She slipped through the throng, drawing appreciative glances from the men as she passed, and went into the ballroom. It was full of people in costume, the full skirts of the women competing in their brilliance with the velvet tunics of the men.

Some of the guests were already dancing, but the dance was strange and the music was strange also. It seemed to come from an earlier time, and Elizabeth guessed that it too was a celebration of Venice’s glory centuries before. The men were leaping athletically, and then lifting their partners and spinning them round before putting them down again on the floor. The guests knew the steps, and she thought that they must have hired dancing masters especially to teach them. Alas, she did not know the dances and she wondered if there would be some with which she was familiar later in the evening.

As her eyes ran over the other guests, hoping to recognise someone, she saw a strange figure watching her through a gap in the crowd. He was dressed in the colour of dead leaves and his mask was of dark cream with touches of old gold. He was not Darcy, of that she was sure, but she found him oddly compelling. His mask was moulded into the semblance of a smile, but the smile was distorted so that it looked almost malevolent. There was something gleeful about the grin and something cruel. She tried to look away but found she was held by some power she did not understand. It was only broken when someone stepped between them.

‘Might I have the honour?’ asked the gentleman who had blocked her view.

He spoke in a disguised voice, but there was no mistaking him.

‘Are you sure it is acceptable to dance with your wife?’ she asked mischievously.

His mask was only a half mask, like hers, and he smiled ruefully.

‘You knew me,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said, thinking, I would know you anywhere, no matter how you were dressed. ‘And you recognised me too.’

He had evidently followed her train of thought for he looked at her lovingly and said, ‘Always. No mask could ever disguise you from me. I know the feel of you, Lizzy, and nothing can ever change that.’

He offered her his hand, but she said, ‘I don’t know the dance. I don’t even know its name. Though I don’t suppose it can be difficult,’ she added with an arch smile.

‘No?’ he asked.

‘No. After all, every savage can dance!’

He laughed.

‘I was in a bad humour that night. How could I have been so rude to Sir William? The poor man was just trying to make me feel welcome.’

‘As he was trying to give consequence to a young woman who had been slighted by other men!’

‘Will I ever be forgiven for such a remark? Probably not, nor do I deserve to be.’

‘Oh, I think, now that you have given me a palace, I might consider it,’ she teased him.

‘Only might?’ he asked.

‘Very well, if you teach me the dance, you may consider yourself absolved. Is it a uniquely Venetian dance?’ she asked, as he gave her his hand and led her onto a quiet corner of the floor.

‘No, the galliard is danced everywhere—or was, a long time ago.’

The dance was a strange one, full of lifts and leaps and twirls, but by watching the other dancers and by listening to Darcy, she was able to catch the steps.

‘And now I lift you,’ he said.

He put his hands on her waist and lifted her from the floor, then turned around whilst lifting her. She leant back against him, feeling the heat of his hands through her gown before he put her down again.

‘You smell wonderful’ he said, inhaling deeply.

‘I should do, I am wearing the finest Venetian perfume!’ she said.

‘No,’ he said intensely, ‘not the perfume. You.’

They had moved into a world of their own, having eyes for no one but each other, wrapped up in the scent and the sight and the feel of each other, and they did not leave it until the music stopped.

Elizabeth felt a sense of loss, and she struggled to regain that world of heightened senses. She resented the other guests for taking her husband away from her, as they exclaimed over his dancing and introduced him to more of the guests. And then she too was claimed, and her hand was sought by one of the gentleman, who begged her to dance with him. He was gay and good humoured and to her delight she recognised him as Giuseppe.

‘Ah! But how did you know?’ he asked.

‘I recognised your voice.’

‘Then I must disguise it if I am not to spoil the surprise for others. Have you recognised Sophia yet?’

‘No,’ said Elizabeth, looking round the ballroom. ‘Is she here?’

‘Yes. You must guess which one she is.’

Elizabeth made two false guesses before finally guessing correctly, for Sophia was wearing a full face mask. In the end, Elizabeth recognised her because she recognised Sophia’s gown as one of those she had seen in the dressing room, when she and Sophia had been choosing their clothes.

