Tuesday, January 3rd
A promise was made two days ago here that Yours Truly would spill forth with more salacious details of the New Year's Eve soiree at the Craig Ballroom, above and beyond those of the more mundane variety previously related. Here is that promise delivered, Dear Readers:
Yours Truly, attending deliciously incognito in a borrowed chapeau and garters, witnessed one of Mount Airy’s most popular and, shall we say, bohemian couples, not in a lover’s clench, but in the throes of a decidedly wicked tiff. Such a row! A smattering of its clattering could be heard clear out into the dining room and into the sitting parlors; one wonders what could have brought about such a brouhaha. Mr. K.L. has recently come into quite a neat and tidy sum and Mrs. N.P. does have quite an unruly appetite for dresses and shoes and…oh, Dear Readers, please remember that Yours Truly never said the couple were married. To each other, that is.
And then was spotted, or perhaps glimpsed, Mount Airy’s favorite eccentric and recluse, S.R.J., a man who is only spoken of in hushed whispers and, quite often, nervous titters. Brrr… Yours Truly can still feel the chills even now on her lily-white arms while this missive is being written. Anyway, a stunningly remarkable thing occurred at the soiree concerning the handsome uniformed gentleman: he was seen dancing. And not just dancing, but with an exceedingly lovely girl, the two of them all alone on a semi-private balcony where one could still hear the music – but, fortunately, not the stirrings of war from K.L. and N.P.
Our normally-taciturn S.R.J. seemed quite entranced by the girl, she who was fitted out in a gloriously glowing gown of what appeared to be white silk. In addition, the girl’s nigh-translucent skin and mesmerizing platinum blonde locks suited her gown to a “t” and her matching gloves and shoes were also immaculately appropriate to her ensemble. Yours Truly would go so far as to say she was nothing short of a vision, and S.R.J. would seem to have agreed at that moment. But, here is a troublesome coda to this story: Yours Truly cannot tell you Dear Readers what name this vision answers to, for that little fact remains a mystery. Inquiries were made, questions asked, but, after many blank faces and even blanker memories, not a stitch was uncovered, regrettably. In truth, the girl seems to have disappeared after the Witching Hour, leaving our poor S.R.J. out in the cold, forlorn and…dare we say it…lovelorn?
Oh, it troubles Yours Truly greatly that the girl could not be identified for your edification, Dear Readers. Why, it was almost as if she wasn’t there at all. You don’t suppose…?
Before we become even sillier, let us end this installment and promise to meet again here for more news from high society.
All content (c)Jim Beard 2012
Buy the book here at Amazon.com