The Cursed, Pt. 4.2

The Cursed

Part 4.2

~x~

Celia could not get over how uncomfortable the carriage was bumping along the road. Or perhaps it was the dress that was making the ride uncomfortable for her.

She had insisted to Noelle that she was not interested in being dolled up, but the girl seemed to pay her no mind as she powdered Celia's nose and applied color to her lips. Celia did have a say in what dress she would wear, though, which she was plenty pleased with. Adorned on her body was a snowy white dress with a flowery neckline that was stitched in gold. Its sleeves were capped and its gown bloomed around her, just barely hiding the white heels situating her feet.

Throughout the dressing, Celia kept sure to keep herself covered — at least her chest. She was not bashful, but she was not keen on questions, which would be inevitable if Noelle ever got a peak of the scar running straight across her chest. Generally, questions didn't make Celia nervous. No matter how much it was disapproved, she liked asking them. And no matter how much it was unwanted, she liked answering them.

But it was the questions Celia didn't know the answer to that peaked her nervousness. The questions Celia wouldn't be able to answer with just a minute, an hour, a day to muddle over. Questions Celia was sure Noelle would want to run by her, mostly questions about the scar's origin.

Because she didn't know the answer to that herself. And unlike the questions she liked getting answers for, she didn't want to know the answer herself.

The scar wasn't something she was proud of. It wasn't something she reveled in. It was ugly and jagged and unwanted. She often pretended like it didn't exist; just like how she was now trying to pretend her worry over her mother's meeting didn't exist.

Celia didn't see Irma on her way out this morning. She didn't know if that made her relieved or not — to have to have faced her. Perhaps it was a good thing.

The carriage sped over a bump, and Celia was brought back to the now: grimacing over how uncomfortable the dress felt in a moving vehicle. By now, she should have been used to wearing such attire, but this time she felt uneasy. Unbidden, flashbacks of earlier came at her and suddenly, she wasn't sure if it was the dress making her uncomfortable anymore.

Beside her, Noelle chattered mindlessly throughout the ride, which Celia was thankful for. Better the ramblings of Noelle than the ramblings of her dark thoughts.

Soon enough, Celia caught site of the Chancellor's mansion. Primefrost balls were usually held there, in addition to official gatherings, political and non-political. Being the daughter of the head councilwoman, Celia was not unfamiliar with it.

"You know," Noelle said, as the carriage slowed behind the other carriages dispatching their passengers at the front door, "they say Wilbur Shields is looking for a girl at this ball."

As their carriage rocked along the line, Celia murmured, "That's nice."

"Oh, his eyes will be everywhere, searching and searching!" Noelle said, apparently not noticing Celia's flat tone. "To be the wife of the Chancellor's son, who most likely will become Chancellor himself — that would be a great honor."

Celia considered it briefly. "I suppose it would," she said, looking outside the carriage window: a scene of festivity. The Chancellor's home was decorated from top to bottom, with lights and banners. It was a scene that drew Celia's breath away every year and this year, it had no troubles doing so. Though this year, she did feel a hitch in her breath as soon as an unwanted thought appeared.

She swallowed. She promised herself that she would stay relaxed. That did not mean that she would not be cautious — because she would — but that meant that she would at least try to enjoy herself. The usual light atmosphere of Primefrost balls would undoubtedly help her. That, and her chattering companion.

Noelle let out an excited sound — to which Celia resisted covering her ears over. "Absolutely. Josephine was the one who told me all this. She read through some of the letters her father and the Chancellor sent each other. Usually, those letters are filled with political nonsense until the Chancellor mentioned Wilbur's intentions." She suddenly broke out of her starry gaze, peering at Celia. "Celia? Are you all right?"

Celia smiled softly at her friend's concern, and managed to compose herself when answering, "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a bit tired." That was not the whole truth, but it was some of it. Lady Magdalene's chat with her mother wore her out more than it should have, considering she was not sitting through it herself. Perhaps it was her constant state of rigidness and racing thoughts throughout the encounter that sucked out most of her energy. That would at least explain why her headache was still nowhere near gone.

Noelle smiled a sympathetic smile before reaching across to pat Celia's folded hands. "Do not worry. The night will go fabulous, and you will forget how tired you are once we get there. I promise."

Times like this made Celia grateful for her friend. Her smile widened. "I hope so."

Noelle sat back and said, "Yes." And as if to make light of the situation, she casually said, "I personally hope for Wilbur to notice me tonight. I didn't put this much effort into my looks for nothing."

Celia felt a light air around her and laughed. "I hope for that too."

"Wilbur's never managed to attend any of the Primefrost balls himself, even though they're always held at his home." Noelle paused, as if she were taking the time to think. "Actually, I don't think he's managed to attend any balls thrown anywhere."

The topic didn't interest Celia, but she would be sure to go for normalcy: "Is that so?"

"Yes!" Noelle piped. She went on to say, "I had my own thoughts of the matter, but Josephine and the girls told me they heard he didn't like the attention.

Celia said, "You seem to be going off on a lot of Josephine's whispers."

Noelle waved a hand in the air. "Only because she's the most reliable source. Her father is good friends with the Chancellor." Then she went to pipe, "Apparently Wilbur's planning for a spring wedding. Spring! In only a couple of months!"

Their carriage was almost next. Celia gathered her skirts and asked, "Wouldn't that be what you want?"

Noelle's face began to redden. "What I want?"

Celia smiled. "You're not as indiscreet as you may think. We've been friends long enough for me to know when you're interested in someone without you outright saying it."

