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Patrick O’Neal was very surprised to receive an invitation to an upcoming masked ball. He had just arrived in town. He wasn’t sure who would have sent it. It was perfectly clear that he had little time to waste.
According to the riding passengers, the road he had taken was not an easy one. It twisted and turned. The vegetation was thick and covered with a layer of mist. Rain for six weeks made the terrain treacherous.
The evening was dark. He had just crossed the wide, wide plains that spanned the western part of the state. It had started raining again and the air was bitterly cold. His teeth chattered as he walked along the path that led to the small town where the ball was to take place.
It looked like a small community. There were several large buildings, one of which he was sure were the church and the rectory. He was dressed in his best suit. He hadn’t had much time to get ready. There wasn’t any point in looking sloppy. The man he was going to meet might take such remarks the wrong way.
A chill had descended on the land immediately after sunset. The temperature had dropped immediately. It was clear that the first storm had hit. He pulled the collar of his jacket up higher. His hair was damp and he didn’t like the look of the weather.
A light drizzle fell on his head. He could not see the ground in front of him, but he could make out the darkness of the evening sky. The mist from the rain made it look like the evening was cloudy.
The host of the ball was not going to be a problem. He had been told that much. The host wouldn’t be hard to find, even though they hadn’t been introduced yet. Patrick was looking forward to meeting the host in person. His name was Tim.
He had heard he was a fine man. His name was associated with all sorts of pleasantries. He knew the host had many friends. There would be a huge turnout of people.
The invitations had specified that he was to attend in the late evening. He didn’t need the instructions, but he didn’t want to get caught unprepared. He had to be at the church on the grounds at a quarter to nine for the pre-ball. It was going to be well lit when he got there.
He walked a couple of blocks. When the lights from the church illuminated his path, he could hear the sounds of carriages in the distance. It took him almost half an hour to cross the county. He could hear the pounding of horses hooves against the mud and the sound of wooden wheels on the wooden planks. It was loud.
The sounds of the horses grew faster until he could hear them gone. He wondered what the noise was doing to the grazing from the other side of the church. It was at least a hundred yards away. The whole area was a piece of property owned by the Missionary Society. His footsteps were light. It was quite relaxing to be in a place with such a calming effect. Suddenly, he could hear a voice.
“Be careful, what you’re doing.” It came from behind him. It was somewhat low, as it seemed to be coming from above him. A moment later, he turned. He walked towards the sound.
“It’s perfectly all right, dear,” he heard again. Patrick was trying to find his bearings. He didn’t know where he was.
He was close enough to have heard the front door of the rectory. He could feel the sound of laughter coming from inside the place.
“It’s the man,” he heard once again. Patrick had to yell to be heard in the quiet air. He made his way towards the church.
With each step, the sound of the rain was increasing. He could feel the heavy drops hitting him. The dampness was a mixture of rain and snow. There was no snow in the forecast.
“I heard you say you wanted to see me.” He found himself speaking to a woman. It was the voice he had heard. He was close to the door.
“I understand,” Patrick said. The woman was standing in front of him. She was as tall as he was. Her hands were on her hips and she was staring at him with a look of interest.
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