He didn’t see the sunset outside that streaked the sky with glorious pinks and oranges, turning the overgrown gardens to a shimmering gold. He didn’t hear the click of the door as the housekeeper peeked in and then scurried away again, leaving a dinner tray on the table outside. He stared down at the invitation on the window ledge. The white card was so heavy the warm summer breeze didn’t stir it. The black engraving was dark and stark. A midsummer masked ball. A night of champagne, music, gardens crowded with tipsy revelers in feathered masks. Noise and light and heat. Nothing sounded worse. David took a deep drink of the whiskey, rough and hot at the back of his throat. But it didn’t make the card disappear. Most people knew better than to send him invitations now. When he first came home from the war, his mother still lived here at the abbey with him and she urged him to go out to balls and dinners, to meet people—especially marriageable young ladies. She wanted things to go on just as they always had, in the orderly, pretty, Edwardian world she grew up in.
What do You think about Girl In The Beaded Mask (2011)?
