The Love Potion 5 - 6

Ballroom dancing

5 The Plan:

Dazzling crystal chandeliers lit the pristine marble floor of the ballroom from grand high ceilings. The orchestra was playing splendidly, their music weaving through the gloriously dressed guests.

First, she had to find her target.

Before Leticia found her choice, Iris would present hers.

Get the potion dissolved in some wine.

Next, greet target with drinks in hand. Offer the gentleman a drink and hand him the dosed wine.

Make a toast so that he would drink looking into her eyes.

And when the man is well under the effects of the potion, lead him to one of the retiring rooms prepared for the attendees and finalise the deal.

Now, where was he…?

Iris stood in the doors leading into the ballroom searching around the large room.

Yes, there he was!

As Matthias had described, her target was on older gentleman. He was speaking to other gentlemen of his calibre quite a-ways from the entrance.

Earl Nicholas Selma.

He served in the royal court and was forty-five years of age. Since he had been parted from his wife some twenty years ago, there has been no fiancée or rumours of a mistress. He had a nice personality, dressed well and neatly, he had no bad rumours surrounding him or heavy debts. Yet, he was still single (Zuben: Is he interested in women?)

The young ladies were not attracted to his sober appearance because, he wasn’t rich or handsome, and neither did he have outstanding abilities.

At that moment, there were no young ladies in light coloured dresses near him.

But Matthias had told her he was looking for a wife.

‘If you chose the Earl Selma, he would probably agree with the conditions you seek.’ Matthias had told her.  (Zuben: If it works, that is)

If he was gentle, he probably would not look down on Iris’ lace making work. Rather than thinking of how he would provide for his young wife after his passing, her work will be welcome as an additional source of income.

And there was the added benefit of having the backing of the Marquis Reinfeldt.

Iris agreed with Matthias that he would be a good match.

Now she knew where he was, she had to get a glass of wine…

Iris abandoned her hesitancy and guilt, with her target gentleman in her sights, the next thing was to carry out her plan. She glanced in direction of Leticia; she was smiling and speaking to her popular gentlemen admirers.

She needed the plan to succeed!

With this in mind, she headed for the buffet table where a scrumptious feast and drinks was laid out for guests to enjoy at their leisure. On her way, she bumped into Lady Francesca Braunfels, daughter of the Duke of Braunfels.

‘Lady Iris, how lovely to see you here tonight!’

‘Lady Francesca!’

‘I’m so happy, I wanted to see you.’ Lady Francesca said with a happy smile. Iris instantly returned it. Lady Francesca gently spread her skirts of her pale blue dress.

‘Take a look at my dress; see the delicate flower patterned filet lace? Lovely, isn’t it?’ Francesca said as she twirled around.

‘When the dress was presented to me, I was thrilled with it. I asked the tailor who had created such delicate lace work, and I was told it was you, Lady Iris, who made it. How positively delightful, I thought.’

Lady Francesca’s exuberance made Iris smile,

‘Thank you Lady Francesca, I am happy to have assisted in the creation of your lovely dress.’

Just then, another lady called upon Iris, asking her to make lace for her. Iris agreed exchanged pleasantries and moved along.

Just as she continued onward, she was hailed again,

‘Lady Iris, it has been a while.’

‘It has been a while, Duchess Neuendorf.’

‘I heard you have been busy lately, but might I request that you join us for our next garden party? My daughter would very much like to meet you.’

Why would the ten year old young Lady Neuendorf want to meet her?

The Duchess gave a shy smile and said, ‘My daughter loves embroidery and lace, and once she was told about you. She has always wanted to meet you, a Lady who creates such beautiful lace.’

‘Ah, I am honoured she thinks of me so. I would love to meet her as well.’ Iris replied graciously, touched by the sentiment. Iris and the Duchess discussed the details of the party. The Duchess had tremendous influence in Berghausen society, so after their discussion Iris was greeted and introduced to many other society ladies. Many of them talked about lady like things, some complimented Iris’ skilled lace work. It seemed her creations were evaluated higher than she had imagined.

A mere dress. (Zuben: So begins Japanese brand over-thinking)

Whether one has a lovely face or not, one impression could change simply on the choice of dress.

It could become a fine weapon.

Seeing and hearing her work be admired and praised made Iris feel proud and somewhat encouraged.

Her smile widened with pleasure.

On the other hand, many noble gentlemen saw a woman trying to live by their own power as a negative thing. Iris was looked over with contempt, scoffed at, and told she was not lovely because she was clever. She was ridiculed at being inferior to Leticia.

Her sister thought the same.

Neither Leticia nor her gentlemen admirers ever acknowledged the path she had chosen.

Even if they had mistresses, and engaged in immature raucous behaviour, they still wanted wives who were cookie-cutter and obedient. But Iris could not live like that.

