amy dorrit and cinderella dancing through the night
Huh. Soooooo, out of the blue my writing muse demanded I write a ficlet for Little Dorrit, a sequel to Cinderella's Shoe as a matter of fact. *blinks curiously* Now I feel like I need to go re-watch the BBC miniseries and reread the book. *wanders off*
~~~
The Prince’s Partner
He was at a party, the room bright and cheery, and music swirling about the dancers. Everything and everyone appeared fuzzy, colors blending and mixing. The gentleman wandered amongst the dancers, passing by as though invisible to them. Wandering…seeking for something he could not identify, aware only of the bitter loneliness surrounding him like a cloak and of the aching in his heart.
Blindly at times he reached out and, for a short period, followed the dance with a partner. Some ladies giggled flirtatiously, while others mocked him with words so much like his mother’s. So he let go, falling back into his isolated roaming.
Then from somewhere a small hand touched his arm. Without hesitation, with knowledge he could not explain, he extended his hand. Warmth spread through him as the little hand settled into his, fitting perfectly - as though they belonged together.
He and his partner moved across the floor in a dance (or perhaps it turned into seven). Despite no words passing between them, and his inability to make out the lady’s face, he was aware of her regard: admiration, acceptance, love. He sensed her happy smile, the encouraging press of her hand. And the loneliness which had plagued him for so long vanished, and his weary heart soared with joy.
“Will you do me the honor-” he broke off with a cry of dismay as his partner suddenly slipped from his grasp like a phantom, his pleas for her to wait met only with silence.
~~~
Arthur rested his brow against the window pane as the sun poured into his room. The sensation of warmth from his dream lingered over him, his heart still beating fast at the short-lived happiness he had experienced. His tired eyes gazed into space, unmindful of the people hurrying through the street below.
Perhaps it was Pet who danced with me, he dared to hope, a smile tugging on the corners off his mouth.
It was not until he sat down to breakfast that a memory from his dream came back to him: his dance partner had had dark hair.
THE END
~~~
The Prince’s Partner
He was at a party, the room bright and cheery, and music swirling about the dancers. Everything and everyone appeared fuzzy, colors blending and mixing. The gentleman wandered amongst the dancers, passing by as though invisible to them. Wandering…seeking for something he could not identify, aware only of the bitter loneliness surrounding him like a cloak and of the aching in his heart.
Blindly at times he reached out and, for a short period, followed the dance with a partner. Some ladies giggled flirtatiously, while others mocked him with words so much like his mother’s. So he let go, falling back into his isolated roaming.
Then from somewhere a small hand touched his arm. Without hesitation, with knowledge he could not explain, he extended his hand. Warmth spread through him as the little hand settled into his, fitting perfectly - as though they belonged together.
He and his partner moved across the floor in a dance (or perhaps it turned into seven). Despite no words passing between them, and his inability to make out the lady’s face, he was aware of her regard: admiration, acceptance, love. He sensed her happy smile, the encouraging press of her hand. And the loneliness which had plagued him for so long vanished, and his weary heart soared with joy.
“Will you do me the honor-” he broke off with a cry of dismay as his partner suddenly slipped from his grasp like a phantom, his pleas for her to wait met only with silence.
~~~
Arthur rested his brow against the window pane as the sun poured into his room. The sensation of warmth from his dream lingered over him, his heart still beating fast at the short-lived happiness he had experienced. His tired eyes gazed into space, unmindful of the people hurrying through the street below.
Perhaps it was Pet who danced with me, he dared to hope, a smile tugging on the corners off his mouth.
It was not until he sat down to breakfast that a memory from his dream came back to him: his dance partner had had dark hair.
THE END