A strangely bashful look featured Noelle's face, her tone careful as she spoke. "I'm not particularly interested in Wilbur Shields; I'm only taking notice of him and his plans." Noelle looked down at her hands, which were now folded at her lap. "Plan that I hope will involve me. He's handsome and wealthy and established. All the things my mother would want for a son in-law. The problem is, I don't even know him. Never even spoken a word to him whereas you . . ."

"Whereas I what?" Celia said, with raised eyebrows.

Noelle looked up at her. "You actually know Wilbur."

Celia said, "I knew him. Barely. A few play dates as children hardly counts as me knowing him. And from what I remember, he wasn't exactly the nicest child."

She remembered the tormenting Wilbur Shields had put her through when her mother brought her along to the Chancellor's house for gatherings. With the other children, Celia would be shut in a play room and forced to stay for hours. During the first trips to the house, she kept to herself, watching as the other kids flew off from tables with battle cries and climbed along the window curtains like monkeys. For a while none of the other children minded her reservedness, and she was quite happy with that. But she later realized that to some, a person keeping to their self strangely equated to a person who could be bothered.

That, Celia figured, was Wilbur Shields's logic when he strolled to where she stood and shoved her to the ground.

"He's grown out of that, I'm sure," Noelle insisted just as their carriage rolled to a stop.

Perhaps, Celia thought, but didn't find herself caring enough for that to be a reality. "Whether he has or not, it does not affect me."

"You could introduce us," Noelle suggested.

"That wouldn't do you any good, considering he has probably forgotten all about me," Celia said, just as the door swung open, and the coachmen stood with his hand available for them to grasp.

Noelle stepped out of the coach first, keeping sure not to bump her head against the top of the door's opening, and Celia followed right after. At the door, they were greeted by Chancellor Shields himself and his wife, Lady Phillipa, to which Noelle, Celia noticed with a humored smile, gave an extra air kiss.

At the entrance of the ballroom stood the servants, all of which expressed the festivity in the air in multiple forms: outrageous wigs, hats, face painting. It conflicted with their uniforms in a way that one would surely give a second glance at on any other day but today was Primefrost, and so it was looked over.

And the ballroom. The spacious ballroom with its high ceilings that seemed never-ending, glittering chandeliers that twinkled from any angle, dancers fashioned in masks and decorative outfits, synchronized musicians that were in the center of it all. . . .

It was the kind of ballroom Celia had pretended to dance around with Noelle in their childhood. The same ballroom that made her feel like a princess time after time.

Just why was I ever considering missing this? Celia wondered as they walked further in, briefly closing her eyes, her ears perk just as the musicians moved onto another piece.

"I knew it," Noelle said, jarring Celia out of her reverie, her eyes flying open. She stopped in her place and found Noelle's smile to be a clever one. "Oh, I knew it. You wanted to come all along, didn't you?"

Consciously, no, Celia did not want to come along. But being at the ball, she couldn't help what her subconscious was striving to show. She found it useless to deny it any longer.

Celia only smiled as she confessed, "I may have wanted to deep down." She began walking again when she noticed an empty table, and so did Noelle.

With a carefree laugh, Noelle said, "Good thing I came along." Her mouth opened but then closed just as her eyes began to wander and then stop. Then, she leaned her head in to whisper, "There!" At that, Celia's eyes began to wander over to where Noelle's were fixed, but before she could focus her gaze, a hand clamped down on her arm and spun her around. "No, don't you look! He'll feel our eyes on him."

Celia put her hand to her head, her body unprepared for the sudden twisting it'd undergone. "What is going on?"

"It's him," Noelle said, her eyes still away. "I didn't think we'd see Wilbur so soon."

"Well, it's as you said, correct?" Celia asked. "Looking for a wife, I'm sure he'd have to show his face at some point throughout the night." And better sooner than later, Celia figured, so he'd be able to see most of the guests arriving.

Noelle let out a groan. "But why so soon? I haven't even gotten a plan ready."

"A plan?"

"Yes," Noelle said with a nod. "A plan to ensnare him as my husband. You see, I had originally planned to introduce myself as his future wife, but thought that was too forward so I wanted to spend some time thinking over what I wanted to start out — wait, is that Josephine?"

The way Noelle's jaw dropped peaked Celia's curiosity, causing her to glance over her shoulder to witness the scene. And there it was, Josephine on the arm of Wilbur Shields, who looked questionable of the situation himself.

"Looks like she's being proactive," Celia mused lightly.

"Apparently so," Noelle said. With a bright smile, she tossed her hair. "No matter. The night is young, and our Chancellor in-the-making has not met me yet. Oh, save me a seat, would you, Celia?"

A slight laugh escaped Celia as she nodded and before she opened her mouth to speak, Noelle had scurried off. Shaking her head with a smile, Celia moved to the table to sit where she collected two glasses offered by a passing waiter. She set the second glass meant for Noelle at the space next to her, and took a sip to her lips, letting her eyes settle on the circle of musicians.

The orchestra's movements were graceful, the instruments yielding to their every command. Every note was played delicately and every strings's melody were sounded heartily, and Celia wished she was a part of it too. She'd stand with the other violinists, with her Duchess in her arms, sawing her bow away just as the conductor waved his baton away.

A sigh escaped her, and Celia felt her hands flutter in the air in tune with the music.

AN: The other "half". It's actually more than a half. Just trying to develop things more; I don't think anything big happens here. But hey, something that might be exciting - a new character is introduced in the next part. Feel free to attack this, I'm kinda iffy about it. Thanks for reading! -comrie