‘Are you enjoying yourselves?’ asked Sophia as she crossed the room to join them when the dance ended.

‘Very much,’ said Elizabeth.

‘It is different from your balls at home?’

‘Yes, it is entirely different.’

‘You do not wear masks, I think?’

‘No, we don’t, but it isn’t just the masks,’ said Elizabeth. ‘The clothes, the dances, the music, everything is different.’

‘Ah, yes, you have very stately dances in England,’ said Alfonse, joining them. ‘I know, I have been there. You turn up your noses and you look at no one, then you walk down the ballroom in silence and you turn round at the end.’

Elizabeth laughed at his description of the English dances.

‘In some private balls it may be so, but at an assembly it is very different, with a lot of lively country dances,’ she said. ‘There is a great deal of chatter and laughter, I assure you.’

‘An assembly? I do not believe I have ever been to an assembly.’

‘Then you must go,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Darcy, have you ever been to one of these assemblies?’ asked Giuseppe, as Darcy joined them.

‘I have.’

‘But he disliked it excessively,’ said Elizabeth teasingly.

Darcy raised his eyebrows and the others exclaimed, begging to know more.

‘Not excessively,’ said Darcy.

‘Confess it,’ Elizabeth said, laughing. ‘You thought it was insupportable!’

‘But how is this, if it is full of lively country dances?’ asked Sophia. ‘To me, it sounds fascinating.’

‘I had only just arrived in the neighbourhood and didn’t know anyone there,’ said Darcy.

‘And, of course, no one can ever be introduced in a ballroom!’ said Elizabeth.

Giuseppe laughed.

‘I can just imagine it,’ he said, looking at Darcy. ‘Darcy striding in with his nose in the air. You look horrified, my friend, but it is so! I have seen it.’ He turned to Elizabeth. ‘You have married a proud man, Elizabeth, from a noble line. He has ever been thus.’

‘But Elizabeth has made him more human. And now he must dance,’ said Sophia. ‘Darcy, you must partner me.’

‘And the lovely Elizabeth must be my partner,’ said Alfonse, bowing.

They took to the floor again. Elizabeth found herself becoming more used to the galliard, and she could soon dance it without having to watch the other dancers. It was an energetic dance, and the room resounded with the sound of the gentlemen landing on the floor as they leaped and twirled.

Other dances followed, all equally strange, and Elizabeth had to concentrate on the steps of each one in turn so that she was glad when it was finally time for supper.

As she was going into the supper room, she felt a frisson of some strange emotion and her eyes turned, almost against her will, to the shadows in the corner, where she saw the man in the strange mask again.

‘Who is that?’ she asked.

‘Who?’ asked Giuseppe.

Elizabeth turned back to the man in the strange mask, but he had gone.

‘Never mind,’ said Giuseppe, ‘you will see who he is at the unmasking after supper.’

Elizabeth enjoyed the food as she enjoyed the company. There was noise and good humour and laughter. The food was good and plentiful and the wine was very fine. The Italians took it seriously, pronouncing on the flavours and discussing the vineyards and even the grapes from which it was made.

Everyone ate, though those in full face masks found it more difficult than others. They lifted the corners of their masks carefully and ate sparingly, so as not to reveal their faces. There were many guesses as to the identity of the different guests, and by the end of supper, there was a buzz of excitement as it would soon be time for the unmasking.

They moved through into the ballroom, where the musicians played quietly, forming a background to the chatter, until, at the stroke of midnight, there was a loud chord from the violins and Sophia and Giuseppe demanded everyone’s attention.

‘You have all been very patient…’ began Sophia, raising her voice so that she would be heard above the hubbub.

Shushhhing sounds ran round the room and the hubbub quieted.

‘You have all been very patient,’ said Sophia again, speaking more quietly now that she did not have to compete with the general noise, ‘but now the moment has arrived. Signore e Signori, remove your masks!’

There was a rustle as the guests, as one, removed their masks to reveal smiling, excited faces. There were cries of surprise, as well as cries of recognition, with many voices saying they had already guessed the hidden identities, some truthfully, others less so.

Elizabeth was congratulated by those around her, and Darcy moved to her side, saying, ‘Did you enjoy it, your first masked ball?’