After John had gone Sir George's wrath began to gather, and Dorothy was not permitted to depart from the Hall for even a walk upon the terrace, nor could she leave her own apartments save when the queen requested her presence.
A few days after my departure from Haddon, Sir George sent Dawson out through the adjoining country to invite the nobility and gentry to a grand ball to be given at the Hall in honor of Queen Elizabeth. Queen Mary had been sent a prisoner to Chatsworth.
Tom Shaw, the most famous piper of his times, and a choice company of musicians to play with him were hired for the occasion, and, in short, the event was so glorious that its wonders have been sung in minstrelsy throughout Derbyshire ever since.
Dorothy's imprisonment saddened Leicester's heart, and he longed to see her, for her beauty had touched him nearly. Accordingly, the earl one day intimated to Sir George his wish in terms that almost bespoke an intention to ask for the girl's hand when upon proper opportunity the queen's consent might be sought and perchance obtained. His equivocal words did not induce Sir George to grant a meeting by which Dorothy might be compromised; but a robust hope for the ultimate accomplishment of the "Leicester possibility" was aroused in the breast of the King of the Peak, and from hope he could, and soon did, easily step to faith. He saw that the earl was a handsome man, and he believed, at least he hoped, that the fascinating lord might, if he were given an opportunity, woo Dorothy's heart away from the hated scion of a hated race. Sir George, therefore, after several interviews with the earl, grew anxious to give his Lordship an opportunity to win her. But both Sir George and my lord feared Elizabeth's displeasure, and the meeting between Leicester and the girl seemed difficult to contrive. Sir George felt confident that Dorothy could, if she would, easily capture the great lord in a few private interviews; but would she? Dorothy gave her father no encouragement in the matter, and took pains to shun Leicester rather than to seek him.
As Dorothy grew unwilling, Leicester and Sir George grew eager, until at length the latter felt that it was almost time to exert his parental authority. He told Aunt Dorothy his feeling on the subject, and she told her niece. It was impossible to know from what source Dorothy might draw inspiration for mischief. It came to her with her father's half-command regarding Leicester.
Winter had again asserted itself. The weather was bitter cold and snow covered the ground to the depth of a horse's fetlock.
The eventful night of the grand ball arrived, and Dorothy's heart throbbed till she thought surely it would burst.
At nightfall guests began to arrive, and Sir George, hospitable soul that he was, grew boisterous with good humor and delight.
The rare old battlements of Haddon were ablaze with flambeaux, and inside the rooms were alight with waxen tapers. The long gallery was brilliant with the smiles of bejewelled beauty, and laughter, song, and merriment filled the grand old Hall from terrace to Entrance Tower. Dorothy, of course, was brought down from her prison to grace the occasion with a beauty which none could rival. Her garments were of soft, clinging, bright-colored silks and snowy laces, and all who saw her agreed that a creature more radiant never greeted the eye of man.
When the guests had all arrived, the pipers in the balcony burst forth in heart-swelling strains of music, and every foot in the room longed for the dance to begin.