Page 4 of Lord of the Hollow Court
"I can hear the guests," Katrina said, smiling back at her mother. "Perhaps we should make our entrance."
“Shall we, girls? Tonight is going to be a wondrous night.” She glanced back at Katty. “You look so lovely, too, Katty. Perhaps there will be some happy news for you as well tonight.”
Or life-altering disappointment. Katty pasted a pleasant expression onto her face and followed them out.
Mrs. de Vries descended the stairs first, smiling graciously at everyone around her. Katrina would make an entrance behind her, stunning in her mint and black lace gown. Katty would be a pink shadow, dwarfed by her own dress's gargantuan puffed sleeves. How was she to find a husband when everyone's eyes were always on Katrina de Vries?
As they descended the staircase together, eager faces framed by geometric muttonchops looked upward and basked in the sight that was Katrina de Vries. Katty recognized a pair of admirers among them: the amiable schoolmaster Ichabod Crenwell, and that troublemaker Abraham van Djik. Not only did Katrina have many admirers to Katty's aught, but they seemed to cover the range of human temperaments. The de Vries heir could choose a husband of whatever demeanor suited her best.
As Katty belatedly set foot on the ground floor of the grand house, one thing was clear to her. This may have been Mr. and Mrs. de Vries's party, but the guests all belonged to Katrina.
"Why are you going about with such a sour face?" a voice hissed in Katty’s ear. “You'll never be asked to dance if you stand there looking sour as a lemon. And stop slouching! You look as though you have no neck.”
At the same moment her stomach dropped, Katty blanched, anxious that anyone around them overheard. Since there were no eyes upon her—of course—she scowled at the speaker: her mother. If Katty was a lemon, her mother was the entire orchard.
"Don't make such faces," her mother said in her heavy Dutch accent. "You must look pretty if you're going to get a husband tonight."
Katty frowned harder, hoping it would stick as her mother had so often threatened.
Katty, make friends with the de Vries girl.
Katty, pinch your cheeks so you have more color like the de Vries girl.
Katty, follow the de Vries girl so you can collect her scraps.
Just being within earshot of her mother made Katty itch.
"I said straighten up," her mother demanded, though Katty's corset was so tight she couldn't have slouched if she wanted. "And don't be so proud. I have it on good authority that girl will be getting engaged tonight. Whomever she doesn't pick should be more than happy to find you standing behind her."
Katty, marry whomever the de Vries girl rejects.
"Yes, mama," she said miserably. If her stupid sister hadn't married a landowner near Ithaca, the expectations wouldn't be so high for Katty. Her mother knocked against the whalebone of Katty's fashionable torture device, urging her to follow Katrina de Vries as she led her admirers into the next room. She did not once look behind her to see what had become of Katty.
She didn't have to. Katty always followed, always did what she was told.
When the dancing began, Katrina was the first to be asked. Ichabod Crenwell twirled and made handsome figures with her, then the wicked Abe whom everyone called Bones. Katrina was so spoiled by her father, he did nothing but raise his glass appreciatively as they danced together. They were a pretty couple to be sure, but anyone with sense could see Bones was no prize.
Katty knew all of this because she stood on the side of the room. Her mother was right. No one had asked her to dance.
As an intolerably long second dance ended, the third song began, a lively country jig. Once again, the rapscallion Bones asked Katrina to dance.
All at once, the fans flew up and whispers began. A dismayed Ichabod retired to the side of the room to procure a drink, looking as though he'd had every hope lanced out him.
After drawing a deep breath, Katty shifted around the room, winding through gossip and tales of the haunted woods of Sleepy Hollow, all relayed with equal credence. Katty fought the urge to roll her eyes and pressed on.
By the time she made it to the punch, Ichabod was gone, ensconced by the older ladies fluttering their fans. That was the thing about Ichabod: as he'd traveled from Connecticut, he'd picked up every bit of gossip along the way, including the juiciest bits to be had on the residents of Sleepy Hollow. Many of the married ladies adored him for it, and he was welcome wherever he went.
He wouldn't be so bad, Katty thought. It had never once been suggested to her that she marry for love, so amiability—or even tolerability—seemed the most she could hope for in a partner. She squeezed behind a man laughing with a cigar in his hand, passed a girl practically crying over her ill-fitting shoes—and found Ichabod had gone again.
So it was the entirety of the night: Ichabod was always a few steps ahead of her, and Katty hopelessly behind. After an hour or so of chasing him and losing him—then spotting him on the dance floor with someone, then losing him to the bystanders again—she let out a hiss of frustration and stomped her foot. This was ludicrous. Katty took herself outside to get some air.
The moment she did so, she knew it was a mistake. There, beside the stone fountain in the de Vries' expansive back patio, was Ichabod. With Katrina. Alone.
Katty hid behind an ornate stone planter.
"—would make me the happiest of men," Ichabod declared, falling to one knee just as Katty ducked behind perky cinnamon chrysanthemums that nearly matched her hair.
"Oh, my," Katrina said, voice full of graciousness. Katty's veins filled with frigid water; she was so sure Katrina leaned toward Bones! Hadn't she declared the rogue "rather handsome" just the other day?