She did not want to.

Since, she could not change the way Leticia viewed life, Iris had to succeed in her plan this night, to live a peaceful life.

She took a seat in an unoccupied alcove and sighed as she looked about the party,

‘It is rather lively…’ she said to herself.

As expected of a ball sponsored the King. The size of the hall, the calibre of guests and their fashion, everything was a set apart from a party held by an everyday noble.

As she observed the unique gaiety she had not witnessed in a year, the orchestra began a new piece, signalling the beginning of dancing. The gentlemen escorted their lady to the dance floor. As the partners began their turn, the glittering of jewels nearly rivalled the chandeliers that illuminated them.

Amongst them was an especially pretty young lady dancing with a very handsome man in the middle of the glittering throng; Princess Rosemary Berghausen. She was the fifth Princess and had the distinctive silver hair of the Berghausen royal line. Her partner who has the same hair colour was His Majesty, King Ernest of Berghausen.

Although, Iris had not been to a Royal ball for a year, she remembered his face clearly.

He was infamous as a man who was not good with women, and he was hesitant to get married and secure the line of succession.

When she heard the rumour for the first time, Iris thought it was a bit strange. Ernest was twenty nine and he had four older sisters who had been married off. So, he had grown up surrounded by women, there shouldn’t be any reason why he wasn’t good with women or liked women (Zuben: Maybe they were bitches?)

But his dislike or aversion was to the extent that he refused any marriage arrangements. As such, the young pastel dressed ladies did not look to him as a potential partner anymore. And the powers that be had also given up on a direct line of succession; Rosemary’s first child will inherit the crown. Although, they bemoaned the fact that there would not be a child born from Ernest directly as he was said to be quite excellent amongst the successive kings, but there was nothing to be done. (Zuben: You would think people would learn that excellent people do not necessarily give birth to excellent children)

At this moment, Iris could not feel sorry for the King as his personal affairs being gossiped about.

Earl Selma. If she did not succeed in giving him this love potion tonight, she would have to deal with the humiliation of Leticia’s chosen. With a heavy sigh, she brushed her hand against the front of her dress over the pocket the bottle was hidden in,

‘Is that you, Lady Iris?’ a familiar voice called. Iris turned and her expression clouded instantly.

‘Lord Damian…’ she greeted as the dark emotions seeped up and spread in her heart.

♔

6 Failure:

‘It’s been a long time since I have seen you, have you been well?’ he asked in a cordial tone. He moved closer to her seat at the wall almost boxing her in. Iris fidgeted with her dress, seriously thinking of how to escape this situation.

‘I have been well. You also look well, Lord Damian.’ She replied.

But, she could not run. She has a mission she absolutely must accomplish this night.

So she gave Lord Damian a polite smile.

Even though, a year had passed, just the sight of him made a sharp pain run through her chest.

Iris held her hands together to bolster herself to endure his presence.

‘Is it alright for you to be here, Lady Iris? The dancing has begun.’

If she was looking for a potential man, she could not be a wallflower hiding in a corner; she had to be actively present so that a gentleman could ask for a dance.

Iris smiled and tried to be elegant in her reply, ‘I am aware, but is it alright for you, Lord Damian? There must be very many lovely ladies who are waiting for you to ask them to dance.’

‘I don’t intend on asking any lady to dance right now... Lady Iris, I wish to apologise to you.’

His tone was very serious and Damian bowed his head; he probably had come to realise that he had been unfair to Iris in the past. But for Iris, the words were a poor salve to the scar in her heart,

‘Are you speaking of the past? It’s alright, please do not mind.’

‘So kind; you remain my precious friend.’ he said looking a little relieved. But Iris’ smile had a hidden bitterness - Lord Damien’s sincerity was also cruel. (Zuben: I think is sounds more like they are self-centred and tactless but know how to market it as innocence or sincerity)

A year and a half ago,

Iris was 18. She became acquainted with Damian through a mutual acquaintance. He was the cherished son of the Marquis de Dinger.

In those days (Zuben: so very long ago), Iris had been still hopeful for a marriage match.

As they spoke, Iris began to like Damian; he was rather serious and was a little clumsy, but that only made him more endearing.

He did not look down at her lace work nor compared her to Leticia.

Being next to Damian was comfortable, and brought peace to Iris’ heart which had been in turmoil since childhood.

Damian also seemed to like Iris to the extent that there was indication that he would like to marry her. Even though theirs was not a passionate affair, she had thought they would be happy together.

She remembered the moment Damian proposed to her, she had been filled with a modest happiness.

But that happiness collapsed rapidly.

