were beginning to thin out a little, and the older guests had begun to leave. Her parents stood near the entrance to the ballroom saying good night to them, and Eleanor’s table filled rapidly with old classmates and childhood friends. They looked at Alex like he was someone’s parent, although he was only thirty-two. But they rapidly discovered that he was good company, and he teased several of them and made them laugh, telling them stories about debutante balls he’d been to where everything went wrong, and one where the debutante got so drunk, no one could find her. She was under a table, sound asleep. Eleanor’s friends loved the story, and the way he told it, and after supper he claimed his last dance with her. He felt like an old friend by then.
“Thank you for being nice to my friends, and not treating them like silly children.” He had treated them all like amusing adults.
“I’m a silly child myself sometimes,” he said, smiling at her. “Even if I seem very grown up to them. I remember how annoying it was to be dismissed as an idiot at their age, by people the age I am now. I was barely older than they are. I was twenty-one when I went to war. That makes you grow up pretty quickly,” he said quietly.
“My father wanted to volunteer. He was forty-one when America got into it. My mother didn’t want him to go, and he was too old to fight anyway. They gave him a desk job and he never went to Europe. I think he was disappointed not to go.”
“It was a nasty fight. I was in France for a year. I was an officer in the infantry. It was ugly. I went as a boy, and came back a man,” he said with the memory of it in his eyes. And then their dance came to an end. “I had a lovely time with you, Miss Deveraux,” he said, smiling at her again. “And I hope you thoroughly enjoy your first season.” He bowed and she laughed.
“I’m sure I will. I hope we meet at another party sometime,” she said, and he didn’t answer, but had been thinking the same thing. He left her then, and she went off with her friends. He thanked her parents for a wonderful evening, and left, surprised by what a good time he’d had. He hadn’t had so much fun in years. He couldn’t remember the last debutante ball he’d been to.
The party went on long after Alex Allen had left. Eleanor danced until she felt like she couldn’t anymore. There was still a good sized crowd of very young people when breakfast was served at six in the morning. The young men had had a lot to drink by then, and the substantial breakfast did them good. Then finally, at nearly seven A.M., the ball was over. The band had stopped playing, the servants still at their posts looked exhausted. Eleanor’s parents had gone to bed around two in the morning, and were content to let the young people take over. There had been no problems or awkward incidents. Everyone was well behaved. Some of the older guests were a little less so and drank too much, but they’d gone home.
When Eleanor finally walked up the grand staircase after the last guest left, she found Wilson waiting for her in her bedroom to help her undress. She had been dozing in a chair, and woke up the minute she heard Eleanor come in.
“Well, how was it?” she asked, with eyes full of expectation and delight for Eleanor. “Did you dance all night?”
“Yes, I did.” Eleanor smiled sleepily, and held her arms out so Wilson could take off her dress, and then she gently lifted the headpiece off Eleanor’s head. “It was perfect,” she said happily, her eyes still dancing with the thrill of the magical evening. “I had the best night of my life,” she said, kissed Wilson’s cheek, and climbed into bed. Before Wilson could turn off the lights, or leave the room to hang up the dress, Eleanor was sound asleep. It had been an important rite of passage for her, not just a party. Her life as an adult, and a woman, had begun. Wilson smiled, thinking about it, as she quietly closed the door. And as beautiful as Eleanor was, Wilson was sure she’d be married soon. That was the purpose of it after all, wasn’t