it on Amazon. This was Pat Sweet.
Scribbler59’s entry in the backstory competition: read on and enjoy the romp!
“But, Marsie, it’s The Must Have Invitation of the Year,” I pouted. “And I toiled to persuade the Direttore of the Museo di Veniche to grant me an invitation … for the two of us, of course,” I added quickly as I squeezed close on the loveseat and caressed a lock of his blonde hair off his furrowed brow.
I am quite over the dramas of the moment. I am sick and tired of my heart flipping back and forth like a fish on the hook every time the door opens. I am seeking out Parthenope and Sarina because when we are together the three of us, we have many laughs and besides I want their advice on my gown. My dressmaker has completed it and it is divine. I was a little concerned that the white wouldn’t become me, but as my hair is chestnut coloured and my maid has streaked it with lemon juice to provide highlights, I am confident that this at least, I can pull off. As to the confidence of having de Fleury as my partner and having Blakeney stalking him like a hunter stalks deer . . . well that is a whole other thing.
‘Percy! My maid didn’t announce you!’ My heart crashed. I now knew things about Percy Blakeney and I felt shocked, uncomfortable. Even scared until I recalled the numerous kindnesses from he and Marguarite when I first moved to Veniche.
With all this talk of balls and dancing, I (this is me, mesmered, this time) tried to think back to when balls first held a fascination for me. And perhaps it was when television came to our home when I was young. There were wonderful old movies, costume dramas where dashing officers with pristine white regimental jackets would hold beautiful women in their arms and sweep around massive dance-floors, the gowns of silk rippling as the couples spun ever faster.
This most superb backstory for The Masked Ball has been posted on:
http://vvb32reads.blogspot.com/2010/04/charmed-circles-masked-ball-rsvp.html
I urge everyone to go to vvb32’s blog and see the complete post. Thanks velv, for getting into the spirit.
Rebecca Bingham takes up the flag and continues The Masked Ball:
Bacigalupo watched Sarina step beneath the overhanging branches of the large tree. His hand sketched a quick sign and the shadows deepened, as though a dark curtain had been drawn around the two figures, concealing them from view. Turning away, he unhurriedly walked to the fountain, where Parthenope awaited him. They exchanged a conspiratorial look.
