Masks & Masquerades: A Scene from A Match Made at Matlock

Every month at JAV we have a fun theme for the blog and this month’s is Masks & Masquerades.  It made me realize I have rarely written about them so look for more of those coming up soon!

I do have one to share that features Viscount Saye preparing to propose while masked. The scene is from A Match Made at Matlock and I hope you’ll enjoy! I’ll pick someone from among the commenters to win a copy or an audiobook code, so do have your say!

It was extraordinarily vexing to Saye that Aurelia should receive the felicitations and congratulations for what promised to be an unparalleled event. The idea had been his; the dance master had agreed to come on his name; and the Yellow Escubac had been chosen by him to be the signature drink of the party. Aurelia, unimaginative bird that she was, had whinged that the guests ought to be served a more customary ratafia besides, but Saye had rejected that outright. “The moment you said customary, you lost me,” he informed her.

Then there was the matter of his costume. The time he had put into thinking of it was not inconsiderable, and the fortune it had cost him not insubstantial. But worth it? Indubitably.

He had chosen Gatto as his mask, but not the cat alone; he had a masque con gatto veneziano, two masks in one—the first, a handsome man, the second a cat, heavily bejewelled and elegantly perched atop the face of the man. It was also twice the dose of cleverness—not only was his Gatto the match to Lilly’s, but the cat wore a collar of aquamarines and diamonds that was, in truth, an engagement present. He would propose, Lilly would accept, and then she would receive her gift.

But it would be the proposal itself which would be truly outrageous. Naturally, his first inclination was to fill a room somewhere with exotic flowers, set off fireworks, have the opera singer serenade her, something with true éclat. It had been Darcy who had rather put a damper on all of that.

“I have always supposed that you hide behind your excess,” he had said. “Better to stupefy and amaze than allow some proper romantic frailty to show. Have you considered that she might appreciate being acquainted with your sensibilities?”

Darcy did say the stupidest things sometimes, and Saye had not scrupled to tell him so—but dash it all if that accursed brother of his had not got in on the act, stroking his chin like some great philosopher and opining, “’Tis rather a terrifying business, to lay oneself bare before a woman.”

But the de rigueur quip about the miniaturised flute Fitzwilliam kept in his breeches had gone unheard. Darcy was all grave and instructional, telling them all, for the thousandth iteration, “I can assure you, when Elizabeth and I went walking that October afternoon, right at the very moment I knew was my chance to offer a second—”

“Bah! Do we need to hear this again?” Saye had cried out. In truth, it had become almost physically painful to him to be subjected, once again, to the tales of Darcy’s courtship of Elizabeth.

“I am saying it required a great deal of courage, because not only did I need to bare my soul, I needed to do it with the sounds of her vehement refusal yet in my ears!”

“In this we are equal. Lilly has refused me twice.”

“Those were nothing to how Elizabeth refused me.”

“Oh? How might you have liked it if she refused you in your very own home?” Saye retorted.

“Are we truly going to compete for who was rejected the most violently?”

“I am only saying there is no more grievous insult to a man than to be cut down on the very floors his ancestors trod.”

And somehow amid various boasts, insults, dares, and exclamations over the meaning of true courage, Saye had found himself betting his cousin and brother that he would have his beloved’s hand with nothing to recommend his suit but his own flawless exposition of charming vulnerability and humble entreaty. Blast!

He supposed he might find solace in the fact that it was sure to astonish her.