This is something new and different for me. I realise I have a few stories going on and they are all still being written, but it will take some time due to other commitments. I'm usually not big on historical themes so to speak, but after coming across a few of late, a little scene popped up in my head and refused to leave and so here is the first chapter of The Vixen of Valden.
I hope you enjoy it.
--
Arabella Lark's eyes swept the ballroom surreptitiously. Although she was late and it was well into the evening, she wasn't one to make grand entrances. She could hardly stand the bourgeois and the only people that were worse, were the ones who actually had money. Unfortunately she was one of them. The thought made her pause, and smile to herself, but it didn't last long when she found she was seated near Edward Heath and Henry Winstead, and not fresh pickings like she'd hoped. Sitting at table she glanced at the dance floor and discreetly perused the men. Perhaps, all wouldn't be lost tonight.
"Miss Lark, how lovely of you to grace us with your presence." Edward had returned to his seat, giving her the once over as his eyes lingered unabashedly on her cleavage.
Arabella didn't proffer her hand. "Mr. Heath." She nodded in acknowledgement.
A shadow crossed his face and she sensed his annoyance. They'd had sex a few seasons ago—it was unimpressive and Arabella had told him so. Unfortunately it had only made him desperate to try again, and not run away with a wounded ego. She hid a smile, no doubt he would have slept his way across town through all the brothels. No girl worth their salt whether it was someone waiting to be married off or a chamber maid would sleep with him—especially if they valued their reputation or livlihood, and the whores? Well they got paid, so of course they'd tell him what he wanted to hear. Then there was Arabella... This time she couldn't suppress the smile on her face.
"Might I ask what you find so amusing?" Edward persisted, his brown eyes searching hers.
It was a shame actually, he wasn't a bad man. He was pleasant enough to look at: tall, medium build, a full head of blond hair. He came from a reasonable family, but Arabella was not interested.
That fact was enough to drive her father insane, who'd tried several times to marry her off. She'd never been short of suitors, but the success rate had spawned rumours that she was going to wind up a spinster—that was if she wasn't already. The gossipers would never say that to her face, but Arabella didn't care.
"Nothing Mr. Heath" She wasn't rude, but her tone told him she wasn't going to continue the conversation.
"Miss Lark, your father requests your presence." Arabella looked up to see Stanley, smiling politely.
"Of course Stanley." She stood up and shot him a glance that said what does he want now?
Stanley shot back a sympathetic look and she sighed. Her father was up to his match-making schemes again. Surely he would've given up by now—Arabella was twenty-eight and for a moment, the thought made her feel a little guilty. Twenty-eight was far too old for him to continue attempting to marry her off and no doubt in some ways it made him somewhat of a laughing stock. If it wasn't for the fact that he was far wealthier than his contemporaries, the gossip or treatment likely would have been far worse.
Arabella had managed to force the last few men to withdraw their proposals. It did make her sad that her father had offered to compensate them handsomely, not to mention the knowledge of her inheritance which was substantial in itself.
Arriving at his table, her father stood up and embraced her, kissing her affectionately on the cheek. "Arabella dear."
"Father." She gave him a genuine smile.
"Darling, I'd like you to meet—"
She almost missed the name, overwhelmed by the sinking disappointment in her chest.
"Mr. Ezra Black."
Arabella turned to appraise him coolly, and found her eyes sweeping upwards and meeting his dark gaze. He stood almost a head above her. She extended her hand.
"Mr. Black."
"Miss Lark," his voice was smooth and deep as he held her hand, his lips brushing against her fingers. "Delighted," he drawled, sounding as though he was anything but.
Arabella almost snatched her hand back.
"Now why don't you two go dance." Her father looked pleased with himself and Arabella ground her teeth, smiling tightly.
"May I?" Ezra tugged her hand gently, guiding her to the dance floor.
--
Ezra proved to be quite the gentlemen and an adept dancer, although Arabella refused to make eye contact with him as they circled the dancefloor.
"Miss Lark."
This time she looked up. "Mr. Black."
He watched her face, but didn't say anything and Arabella sighed.
"Mr Black. It's fine you don't have to dance with me. I'm sure whatever my father offered you was incredibly attractive, but I can assure you it will not work out. Please feel you've done your best and we can call it a night on the dancing."
Arabella's brow furrowed at his silence. "Mr. Black?"
"I see."
"I'm glad you do." She looked over at her empty seat.
"You father hasn't offered me anything, although he did mention a proposal."
She sighed in exasperation. "Let me make this easier for you. He will likely offer you an amount that will raise your eyebrows, provided that you marry me."
"Mmm."
"Yes, mmm."
"You don't look like someone who would have difficulty getting married."
Arabella suddenly smiled slyly. "Mr. Black, you are absolutely correct. I do not have difficulty, but I'm twenty-eight, far past the supposed marrying age."
He continued as he hadn't heard her. "Even the coldest, or most uptight women can still manage find a husband."
For a moment Arabella stared at him with her mouth open, and then she laughed, unable to stop until tears rolled down her face.
Ezra looked at her in confusion, as though she'd suddenly lost her mind.
Dabbing at her eyes, the laughter finally died away and she glanced to the side, realising they'd stopped dancing, but were close enough to the edge of the dancefloor so as not to be in the way of other couples.
"Oh my." She smiled. "We're you expecting me to slap you? Do not presume to know me Mr. Black." With that Arabella turned on her heel, said goodbye to her father and left the ball.
--
Erza was almost slack-jawed at her departure. She was right, he was expecting her to slap him or at the very least be angry, and instead, she looked at him as though he'd just said the funniest thing in the entire universe. He actually would have laughed himself if he wasn't so surprised—her laughter was infectious, and he found himself smiling. There was no doubt that Arabella Lark was a beautiful woman, from her ebony to her dark eyes, pale pink lips, but Erza Black had seen plenty of beautiful women in his life... He pictured her face again laughing and conceded that she was probably one of the most beautiful women he'd ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on, but what was wrong her?
--
Arabella dismounted her horse, giving it an affectionate pat, her breath misting in the darkness. She looked around carefully before emerging from the trees and heading across to the old barn.
"You're late."
"Yes. What are you going to do, spank me?" Arabella drew her hood back.
