Dorian sat at the desk in the main sitting room. Three young women sat on the ornate couch across the room from him. Their high laughter tittered around, setting his teeth on edge.
"Dorian, come speak with us," his sister, Jane, called to him.
"I must decline," "he said, going back to his letter. Either it was his tone or Jane's acquaintance with his personality that led her not to press him. He wasn't a man to be swayed when he didn't want to do something and at the moment he wanted to do nothing more than write his letters.
"You're always so quiet, Dorian," Elizabeth said from the couch, stirring her tea.
"I apologize."
"You could make it up to us by joining our circle," Emma added.
"Not now," he said, not looking up from his letters to Jackson's sister. He felt Emma's gaze lingering on him, but would not raise his to his future fiancée's. In her youth she found him fascinating, this infatuation was extending into her early womanhood. He found her endearing, as a sister to a brother. If a match must be made for him, she would work best. It was a relationship of the upmost convenience for their families. "Emma, when did Jackson say he would arrive?"
"This evening. He promised to be home before the ball."
"Thank you."
Then he returned to his letters with a small smile coming to his lips.
*
Dorian stood in front of his floor length mirror adjusting the black double-breasted jacket across his chest. The fastens were large bronze buttons. His ash short hair was fixed, but not overly so leaving the texture and ruffled look hardly tamed. His light gray eyes stood out nicely against his face. He knew he had many flaws. His appearance was not one of them. His pride, bordering on arrogance and quiet, nearly rude, demeanor could be among the highest on the list.
As he left his room he heard the women in their rooms yelling at each other for different articles of clothing. Servants were running this way and that to serve the young ladies. He avoided the business of the hallway and went to the stairs. People were already swarming the lower level, pouring in and out of the ballroom of his family's estate, now only his, as his and Jane's father and mother were dead for many years now.
"Mr. Bay, wonderful party," the town banker called to him.
Dorian inclined his head. This party was of no design on his part. He would much rather be in his library reading. The raised voiced in the ornate hallways ricocheted and built. Emma was indeed beautiful. She was smart and quiet. She would be perfect for him.
As the night progressed, Emma, Jane and Elizabeth finally came downstairs. Emma made a grand entrance in a floor length light purple gown. Her pale hair was done in an elegant style. It made her neck look longer, more delicate. Her neck was his second most favorite feature about her.
The three women never lacked partners. Even Jane, his sister, who was already married to Jackson, had many partners. Dorian watched her dance and heard her laughter. He loved to hear his sister laugh, it was a sweet sound. The hours ticked away and the dances continued. The sun was setting and his nerves became increasingly taut. Soon he would have to make the announcement. He wanted Jackson to be there before he announced his engagement to his sister. It would be rude to do otherwise, among other things. Still, another hour went by and he couldn't wait any longer. He did allow himself one more dance with Emma, it was their third that night. When people saw them dancing they received kind, sweet smiles. Everyone already knew what tonight was about. It was the way things were done. When the music for the dance ended, he took Emma's hand and led her to the front of the ballroom.
He did not have to capture the attention of the surrounding people, his presence alone did that. The guests went silent. Emma's hand became damp in his. He fought the urge to withdraw his from her grasp and wipe it on his pants. It would only stain them and it would look unseemly. That wasn't to be stood.
"Excuse me, if I could have your attention," he said to the room.
The room was already silent. Silent enough that when the heavy sound of someone walking in boots broke through the room, he looked toward the archway. Jackson stood in there from the opening room, still wearing the clothing he had been traveling in. His black jacket had dust on it. Their eyes met and Dorian swallowed hard.
"Dorian?" Emma asked quietly, bringing his attention back to the surrounding people.
"I apologize," he said, turning back to her. He raised his voice again. "I have received the permission of Emma's brother, Jackson Mialve, to marry her. She has accepted my proposal. She is beautiful, I am a lucky man," he said, taking her hand then kissing the back. Then as decorum expected, he leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were soft, the shape of them familiar. They were his favorite feature about her. It was chaste, as all their kisses had ever been and pulled away.
Emma smiled at him nervously, an adorable blush rising in her full, pale cheeks. The applause echoed around the room until his head vibrated with it.
*
Congratulations were given to him through-out the evening. Most people who avoided him, giving him his space as he liked, came up to him now under this pretense. It was as if they expected his personality to change by this occurrence. His personality had not altered and the numerous well wishes annoyed him greatly. Emma had disappeared from his side to receive her own congratulations. She should be congratulated. The Mialve family had a large amount of money, but the connections that the Bay family could give her were wonderful. It was advantageous to be certain. It would be more advantageous for him, even more so than her.
"Congratulations," a man called.
