Chapter Text
Jon pulls his white gloves up to his elbows. He sighs to himself, adjusting his dress. “Sasha?”
The servant — older than him, but still barely marrying age — walks into his room, her naturally curly hair down and messy. It feels like a statement of their friendship, of her comfort around him, as Sasha tends to brush her hair until it’s flat in order to look more beautiful. “Yes, Miss?”
Jon ignores the fact that she says the wrong word, he’s gotten used to it. He spins to face her, his green dress twisting around him. “Do I look decent?”
“You do, my lady.” She smiles at him. “Your hair, though?”
“I was assuming you would do it.”
“Of course.” Sasha bows quickly, pulling out a chair and moving Jon to sit in it. She’s so good with hair, and Jon always trusts her with his. She runs her hand through it, pulling it up into a messy bun on the back of his head. “This may be too simple, but this isn’t a major event, is it? It’s just a public ball.”
“Whatever you make, I can summarise that it will look lovely.”
“You flatter me.”
“I would say nothing if I didn’t think it true.”
Sasha helps him up. “Would you like me to take you there? Or would you prefer someone older?”
Jon nods to her, a strand of his hair falling out of his bun. “It would mean much if you could accompany me.”
Sasha grins, her brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “Then shall we head out?”
“We shall.”
Sasha takes Jon’s arm. She leads him out of his house, out into the carriage. They sit on the seats, Sasha’s back relaxing slightly. “This is rather thrilling, isn’t it, Miss?”
“It is.” Jon is not a ‘miss’. Despite what many want him to believe. “I know the host. I could introduce you, if you’d like.”
“No, it’s fine, Miss. Don’t let me intrude on your night of enjoyment.”
Jon scoffs. “I implore you, Sasha, let me do one kind thing for you.”
“If you insist.”
They get to the ballroom, Sasha getting out first, before helping Jon out. She guides him up to the double door.
“Miss Juliet Sims.” He introduces himself. It irritates him, the fact that people must think of him as Juliet. He doesn’t remember when he began to think of himself as Jonathan, only that it fits him better than Juliet ever did. Oh, Lord free him from these thoughts. “And this is Miss Sasha James.
Sasha bows, and the man at the door opens it for the two. They are immediately greeted by the host of the public ball. Mr. Stoker. Very well dressed, as always.“Hello, Juliet! And who’s this?”
Sasha looks to Jon, who smiles at the man. “This is Sasha, my best servant. Sasha, this is —“
“Please, Juliet, let me introduce myself.” Mr. Stoker grabs Sasha’s hand, kissing the back of it. “Timothy Stoker. Enchanted.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” She laughs under her breath. “I apologize, I should have worn something better, or at the least done my hair.”
“Oh, shush. You look lovely, m’lady.” Mr. Stoker begins to walk through the growing crowd. “I’m sure you are expecting many rules from me, but no, I am not interested in such high-end balls. Dance with whomever you like. Enjoy yourself, my dears!”
Sasha smiles at the man, looking happier than Jon has ever seen her. “This is excellent!”
“It seems to be.”
She glances at Jon. “Anyone you would like to dance with?”
Jon shrugs. “Not particularly.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” She says, holding her arm out for Jon to grab. “Let’s find someone for you.”
Jon rolls his eyes, but lets Sasha walk him around. She is on a mission now, and it appears she will not stop until Jon gets a dance partner. But, alas, most have seemingly paired up by now. Jon sighs to himself. “Sasha, it doesn’t seem like —“
“Miss, there must be at least one person to dance with you! What about that man you were sure you loved? George?”
Ah, Georgie. She was like him, her soul somehow in the wrong body. He had believed he loved her, in order to fill that void in him that yearns to be a man, and the opposite was true for her. But it wasn’t real love, and both of them have come to terms with it. But Sasha does not, and will not, know why they left each other. “I was wrong about my feelings. I don’t know if he’s here, anyway.”
“Hmm.” Sasha looks mildly defeated. “Who…”
“Look, how about I go talk to…” he glances around, his eyes landing on a woman standing in the corner, all alone. Rather sad. “That woman.”
“Oh, Juliet.” Sasha shakes her head. “You must start to mingle with more young men. You are a very eligible woman, you know.”
He’s not. Eligible, that is, though the woman part is incorrect too. He may have inherited quite a bit of land from his parents’ passing, but that doesn’t mean men are tripping over their feet to marry him. “I’m going to talk to that woman, and you cannot stop me. Go have your fun, Sasha. Perhaps you can dance with Mr. Stoker.”
“Very well.”
Jon approaches the woman, look her up and down. She’s tall. Much taller than Jon. Her eyes are a sharp blue, quite a contrast to her wavy red hair, which is loosely tied back. Her dress is a soft blue, with a necklace of pearls. “Good evening, miss.”
