Chapter 9
By now, dusk had thickened into an inky blue setting for the moon as evening unfolded across the city. I turned off from the busy thoroughfare and drove down a leafy lane with wide pavements. Navigating the traffic around Braxa properly required a certain amount of weaving between cabs, buses and cyclists but here in the suburbs, things weren't so bad. About a quarter of the way down the lane, I turned once again and steered the car through the gates leading up to the Imperial Palace Hotel.
It strikes me as queer that in a republic, many places should be named after things that are reminiscent of empire and royalty. I suppose they evoke some kind of epic grandeur from the past, though considering the Imperial's actual splendour, a more unassuming moniker might have been the way to go.
The hotel was a veritable palace of opulence, with a warm, honey-coloured stone facade, finely proportioned curb roof and tall windows adorned with delicate ironwork balconies. Marble steps led up to ornate doors flanked by tall, white columns and topped with a curved pediment. The walled grounds surrounding the hotel were meticulously manicured -- a tranquil and secluded retreat from the bustle outside.
A line of imposing motorcars queued ahead of us. I brought the convertible to a halt behind them, waiting as they dislodged their passengers and were driven away.
Tires rolled over the gravel driveway, emitting an oddly pleasing crunching and grating sound as cars advanced.
Ahead of us, a couple stepped out of a black automobile and onto the red carpet leading up to the entrance. As the woman stopped to adjust her shawl, the man straightened his tie and tuxedo jacket. He cast a glance at his reflection in the polished paintwork of the car before handing the keys to a valet attendant. At the top of the steps, a liveried doorman held the door open for the pair and beckoned them inside.
I pursed my lips in a silent whistle, amazed by the lavishness of it all. The "Woodchopper's Ball" was already living up to its illustrious reputation.
By ancient custom, thawing winter and the approach of spring marks the beginning of the social season. Calendars become crowded as balls, carnivals and house parties are celebrated with exuberance. The season commences with a series of balls that take place during the final twelve days of winter -- though they are known as "spring balls" nonetheless. They have become known for the "country maiden" style outfits worn by young women attending. Although rooted in traditional folk attire, over time, the outfits have become a little less traditional, with hemlines and necklines veering somewhat from maidenly propriety.
The ball at the Imperial was not just one of the many season-opening functions. Hereabouts, the "Woodchopper's Ball" was an important social occasion in its own right. Its name might have conveyed humble folksiness -- a vestige from a time when professional guilds organised these sorts of events -- but it had long ago ceased to be anything of the sort. I gather there is a degree of vying and jostling involved in securing a coveted invitation.
I had been to spring balls before, but none of them could compare to the glitzy event at the Imperial. Beside me, my two companions fizzled with excitement at the prospect and despite my cloudy mood, I began to share their anticipation.
Enide and Andra had been due to attend the ball last year, escorted by Andra's brother, though apparently, something had gone awry. From what I had gleaned, there was a row between Andra and her brother.
I had been at home, brooding over what had transpired with Enide the day before and frolicking around ballrooms the furthest thing from my thoughts. The telephone rang, not long after I'd returned from dropping off Mother and Mirrla.'
"Good morning Rody," Andra said cheerfully after I'd answered.
"Hello Andra," I said, my mood lifted by the sound of her voice. "How goes it?"
"Splendid. How are you?"
"Oh, you know -- thoughts in a whirl, heart heavy with sorrow -- so on and so forth," I lamented, only partly in jest.
Andra laughed. "Come along now -- a young man of good breeding and sound mind like you --there are plenty of ----"
"If you say," I warned, "anything about 'fish' and 'sea', I shall hang up."
Andra kept laughing, "Look, what you need to do is clear your head -- regain your equanimity. Why don't you take a brisk walk in the countryside -- set off for the rolling hills and verdant meadows -- that sort of thing."
"Have you called just to be annoying and sprout cliches?" I inquired. "Because, as it happens, I was thinking of donning a tweed and going off for a bit of fresh air while fretting over the callous, merciless nature of love."
"Ha! Look who's sprouting cliches now!" Andra bellowed on the other side of the line.
"How was Enide?" I asked pensively, bringing things around to what I'd been wanting to ask from the beginning. "What did she say?"
"Oh... well. Do you have all day?" Andra asked with a patient sigh. "She is ornery -- embarrassed -- upset -- frustrated. And that's just how she feels about herself."
"And this self-flagellation -- I suppose it manifested itself as ----"
Andra picked up after my pause. "Many allusions to your lack of guile and character," she confirmed.
"I thought as much," I huffed in resignation.
"But Rody, joking aside, she really does want to talk -- and to apologise -- so don't make it hard for her tonight," Andra advised.
"Tonight? Why?" I asked. "What happens tonight?"
"I hope you are joking," Andra said slowly, her tone deadly serious.
"Honestly -- I'm clueless," I confessed.
There was a long pause. "Perhaps Eni's right about your lack of guile ----"
I cut her off before she could build a head of steam. "Andra... please... I'm in no mood, so curtail your reprehending tone -- just tell me."
"Have you any idea how sought-after invitations to this ball are?" Andra asked with a dramatic flourish.
It finally clicked. "Oh... yes," I recalled, catching up with her meaning. "The to-do over at the Imperial," I remembered going over things with the girls a few days prior.
"The 'to-do'!?" Andra blurted. "Do you know how long it took me -- how long it took Enide -- how long it took us to find dresses for tonight!?"
"Don't worry Andra, I'm all caught up now -- I'll be ready," I assured her.
"Yes, of course!" Andra huffed derisively. "It's easy for you -- you'll just put on a snazzy uniform ten minutes beforehand and -- and ----" she sputtered.
"And look dashing?" I offered helpfully. "Is that what you are trying to say?" I added with a grin and listened as Andra scoffed on the other end of the line.