During a ball held in the Royal castle that year, Iris introduced Damian to Leticia, and he fell in love with her in that instant. Moreover, because of a trivial quarrel the night before, Leticia had cried and her eyes had still been red. Leticia confessed under no duress that it was because of an argument with Iris that her eyes were red.

Damian’s face at that moment, Iris would never forget. His cheeks had been flushed; his eyes emitted a sweet heat, even his tone of voice carried excitement.

But he turned to Iris with a look full of scorn.

Once again, Leticia had taken someone from her.

At that instant, she realised everything and Damian bowed to her with an aggrieved expression.

‘I’m so sorry Lady Iris. I seem to have fallen in love with the Countess. I am not qualified to marry you any longer.’

He was as sincere and foolish man.

Leticia was already married to Matthias. If he had thought carefully, he could have used Iris to get closer to Leticia. After realising, that his love was futile, he quietly retired.

But why?! Why was it always Leticia?

It would be easy to rain curses on her sister, but for Iris, it would fill her with more misery.

To protect the little pride she had, Iris decided to give up and grow up. Yet, unable to endure the sorrow, she slipped out of the party and found a quiet gazebo to hide and cry. She threw away her hair accessories and shoes. No matter how well she dressed, she could never compete with Leticia. On that day, Iris gave up on marriage.

But Leticia did not know anything.

Iris’ sorrow.

Damian’s love.

How she unintentionally robbed her sister of happiness.

Ignorant Leticia dancing in the arms of her loving husband.

Let’s put it away, she decided.

It was already over a year ago. If she did not try to forget it, she could not move on. Damian who had proposed to Iris had become another friend. She looked around her,

‘Tonight, I have to be resolute…’ she said firmly to herself.

Her future was hanging on a balance.

She clenched her fist, and went up to the drinks table. Because most of the guests were dancing or engrossed in conversation, few people were at the buffet tables. Still, she looked about to ensure she was not noticed, and pulled out the vial from her secret pocket.

The time was now.

She pulled out the stopper and dropped one pill into a glass of red wine. She replaced the stopper and put the vial away, and stared at the love potion dissolving into the wine.

It bubbled and fizzed in the wine giving off a rich sweet aroma. She has never used such a thing before in her life, so she thought it was rather strange.

Once the pill dissolved, she will carry out her plan.

She had bathed, and perfumed herself and had chosen to wear an easily detachable corset. (Zuben: you are expected to bathe when you go out to a gathering, dear) Tonight, she was willing to exchange her chastity for peace of mind.

Now was not the time to let the fear take over. While the love potion dissolved, Iris closed her eyes and pushed down the fear.

‘Pardon me,’ a sweet voice said beside her.

‘Eh…?’ She opened her eyes in surprise as beautiful pale hands appeared in her view and picked the two glasses in front of her. One was her wine and the other was the dosed wine for Nicholas Selma,

‘Here you are, elder brother.’

‘Thank you, Rosemary.’

‘Is that what you wanted?’

‘Yes, I had a hankering for some red wine tonight.’

She realised that the gentle fairy like voice was of Princess Rosemary, and the low alluring one was Ernest, his Majesty the King. But reason soon returned to Iris, Rosemary had taken her chosen wine!

Iris’ violet eyes widened in panic,

‘Please wait, that wine is-!’

But it was too late. Ernest threw back the wine in one go, it seemed he had gotten thirsty after dancing (Zuben: Shoulda started with water). He drank the wine to the last drop, and put the glass down turning to look strangely at Iris who stood there blankly.

‘Is something wrong? Was the wine yours?’ he asked

‘Ah..um, that…’ wine was the love potion and the King just drank it! If she told the truth, her life would end right there. Even Matthias would be arrested.

What should she do…?

If that love potion was as powerful as Matthias claimed, would it be effective on King Ernest who did not like women? Why was she still here?

With a pale face as though all the blood had drained from her, Iris slowly stepped away from Ernest. Ernest on the other hand, handed his empty glass to Rosemary, and went after Iris, whose movements were suspicious.

‘Hm. Dark hair and violet eyes? Are you the daughter of the former Marquis Reinfeldt?’

‘Y-yes, I am.’

‘Your name?’

‘Iris Reinfeldt, your Majesty.’

‘Is that so…?’ he replied. The way he said that line made chills run down Iris’ spine. Fear filled her mind and she took another step back. At that moment, Ernest closed the distance in a step and dropped on one knee to the marble floor.

He looked up at her with golden eyes that looked ablaze, and held his large hand out to Iris,

‘Lady Iris Reinfeldt, will you marry me?’

What is this?!

She has done a terrible thing. (Zuben: It has become a serious thing!)

The love potion has been administered to the wrong person, and it was more powerful that she had imagined.

Iris was shaken. (Zuben: and well stirred)

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