Over the Misty Mountains Read Free

woods surrounding Williamsburg hunting the elusive deer, the coon, and the possum than he had on polished dance floors. Still, his mother had insisted, saying, “It’s your duty to go, Josh. There won’t be enough young men there, and the young ladies will be wanting for partners.”
    Josh had laughed at her, but then had obeyed by going to the best tailor in the city and being fitted with a fine suit. Now, an hour before the dance, he was standing before the full-sized mirror, admiring himself and feeling rather like a fool. “I never did care much for fancy clothes,” he murmured as he studied his reflection in the mirror .
    The suit coat was made of faille—a light, soft, ribbed fabric woven in silk—with light and dark green stripes, and was worn open. Under the coat he wore a white silk shirt with ruffles at the chest and at the wrists. The waistcoat was short, single-breasted, tan in color with a trim of dark green, and had silver buttons down the front. He had on white satin breeches that fastened just below the knee, white-and-green-striped stockings, and low-heeled black shoes with silver buckles. He was carrying a pair of white gloves in his hand .
    Finally shrugging, he said with a half grin that turned one corner of his lip upward in a peculiar manner, “At least I won’t be sniffing snuff out of a silver box. I draw the line at that!”
    Wheeling swiftly, he left the room, his stride smooth and even. He moved more easily than most men, the result of long walks in the forest. Going down the stairs, he met his mother and laughed when her eyes widened. “Well, what do you think, Mother?”
    “You look beautiful!”
    “Women are supposed to look beautiful! I’m supposed to look handsome!”
    James Spencer emerged from the study and made his way down the hall. “Well, that suit cost enough. You should look both beautiful and handsome. Come along. Let’s go. You better let me drive. I wouldn’t want you to spoil those white gloves with anything as crude as the lines of a buggy.”
    They arrived at the governor’s house, which was illuminated with what seemed to be hundreds of lanterns, and Josh said, “Some house the governor’s got here! It looks like a Greek temple.” He studied the portico of Doric columns that outlined the huge building on three sides, noted the balustrade on top, and shook his head. “His father would’ve been happy in a log cabin.”
    “Times are changing.” James Spencer grinned. “But I agree with you. I find it a bit ostentatious myself.”
    Stepping inside, they heard the sounds of violins, dulcimers, and a clavichord filling the house with music .
    The foyer was a large, well-lit room with a domed ceiling and a large chandelier of cut glass. On each side of the front door was a floor-length window covered with white silk damask, faintly caressing the highly polished white marble. A sky of light blue, with fluffy white clouds floated overhead, and the illusion carried on down the walls with trees and the landscape of an old English garden .
    At the far end of the foyer, a pair of great oak doors opened onto a large ballroom. The ballroom had a very ornate domed ceiling made of gilded tinplates depicting scenes of angels and other flying cherubs. The walls were white, broken up by floor-length windows alternating with long gilded mirrors that reflected the candlelight of silver wall sconces next to each one. Queen Anne walnut chairs with crimson silk damask lined the walls of the room. Doors to the right of the ballroom led to a formal dining room, where many tables were laden with refreshments. At the back of the ballroom French doors led to a garden filled with fountains, statues, and many beautiful rose bushes .
    The ballroom was an array of swirling colors—reds, yellows, greens, blues—as the ladies’ evening gowns swished by in step to the soft music. Their jewelry glittered, catching the reflection of the chandeliers overhead. Jehoshaphat enjoyed the dances he