Dancing At Midnight

John made no mention of his impending proposal during the entire next week, even though he escorted Belle to a few affairs and called on her nearly every morning. She didn't bring up the topic, either. She knew he would deny it, but he was enjoying his plans, and she didn't want to spoil his fun. Every so often he would give her a sidelong assessing kind of glance, and she knew he was up to something.

Her suspicions proved correct one morning when he arrived at the Blydon mansion with three dozen perfect red roses, which he promptly laid at her feet right in the middle of the great hall. He sank down on one knee and said,

'Drink to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine;

Or leave a kiss but in the cup,

And I'll not look for wine.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise,

Doth ask a drink divine:

But might I of Jove's nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.'

He almost got away with it. Belle's eyes misted up, and when he said the part about the kiss in the cup, her right hand strayed involuntarily to her heart.

'Oh, John,' she sighed.

Then disaster struck.

Persephone descended the stairs.

'John!' she cried out in a delighted voice. 'That is my absolute favorite! How did you know?'

John lowered his head and clenched his fists at his sides. Belle shifted her hand from her heart to her hip.

'My father used to recite that to my mother all the time,' Persephone continued, her cheeks rosy. 'It never failed to make her swoon with happiness.'

'I can imagine,' Belle muttered.

John looked up at her, his expression sheepish.

'And it was especially appropriate, you know,' Persephone added, 'as her name was Celia, God rest her soul.'

'Appropriate?' Belle asked, her eyes never leaving John's. As for him, he wisely kept his mouth shut.

'It's called 'Song: To Celia,' after all. By Ben Jonson,' Persephone said with a smile.

'Is it now?' Belle said wryly. 'John, who is Celia?'

'Why, Persephone's mother, of course.'

Belle had to admire him for keeping a straight face. 'Well, I'm glad that Jonson wrote the verse. I'd hate to think that you were writing poetry to someone named Celia, John.'

'Oh, I don't know, Celia's a fine name, I think.'

Belle offered him a sickly sweet smile. 'I think you'll find that Belle is far easier to rhyme.'

'I'm sure it is, but I prefer a challenge. Now then, Persephone-that would be a poem worthy of my intellect.'

'Oh, stop,' Persephone laughed.

'Persephone… Hmmm, let's see, we could use cacophony, but that's not very elegant.'

Belle couldn't help but be swept away by John's good humor. 'How about lemon tree?' she offered.

'That has definite possibilities. I shall have to get to work on it immediately.'

'Enough teasing, my dear boy,' Persephone said, taking John's arm in a maternal fashion. 'I had no idea you were such an admirer of Ben Jonson. He is a particular favorite of mine. Do you also enjoy his plays? I adore Volpone, although it is rather wicked.'

'I've been feeling rather wicked myself lately.'

Persephone giggled beneath her hand and said, 'Oh good. Because I saw an advertisement for a performance. I was hoping to find someone to escort me.'

'I would be delighted, of course.'

'Although perhaps we ought not bring Belle. I'm not sure it's fit for unmarried ladies, and Belle tells me that I'm not quite stern enough as a chaperone.'

'Belle tells you that?'

'Not in so many words, of course. I doubt she wants to spoil such a good thing. But I know which way the wind blows.'

'You're not going to the theater without me,' Belle put in.

'I suppose we shall have to take her,' John said with an affected sigh. 'She can be quite stubborn when she puts her mind to it.'

'Oh, be quiet,' Belle returned. 'And get to work. You have some writing to do.'

'I suppose I do,' John replied, nodding at Persephone as she disappeared down the hall. ' 'Persephone in the Lemon Tree' is sure to be my masterwork.'

'If you don't get to work soon it's going to be 'Belle sends you to hell.' '

'I'm quaking in my shoes.'

'As well you should be.'

John saluted her and then stepped forward and stretched out his arm, assuming a dramatic pose. 'Persephone in the lemon tree-Sings to me indomitably.' He quirked a boyish grin. 'What do you think?'

'I think you're marvelous.'

John leaned down and kissed her on the nose. 'Have I told you that I have laughed more in the last few weeks than I have in my entire lifetime?'

Wordlessly, Belle shook her head.

'I have, you know. You do that to me. I don't know quite how you've done it, but you've stripped away my anger. Years of hurt and pain and cynicism made me brittle, but now I can feel the sun again.'

Before Belle could tell him that that was poem enough for her, he kissed her again and was off.

***

A few nights later Belle was cuddled up in her bed, several anthologies of poetry strewn around her. 'He's not going to fool me with another 'Song-To Celia' again,' she said to herself. 'I'll be ready for him.'

She was a little worried that he might be able to trip her up with one of the newer poets. Her governess had gone over only the classics with her, and it was only because Lord Byron was so notorious that she'd known 'She Walks in Beauty.'

A quick trip to the bookshop that afternoon had supplied her with Lyrical Ballads, by William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge as well as Songs of Innocence and Experience by a rather obscure poet named William Blake. The proprietor assured her that Blake would someday find great fame and tried to sell her The Marriage of Heaven and Hell in addition, but Belle had put her foot down, figuring that there was no way John would be able to find something romantic in that.

A smile on her face, Belle opened up Songs and began to flip through the pages, reading aloud as she went along.

'Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?'

She pursed her lips and looked up. 'This modern stuff is very strange.' Shaking her head, she turned back to the book.

Thump!

Belle caught her breath. What was that?

Thump!

No doubt about it, someone was outside her window. Terror gripped her and she slid out of bed to the floor. On