Masque Quotes

“It is never of the least use to be snide to boys suffering from calf-love: they seem to take it as a challenge. The only thing to do is be polite and elder-sisterly, and hope that they recover quickly.”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“Of course he burst through the door. It cracked against the massive slabs that formed the stone walls, sending splinters flying, and I didn’t have to try very hard for the startled jump as Lord Pecus strode into the room.
I gave a maidenly shriek, and in a moment of truly inspired acting, snatched my dressing gown from the bed to my chest and assumed pose #35, Maidenly Horror. Hands clasped below the breasts and clutching my dressing gown as if to protect girlish modesty, eyes wide- maybe finishing school had been useful for something after all. I thought I might have gone too far, but Lord Pecus, who at my shriek had stopped two strides into the room with a look of horror on his mask, hastily turned his face to the wall. He tried to utter a disjointed apology but I threw one of the pot-pourri bowls at him, and it smashed satisfyingly on the wall, cutting off the attempt.”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“He grinned at Lord Pecus and remarked: “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you she’s only a poor female. That’s where the conversation usually goes from there. I’m sorry to say I know it from experience.”
“I was just getting to that bit,” I told them, looking up demurely through my eyelashes. “Of course, I feel bound to point out that my bashful nature wouldn’t allow me to do anything so bold as swindle you. You being so big and frightening, you know.”
Lord Pecus looked startled. “Pardon?”
Melchior grinned a little wider. “She can keep it up for days until you’re convinced that she’s misguided but sweet and that you’ve been a beast to her, and then she pinches your best invisibility spell and makes off with your fiancée.”
“She wasn’t your fiancée then,” I pointed out primly. “Besides, if anyone was ‘made off’ with, Annabel made off with me. I was merely an innocent bystander who got caught up in the general confusion.”
“I suppose my invisibility spell got caught up in the confusion as well?”
“How did you guess?” I marvelled. “Your grasp of the matter is really commendable, Melchior!”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“Lord Pecus looked speculative. “Would you marry me as I am?”
“Oh yes!” I said encouragingly. “Do go on.”
“Will you marry me, Isabella?”
I shook my head.
“No, my lord.” He looked quizzical, though not discouraged, so I explained. “You’re asking the wrong question again.”
He took a meditative sip of port. “Do you know how to break the curse?”
“I believe so. There, you see how much easier things are when you ask the right questions!”
“I suppose it would be too much to ask of you to tell me how to do so?”
“That’s another of the things I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you,” I said regretfully. “I’m terribly sorry, Alexander; but I’m afraid you’re going to have to work it out on your own.”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“I sighed. “Very well, if that is too difficult, show me all communications the day the Pecus Curse took effect.”
The Book paused, its writing fading in and out uncertainly. At length, a sentence formed.
I don’t think that’s allowed.
“What do you mean, it’s not allowed!”
You’re concerned in breaking the curse, the Book scrawled. It would be considered cheating. This is outside my parameters.
“I am most certainly not concerned in breaking the curse!” I told the book firmly. “It has nothing in the world to do with me. Lord Pecus can look after himself.”
Lord Pecus seems to have chosen you to break it, smugly said the Book. That means you’re not allowed any help. You wouldn’t want to cheat, would you?
“Of course I would!” I said. “What a ridiculous question! I quite often cheat, thank you very much; sometimes it’s the only way to get things done. For example: how may I break a curse if I’m not given any information?”
It’s meant to be hard, inked the Book, sulky again. That’s the way it is. All the True Love curses are like that.
“I utterly refuse to be involved in anything so trite as a True Love Curse! And if you dare to tell me that ‘Lord Pecus seems to have involved me’, I shall begin ripping your pages out!”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“I distinctly saw a tremor of laughter shake him, but he said: “Then I feel no scruple in adding that if you refuse my dinner invitation again, you’ll be carried down, nightdress or no.”
I gave a tiny sigh. “May I ask why?”
“It’s . . . necessary,” he said, after a brief pause. “I’m sorry to insist, but I do insist.”
“Very well,” I said consideringly. “I have a stipulation, however.”
“Which is?”
“You dine with me unmasked.”
There was a short silence, then Lord Pecus took in a slow breath. “Do you know what you’re asking?”
I levelled a steady gaze at him. “I believe so. I may add that I think it only fair in the light of what you are asking, my lord.”
He gave the low, rumbling chuckle that I liked. “I think we will get along very well, Lady Isabella.”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“I was sitting at the dressing table, brushing out my hair, when a loud, abrupt tattoo was pounded on my door. I smiled at myself in the mirror, and rose from the low stool. My bowl of pot-pourri was to hand: I was ready.
“Who is it?” I called out.
“Dinner is ready,” said Lord Pecus’ voice. It sounded as though he were speaking through clenched teeth. “You have five minutes.”
“I’m not coming down,” I retorted. “Go away!”
“Lady Farrah, if you’re not out of your room in the next few minutes, I’ll fetch you out.”
I winced, but it had to be said. “You wouldn’t dare!”
The puerility of it was embarrassing. Fortunately, Lord Pecus was too annoyed to notice. “Two minutes, Lady Farrah!”
“I absolutely refuse to come out!”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“it was hard to feel old with that delightful sense of mischief running in my veins.”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“Does he mean to marry you, Belle?”
I considered deflecting the question, but it has always been difficult to deflect anything in the face of Susan’s grey gaze.
“I believe so. Of course, I shan’t do anything of the sort; the man dips biscuits in his tea. Besides, Papa needs me.”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque