Amelia Benoit’s Engagement Party - Late Spring of 1872

Perhaps it was the bluestocking mind of Kote, but she often found that the conversation at soirees and any formal arrangements in London lately decreased their amount for stimulating conversation. Her eyes glazed over her companions, Amelia voicing her expression of gratitude for their presence for a fifth time although she could only make out the movement of her lips. The voices were all strung together and blurred as Kote moved her gaze to her empty glass. There were only remnants of red wine sparkling in the glass crevices.

“Yellow is such an interesting choice, Amelia! To think the color has transcended such fashion boundaries!”

Kote had to agree with the sentiment of whoever spoke, nodding her head as she admired her acquaintance. Although she had the expectation to mingle with high society due to her engagement with the mysterious Daniels, she could argue for friendship with Amelia as she was an early riding instructor for her years ago. The two used to ride together in the park on Saturday mornings for small chatter, but now it seemed Amelia enjoyed the larger discussions of the day, which was of no distaste to Kote. Women found hobbies where they could in this life, whether it was on a horse or in a dress. Amelia’s bright yellow evening gown was adorned with ruffles and an inner layer of lace, a lovely piece but the color was certainly new in London’s eyes. The fashion changed so quickly that Kote struggled to maintain that social awareness, especially since she was out of touch the last year due to her illness, but luckily pastels were still accommodated. Kote adjusted the sleeves of her lilac dress, avoiding the growing sensation of feeling constricted by the pain. This time she could feel it higher in her rib cages, a clenching sensation as if she was gripped by a giant hand. The hand of God, punishing me for some terrible sin. She had a fervent imagination that she attributed to her pain, if at all to loosen the hold it always had on her. Kote felt her mind slip away and she attempted to reaffirm her purpose here at this soiree.

Forced to attend society had grown her rather tired, exhausted in the hopes that her fiance and his family would appear any day and she had to play her theatrical character well. One who cared enough about the inner London society- which interested her but did not support her current lifestyle grimacing in pain and chained to a chair. To bridge them with high society in hopes of producing business profits across the Atlantic sea, yet she knew her family dreaded the concept of her as a steady connection. She had few friends- let alone Amelia with whom she had not maintained a firm association, and mostly everyone knew her as the beautiful but ill choice.

James used to tease that there always had to be one sickly girl in attendance, which made her weep for days. In an attempt to cheer her, he tried to persuade her that men were often attracted to those attributes, which she punched him in the shoulder. To her luck, he only laughed more.

The Daniels were summoned into discussion with the men concerning business, but fortunately, nobody had asked Kote about her engagement or their whereabouts. As best as she could dictate, it was not official until they arrived, let alone placed the temporary ring on her finger. The invitation to this engagement party felt forced, although Amelia and her friends did not seem to question nor begrudge Kote for her presence. They attempted to be welcoming and inviting, but it was always under the guise of small talk. Kote could not share the trivialities of being isolated from people and the persistent pain she faced, for it was not a topic to be shared amongst anyone at all.

But at last, her savior was here.

“Pardon me, ladies, but we have some guests arriving.” James had snaked his way over, a hand gliding around his cousin’s waist as he smiled at them, their feminine faces beaming in return. Some of these women, single, had opportunities to be courted by her cousin but he seemed distant at the prospect. Business was his priority and Kote feared for his sake his mother would be quick to force him soon after her wedding. Time froze for Kote before another full glass of wine was shoved into her hand, James removing the empty one. “You’ll need this, you look rather pale.”

She nodded gently to her companions before following James around the crowd of dancers and music, their feet matching the tempo of the marble floors. Her throat was closing and she looked at the glass of wine, debating if an additional glass would increase her pain tomorrow. Her choices had to revolve around thinking of the future, for anything she did could ultimately increase her hardships. She cursed under her breath, taking a large sip as she followed James closely in step.

James pulled her further away from the event towards the main entrance of the Benoit mansion, the music and crowd noise leveling down but echoing through the halls. Kote could smell the flowers that decorated the architecture of these halls, but the colors blurred as she passed them hastily to meet James’ speed. She could hardly catch her breath when he spun around, looking at her with quickened eyes. He appeared to be looking at her curiously, her hair and her dress. He quickly looked at the back of the dress, as a common trait of her pain included random bleeding that stained several dresses and coats. She felt the fear of that instance as this was not an easy fix, but James didn’t acknowledge or validate that trepidation.

“You look well, cousin,” he nodded in conclusion. “How are you feeling?”

What an open question, Kote almost laughed. She could feel the nerves attempting to bubble out but she composed herself quickly. Admittedly, she felt frightened and in continuous pain. Her hips now ached for an unknown cause, a sharp pain traveling down her right calf as if she had ridden a horse all day- and her head pounded as much as her heart. But besides the fear, there was nothing unfamiliar- and she knew as much as even her closest companion would ask, he did not want an honest answer.

In her response, she merely nodded and took another large sip of her wine before James removed it from view to a servant standing dutily in the hall. James took in the view of his cousin once more, forcing a smile before taking her arm and guiding her to the front door.

“You are late.”

Wonderful news to hear, Kote thought, attempting to keep her cousin’s pace as her aunt’s words came at them with a sharp but hidden smile. Kote often ignored her hateful words that were often disguised under a motherly protective nature, and while Kote knew little of her own mother, she would never treat her family in the same manner. James guided her up the small set of steps to the landing of the grand staircase, the main door open wide to the darkened grass lawn and the party behind them. All eyes were on Kote and she hesitated to glance at her aunt and uncle, standing regal beside the strangers on this marble landing.

There at the threshold of the Benoit Mansion stood the Daniels family, a firm trio of men. Kote glanced over their dress attire, a quick and easy camouflage into London society, but there was a gleam in their eyes that spoke of that American fire, that desire to partake in the world around them. The Daniels father, directed to Kote by his aged face, was darker than the others as if he spent his days in the sun, and his wrinkles revealed her assumption It was a compliment to his hard work, although Kote would not speak on it- she’d rather not speak to him at all. He glared at her with such malcontent and disregard, his brows furrowed but no immediate revelation was given. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hands found it as if he was pondering on a thought but did not speak. The three stood on the threshold, waiting to be welcomed into their new world.

“I hope your journey was pleasant and not full of hardships, gentlemen,” Kote initiated, bowing slightly although this was a slight in her eyes. These men didn’t have titles, they wanted hers, yet not a single exchange of gratitude nor introduction was granted to her. They acknowledged her cousin James with a firm nod of their head, James smiling weakly in return but his arm wiggled around her arm tighter. The air felt thick and unpleasant, a desire to escape flooding Kote as she felt her heart threatened by this environment. Normally this rush of blood would cause her to faint but the arm of her cousin gave her strength to remain composed. Fainting or any sign of illness would discredit her thoroughly.

This time she glanced at the two brothers standing behind Mr. Daniels, almost the end points of a triangle shape behind each shoulder. They looked similar with a hard face and contentious gaze, their dark hair combed as neatly as possible. Neither gave any inclination as to who was granted her hand, and they stared at her as if she were an object on display. At the mere thought, she swallowed loudly, attempting to hide her awareness of their perception and keep from reddening her face. The only desire she felt was to run away from there, to escape the silent observation of her newest family. The Daniels said nothing, and neither did her aunt or uncle as they waited. James shifted clumsily beside her, almost falling a step back before gaining his composure. The music behind her grew louder with gay activity and celebration, and Kote watched their eyes leave her and towards their entrance into society behind her. There was that curious gleam back in their eyes, and excitement at this new world, not at her.

“She will do.”

Kote eyed the brother on her farthest left who spoke the words, and their gazes met before he continued past her with no further acknowledgment. The rest of the Daniels nodded in concurrence, following the eldest brother into the party of splendour. Kote stood anchored to the floor, unsure to follow but knew the societal rules that she was not asked personally to participate with her fiance as his guest Her aunt and uncle also did not reassure her with a warm gaze, just their anticipatory enterprise glee. They followed swiftly towards the Daniels and engaged in business-coded conversations, leaving her with James. Her cousin appeared quite bemused but buried it quickly with a smile when he noticed her gaze.

“Well, what a wonderous start,” he exclaimed, attempting to assure her but he knew she was more than displeased. She will do? “Are you in need of a moment?”

Kote couldn’t get the words out, the spillage of tears threatening to flood if she spoke, but she nodded quickly in response. James brushed her shoulder gently and fixed a small bow on the collar of her dress before following his family to share the new world with the Daniels.

She stood silently as she attempted to gather herself, the door stewards clumsily averting their gaze. Kote knew the Benoits as respectable and their servants to not pertain to gossip, but the mere thought of this interaction as a whole tempted her to tears once more. The feeling of being used hurt her, despite the years of training and learning to be valuable in return to her family. The Daniels didn’t offer anything, let alone a small smile or mere question... and her greatest fear came true. This new family of hers would be the same, and she would not only be trapped in a body that absorbed pain but also a fiance that would disregard her completely. Kote could not determine which cage was sounder, let alone if either choice led to eventual freedom and acceptance.

She felt the gentle breeze from the front lawn blow into her dress and looked across the lawn at the smaller party outside. In the front was a large corral, horses racing each other down the lawn as there were other smaller activities for the party members with paper lanterns, food, and frivolous drinks.

Her ears captured the sweet cacophony of neighs and whinnies from the horses, and in that swift moment, there was her small taste of freedom.

In a hypnotic haze, Kote felt compelled to watch the horses and she walked away from the building and down the main steps outside. She reached the bottom before wondering how she did not miraculously fall but kept her stride towards the edge fence. The strongest smell of smoke assaulted her but with a small disgust continued on her way. Several guests looked her way with a brief acknowledgment but kept to their lawn games and activities, and Kote found an insignificant corner of her world to watch the horses she missed terribly.

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When they arrived at the correct address without getting lost a second time, the Daniels carriage grew quiet. They were accosted by Benoit servants immediately, helping them out of the carriage and treating them as royalty as the family examined the wealth around them. Froce was sickened at his family’s disregard for their welcoming entourage and motioned to his page boy to wait at a distance. The nervous boy, with bright blonde hair matched with a terrible cut, nodded with excitement and stepped back towards the topiaries and bushes at the entrance.

The driveway in which they were deposited was adjacent to the large wooden doors opened inward but the first journey was the large staircase.

Froce felt his anxiety stir in his bloodstream, his right hand shaking as he motioned to his brothers for a moment. They disregarded him and continued, and Froce went a few steps before stopping. His heart continued to race, his skin sweaty and clammy. In an instinctual decision, his hand found his lighter in his dinner coat, removing it swiftly to light a cigarette. He felt the relief and heat on his lips, blowing carefully to inhale accidentally and embarrass himself further.

This was a disaster. His nerves were shot as he attempted to collect himself. The fear and anticipation that flooded through him, Froce could not determine the source. He certainly was not frightened of women- let alone the mere thought of a marriage- and the crowds full of boisterous wealthy men and keen observant ladies did not deter him. So what has him so aggravated?

Perhaps it was the thought that everything about this business deal relied on him to secure this marriage and these connections. They could continue business in America with heavy pockets and banks, but this development here meant everything for the Daniels. He realized now, taking another inhale of smoke, that perhaps the fear in his stomach was an anticipatory discovery of his mystery- his own mistakes and sins- soon his rotten core inside would be exposed for inspection.

Let alone bringing another family and company along with them.

The shakes in his hand decreased, the smoke having the intended effect to soothe his nerves. The other questions flooded his brain as he awaited the crowd inside. Was she even here? What if there was a miscommunication in this deal? Would he be bombarded with other women and questions?

With a deep sigh, he rudely used the sleeve of his dinner coat to wipe the sweat from his brow- an American custom he knew he’d be shamed for without a silly handkerchief. A woman swiftly descended the stairs at the flash his arm covered his eyes, a cool breeze soothing his perspiring skin. The sweet smell of flowers- perhaps poppies- clashed with the smoke in the air and won, as he glanced to see a woman descend past him towards the lawn of activities.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, attempting to put out the cigarette as he watched his fiance continue past him. It seems he missed the entire introduction...He cursed again at the thought of his father’s future assault, whether it was verbal or otherwise. What the fuck is wrong with me?

He realized the page boy still crept beside the bushes, watching him with his intended package in hand. He took one hand to bear that weight and gave him a small thumbs-up of encouragement before Froce motioned him to wait once more. He blew this introduction and his small gift for her would not justify his terrible manners.

It was unnerving to think that he recognized her from a mere portrait, but he had studied it for so long on their journey he would’ve been more terrified if she stood before him and appeared vastly different. Froce saw her bypass the activities and drinks, waltzing her way to the corral fences. Despite her apparent fascination, she did not approach the fence but stood apart from it, watching from a distance with a silent yearning. She appeared enthralled by the horses if not for her stoic face, but her body relaxed and stood at ease. Perhaps she was not angry... perhaps she was the one who escaped before such terrible atrocities could occur. Damn, what did my brother or father say...?

The crunching of grass echoed as he maintained a slow approach in her direction, watching her. Her lilac dress blew softly with the late breeze, her cream gloves smoothed over her waist in small distress. He eyed the scooped neckline of her attire, attracted if for a moment by her chest before his distraction grew elsewhere. While her portrait was of her long illustrious black hair that he smoothed over with his fingers when anxious, now she stood before him with her hair neatly done. It was an opera coiffure- not that he understood what this style was- with fresh flowers in the folded parts of hair in the back. She held such regal countenance with her lifted hair that also revealed to Froce the enigmatic appeal of her neck. A flush of arousal hit him as he attempted to look elsewhere, but his imagination did not assist him as he wondered what her skin felt like there, or yet his thumb gently exploring the crevices of her throat. The air grew magically hot as he shifted in place aside from her, yet she had not noticed his presence.

Her side profile was marvelous, her face soft and cheeks with color in this outside environment. Her brown eyes watched the horses gallop across the lawn, restricted in their well-sized cage. She wrinkled her soft nose in thought, leaving him in the terrible stage of whether to interrupt her. Froce felt courageous if for a mere moment, but looked once more at her and grew tongue-tied. This was a terrible time to be in shambles merely at the sight of her. Now he recognized that fear and trepidation once more as he realized that his time spent observing her portrait and now admiring her: he was quite smitten.

Which was a dangerous thing to be, and he would not encourage her to feel the same. He would not destroy her that way.

In an instant he cleared his throat, startling her softly as she craned that beautiful neck to glance at him. He watched as her face came to full moonlight, an angelic image to behold. They glanced at each other in silence as her eyes glinted with curiosity as if she was attempting to know how she recognized him.

“Good evening,” he said plainly, and she nodded in return.

“Hello.”

And then she turned back to look at the horses once more, disregarding him entirely. He almost laughed, befuddled by her disdain for his presence. Then again, she was not granted a portrait of him and he did have a different aesthetic than his brothers- which he did not wish to explain to her. Surely he didn’t look too different from them to be recognized?

They stood in silence once more and Froce smiled. The silence was deafening but not uncomfortable, just a heavy additional presence between the both of them. She did not seem bothered by this third presence, more so curiously perked at his presence- yet she did not engage. He had his work cut out for him, and he did not mind a little.

“Do you ride?” he asked, assuming her attention to these creatures was fueled by passion. She turned quicker this time, light and excitement in her steps and eyes before she paused. Her lips moved to say yes, but her answer betrayed her.

“No,” she replied abruptly but softly. “I do not.”

He nodded in thought, placing his hands in his dinner jacket. He felt his posture lacking and lax, which he knew the English would berate him for. He couldn’t help it- this amusement was too much. He was not entirely sure why speaking to her now felt like some game, one he was winning and losing simultaneously.

“You simply enjoy watching horses, then?”

“I suppose.”

To think about the anxiety of moments ago, her indifference only made him cockier, a small chuckle escaping his lips. If anything, she was making this introduction quite adventurous by either feigning ignorance or she simply had no clue who she was in conversation with.

“Is there something amusing, sir?”

“No, not at all,” he smiled, granting her a taste of her own medicine in short response.

He watched her throat stricken with annoyance before turning her entire body to face him. She did not appear angry nor pleasant, but Froce could ascertain he had interrupted some sort of thought or moment for her outside alone with these horses. For while the two were alone in their corner, there were enough eyes-and his shy page boy somewhere on the front lawn- to not break societal rules least she not have a chaperone. Her stoic face was careful of emotion as she observed him in closer detail.

“I must let you know that I am already spoken for, Mister...?”

“Daniels.”

Froce, quick in response, kept his laughter as the revelation was revealed. Her body tensed, eyes widening and lips parting before quickly shutting them. Her face flushed pink, a complimenting feature in her pastel attire. He hated how beautiful she looked abashed, and he had to promise himself not to tease so much in their relationship in hopes of seeing her that way consistently. He watched her eyes scan him up and down once more before he stepped forward closer to her.

“Might I know who has your dear hand in marriage? Is he at least handsome?” he teased. She grew aware that he knew of her observations, so she scoffed immediately and returned her gaze to the horses.

“I fail to understand myself, but so far the only aspect I have met with the entire family I am to engage with is arrogance.”

That remark accosted him, but he knew it to be true. He realized now that perhaps teasing was not the best course of action, as it was clear that whatever introduction she must have endured was not delightful. His fiance also seemed stunned at the words that spilled from her lips, even if spoken in truth.

“I believe I missed the introduction party- I hope my family was courteous to you,” he apologized.

“They were not,” she responded curtly. “They were also not articulate as to which brother I am engaged to, but I am sure they are more than pleased with the party and talking with my uncle.”

“I am afraid you are stuck with me,” he smiled gently. He paused, waiting for some terrifying remark of how she loathed being married to him or regret would spill from her lips, but she said nothing. Her eyes often gave her position away, as she seemed to be admiring his hair quite often before looking at the horses once more.

“I hope your journey was well-”

“I brought something for you-” they spoke together.

“Oh,” Kote replied, swallowing her pride as she seemed to cower at their simultaneous conversation. Her timidness and submissiveness were not appalling, but very different than the average American woman- at least in the larger cities. In it, she held tightly to grace and propriety, and that was the aspect he would have to adjust to. Something was appealing to this nature, although unfamiliar to him.

He motioned over to the page boy who stood clumsily with the package, and swiftly the boy trudged over the grass to them. He bowed slightly at Kote, in which she smiled generously in return. Froce was jealous for a moment if only to remind himself that he was the asshole in this particular situation and was undeserving of similar praise.

The boy handed the package to Froce and returned to his original and faithful spot. The package itself was abysmally wrapped with brown paper - Froce’s poor talents on display- and in removing it revealed a suitable stack of books.

“I noticed in your portrait you like to read,” Froce acknowledged, yet waited for a response. She looked at the books with a gleam in her eyes but the rest of her face did not reveal much.

“Yes,” she admitted, “I do.”

He stepped closer, now within two feet away as he held the books in front of him. Her head tilted up to meet his gaze, their height a small yet noticeable contrast. This time she did not cower nor convey disdain, but a small curve of her lips met with a grateful air.

“They’re American authors: Hawthorne, Whitman, and Lousia May Alcott- granted the latter is a dime novel which is a shorter and perhaps working-class material, but I enjoyed them nonetheless.” He paused, regretting his last statement as it felt as if he looked down on his own status; yet this move to London was meant to rise above that. The lady before him was certainly not of the same material, the same cloth as the Americans said.

“You also read?” she pondered excitedly, her brown eyes not leaving his gaze.

“Not as often as I would like,” he confessed, attempting to avoid getting lost in her eyes. It was at least better than admiring her neck once more, a stronger urge now that the two were closer together. Dancing would surely be a problem, not because of his lack of talent, but the strong desire to place his hands in improper places. He was not a rake- the term in London here was quite different than in America- but already he felt strongly compelled to his fiance. He was practically disgusted with not only his behavior but himself.

In his heart, he knew that fascination with her was the worst thing to do, let alone this early on.

“I would be more than delighted to read them with you,” she beamed, looking over the titles and bindings of the books once more. “We don’t have many shipments of foreign authors often- let alone the novels in the library are often scientific and historical- not to say I do not mind those.” She seemed to be stumbling upon her words and Froce felt the pull become tighter to her. He had to sever this now, as gently as possible.

“Yes well...perhaps we should head inside, it is rather...” he paused to find the right word, but already he noticed the shift in her body language, “Well, it does smell of horses, would you not say- agree, that is?”

She made an amused noise but appeared to understand the hidden meaning in his gesture. With a quick nod the two turned back towards the entrance of the Benoit mansion, the rest of the party that was outside now gone. They didn’t move forward, however, as he awaited her lead. After all, this was her world that he now belonged to.

“To business then,” she cheered, although there was no heart in her words. He knew that his sudden shift had pained her or reminded them that they were just a means to an end. Inwardly, he hoped they could comfort each other in that, but already Froce knew the danger. Falling in love was not for men like him, not for men with harbored secrets and loathsome motives. Love and poems were for men like Duse, who he might need to search out if he wanted to at least keep an agreeable peace with his future wife.

He offered his right arm, which she quickly linked with a reassuring but pained smile.

“To business,” he agreed, the grief of lying sinking to his core and reaffirming his greatest fear: he would deceive everyone, especially her, with the impression of being a good man.