She looks up, surprise written clearly on her face. “Me?”
“Yes.” Jon tries not to let his annoyance show. “You. Who might you be?”
“Mm, uh, Cathrine. Cathrine Blackwood.” She pauses. “…and you?”
Jon resists the intense urge to not say the name his father gave him. “Juliet. Sims.”
“Good to meet you.” Her smile is hesitant, but it’s there. “Do you often come to these balls? Mr. Stoker always has the best celebrations.”
“Not often, no. Though I may after this, as it all looks to be such fun.” Jon attempts to follow her lead in conversation. After another bout of silence, he lets the first question to come into his head exit his mouth. “Are you married yet?”
She looks surprised, a pink flush blooming in her cheeks. “Not yet. I, I have no plans to, either.”
“Ah.” Jon raises an eyebrow. “Have you ever read Sappho’s work?”
Cathrine stiffens. “You have the wrong idea. Although, if, if you…I won’t tell anyone. Because…” her voice trails off. “Don’t mind me. I apologize.”
Jon narrows his eyes. She was going to say something. What could she possibly have been going to say? Could she be like him? No, there’s no way. No point in wishing. Something is wrong with him, and he can’t expect to find kindred spirits. Other than Georgie, of course, and the two aren’t as kindred as they once were. “No, I apologize for bringing it up. Ah, are you going to dance with anyone?”
“I was planning to go get some fresh air. Would, would you like to join me?”
Jon is about to say no, but considers Sasha, and how she would grab his arm and pull him around, trying to get him to talk to more men. So, why not go with her? “Ah, that sounds…lovely.”
Once more, surprise flashes across Cathrine’s face. “Oh!” Her voice squeaks. “Well, then, I’ll show you this nice spot I know.”
It’s a calm spot, the balcony of Mr. Stoker’s home. The view is beautiful, a large fountain surrounded by flower beds and weeping willows. The dusk casts shadows over all of it, and the muffled music from inside makes it feel almost magical. The wind gently caresses his hair, pushing it in front of his eyes. He can hear the woman beside him let out a long sigh. “It’s so peaceful, out here.”
“It is.”
“Makes me feel like I exist.”
Jon, somehow, knows what she means. Out here, nothing matters. It doesn’t matter who people think he is, because it’s simply him and the world. Existing in silent harmony. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So.” Cathrine leans forward, looking off into the distance. “Your name’s Juliet, huh?”
“I suppose so.”
She glances over at him quickly, before looking away. “Do your parents like Shakespeare?”
“They did. I don’t know why Juliet, though, as she kills herself.”
Cathrine chuckles. “Yes, that’s like naming your child Ophelia.”
“Actually, I have met an Ophelia.”
“Really? Goodness.”
Cathrine is less nervous out here. Their conversation flows like a river, easily moving from one topic to another. Eventually, it moves, as always, to marriage.
“Will you ever marry?” Jon asks, going back to the question from earlier.
“I have to, don’t I?”
“I suppose.” He wishes it weren’t like that. He wants to marry someone, of course he does, but he must do so now because the moment he turns older than 30 he will be undesirable. But, if given the option, he wishes he could wed someone who he truly loves, no matter how old he is when he meets them. “Perhaps you don’t.”
“I would be scorned.”
“Perhaps. But, perhaps it’s worth it.”
“Stop saying perhaps, Juliet.”
Jon smiles. “Sorry.”
“Besides, don’t you have things that people would scorn you for? You must. Would you let everyone know about them?”
It feels like Cathrine is seeing directly into his soul when she says this. “No.”
“Exactly. So I must marry.” She takes another breath. “If I were so brave to ask, what…what would people scorn you for?”
Jon looks away. “I mustn’t say. That is between me and God.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone. If that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“You would. It’s a part of me that is broken, and I know not how to fix it. So I cannot speak of it.” He needs to stop talking to her. He’ll let something slip from his lips. Something he’ll regret.
“Hmm.” She moves to sit on a chair near the door they came from. “Could be no worse than mine.”
“We all have skeletons in our closets.”
“Skeletons, indeed.”
Jon spins around. That is…mildly concerning. “Cathrine? Have you…murdered someone?”
“No! No.” She stands up. “I just, well, I was agreeing with you. I don’t know.”
Jon lets out a small laugh, and Cathrine giggles to herself. “Juliet, could I have your address? I’d love to keep in touch.”
“Yes, of course.” He scribbles his address on a piece of parchment that was conveniently placed on the table next to the chair Cathrine is on, handing it over. “Now, I think I must go. I’ll see you, Cathrine.”
“Good night, Juliet!”