Dance With Me?

A continuation of this, in which the persistent Isolde finally manages to coax more like forces Haddock into dancing with her.

Storytime!
------------

    "I know this is being terribly forward, but will you dance with me in this set?"
The brunette was persistent, Haddock gave her that.  He had noticed her furtively eyeing him over the rim of her fan since the festivities had begun.  She wore a blood-red dress and a laughing face that Haddock knew he best not get too close to.  At first he pretended not to see her in hopes that she might grow disinterested and sidle off to a fellow who didn’t turn into an oversized wolf every full moon.  She hadn’t been dissuaded.  She succeeded in locking gazes with him, her pale blue eyes rooting him in place before he broke the spell by downing the remainder of his wine to hide the heat making its way to his face.  Haddock had made up his mind to leave before things went too far, blazing a path through the horde of bodies to exit the ballroom when the pale-eyed woman in scarlet stepped into his path.  Haddock gave a noticeable jolt then.

              The brunette cocked her head now.

“Well?”

              “I…ah…”

She made up his mind for him by taking his hand and leading him to the quadrille square.  As the dance began, Haddock and the woman joined the other side couples.  He was so rattled that he fumbled the first few steps.  The woman hid her laughter as she brushed past him.

              “Do you not dance, Mr.…Hmm.  You never told me your name.”

Neither did you, for that matter!

    “Mal—Malcolm Haddock.”

“Ah, well it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Haddock.  I’m Isolde Marlowe.  My family and I just came over from Bath.  It’s a lovely city, but Mama’s health really couldn’t take the hustle and bustle.  Have you lived here very long, Mr. Haddock?”

              “I was born here.”

“Really?  Then perhaps you might be able to show me the sights?  I’ve heard there’s a sinister old castle out on the moors that’s been around since Queen Elizabeth!  They say the family are a pack of well-to-do braggarts who only condescend to grace the public during Holidays.  They sound like a lot of eccentric recluses, if you ask me.”—she dropped her voice to a whisper as she moved up alongside him—"No one has outright said it, but I think there have been a few grisly murders there…Why are you blushing so, Mr. Haddock?”

              Haddock’s usually pale countenance was the color of Miss Marlowe’s dress.

“You…just described my family’s manor house.”

              Miss Marlowe looked stunned.

“Are you trying to be funny?”

              “No, Miss Marlowe,” Haddock replied.

“Oh dear.”

    Haddock thought he could use the lingering blow of Miss Marlowe’s faux pas to finally get away.  He stepped back from the quadrille square.

    “I should be going—"

Miss Marlowe was still recovering from her gaffe as Haddock bowed and once again made to escape.  That had been far too close.  His heart was hammering as if he had been in a fencing match.  That Miss Marlowe…Isolde…Something was different about her.  She had acted as if she had known.  How could she?  She said it herself that she’d just moved to the town.  Had there been a slight hint of laughter in her voice with that “oh dear”?  Haddock mechanically gathered his coat, hat, and cane from the manservant at the door as he pondered over the woman he had abandoned on the dance floor.  He waited in front of the dance hall while his carriage was being brought around, mind still buzzing.  A hand touched his arm.

    “Mr. Haddock?”

For the second time that night, Haddock jumped.  He whirled around to see Miss Marlowe standing behind him.  What are you doing here?

              “What are y—?"

“I wanted to apologize for what I said inside,” she blurted. “About your family being pompous.  And murdering each other.”

     She was twisting her gloved hands into a nervous mesh of fingers as she waited for his response.  A smile escaped onto Haddock’s face.

    “You’re forgiven, Miss Marlowe.”

The rattle of carriage wheels announced the arrival of Haddock’s departure.  Miss Marlowe smiled back.

    “Thank you, Mr. Haddock,” she said.

“Besides, you couldn’t possibly have known you were referring to my family’s home,” Haddock replied, then stopped short.  He studied her face, furrowed his beetle brows, and hopped into the carriage, mumbling a, “Good evening, Miss Marlowe” as a manservant shut the door.  That last look she had given him had reaffirmed suspicions and sent a jolt up his spine.  Somehow, she knew.

After much late night brainstorming, Haddock finally has a first name!  And Isolde has a last name too, but hers was easier to come up with.  I might make these Izzy and Mal pictures a series with little story snippets below the pics since I don't have time for TWO comics.


Haddock & Isolde©LadyPep

*Poses based on this picture (couple on the left) because when it comes to drawing people dancing I'm just like: h o w ? ?  hopefully my new Figma figures can help with that...