Tip, tap and her heels go click, clack down; Feet sheathed in silver down a freshly stained staircase, no longer the enjoyer. Rather, pleasantly the enjoyed — a thousand stars in the sky but none brighter than thee.
Unbeknownst to herself, a grateful crowd she had so hoped to avoid had packed themselves leaking from the foyer outside into the forecourt, all to gain the first glance at the new lady in her best dress. A fountain of attention to be sure, but very much so overflowing, and any hopes of slipping quietly into her own party had been crushed immediately upon arrival.
If I slip now, it’s all over, with every step she fret. Though, to all below, her concentration made the scene seem rather regal.
Truthfully, she had not expected this celebration of faces right after leaving her room, but she knew it was only best to make the most of the spectacle. Few among the faces were familiar, but that mattered so little.
For all, there was a terrible desire to not lose a moment of the euphoria within the air. As the moon grew brighter upon the sky, so too did the hopes that each hour may bring delights greater than the last. Each breath enjoyed as sweet liquor, each dance with each man met with laughter and ecstasy, and even if the night was to be her last, it would be the greatest of all that she could hope for.
Maybe it was the lights, the chill air, or the many handsome men, but never had she wished so badly to live in and not leave a moment.
And so she danced, and so she drank, and so upon a lover’s bright candlelight she merried; A cherub herself upon a garden of delight.
“If I may, you seem quite too far in thought for this beautiful night. Might I ask what could trouble such a fine woman?” A voice spoke from above, startling her.
By the time of this intrusion, it had been many hours since the start of the ball and most her energy had already been expended.
The man above her was handsome and well dressed, though in all aspects nothing apart from the norm, except that he was younger than much the rest present. The boy’s face was soft apart from the rough, though eloquent, men who filled the floor. Though she had only glanced up from the startle, she quickly looked away to ignore him.
“If I am not mistaken, a man should never approach so brazenly. Or perhaps, were you not taught such things? In which case I can only pity.”
“Taught, no. Told, however? Yes. There’s only so much anyone can hope to remember when faced with a woman as beautiful as yourself.” He held out his hand to ask for a dance, only to be met by Victoria getting up to walk away. A man so rude could be charming, sure, but only so much of a degree could be handled. Besides that, in her eyes, a lack of an introduction was as near to a death sentence as could be. However, walking away she felt a strong hand lay on her shoulder to stop her.
“I believe I made myself cle-” Victoria blurted out, assuming the man had followed her, only to find her father holding onto her. Her heart stopped, and his eyes were strained, yet happy, with a definite excitement.
“Well someone really is tired now aren’t they?” He chuckled and motioned her back to the young man “Honey, I want you to meet Victor, he’s the son of a close business acquaintance I know and he has been dying to meet you. Victor, I apologize for my daughter's rashness. I promise you that she is just like her mother, a true beauty!”
“Oh! Well, that is quite alright! Given the chance I’m sure she’ll find that I can be a little more than a hassle to get used to as well!”
How quickly they are to ruin my fun. It’s like I’m not even here…
The two continued their talk, dipping into the works of his father, but nothing that could be of any interest to her. She stayed patient only because she knew she must, and at best appeared to pretend to be interested.
It was known that women should be adept at standing about to be kept around as a centerpiece for comments, without so much as a whisper to be expected from her. But, as the words of these two men trailed along the air, the desire to escape thickened into an exigent fog around her mind. Her eyes tore away from the dull statues before her onto the fleeting crowd of the late night, in search of anything to save her.
Eventually, they relinquished their grip upon her attention and moved to the drawing room with a group of a few other men-of-law for cigars, the younger excusing himself with a deep bow. He tried to be a polite gentleman no doubt, but with neither interest nor attention. Surely her father knew as much, and it was easy enough to believe she had only been attended to for the purpose of smoothing a conversation that may later prove difficult.
No matter if she liked it, Victoria had a competent ability in creating favorable dispositions where previously only venom could be found.
Much of the night was spent thus; one dance after another, some partners silent and fast or loud and slow. Others quite pleasant yet in opposition with the rest, for though many faces had come to play or sing, the whole of the performances were often half a tempo too fast. To dance pleasantly among such conditions meant having to move half a beat also too slow which, while a reprieve from the exercise, made the partners appear slovenly in the crowded hall.
Abbott’s boy, John, was one of these dancers and Victoria was at a loss to decide if she enjoyed more matching everyone else's pace at her own expense, or keeping a more comfortable pace at theirs. No doubt he was nervous and while still smooth, the steps showed it.
Still, he had been polite enough to wait his turn until the end of her long line of suitors and Don Juan’s alike, to ask for the last before she would be likely to take a rest, so perhaps he was more considerate than he was a poor performer.
“So, is it all you’ve ever wished for?” John asked, as he raised his left hand to the sky using a slow spin in the dance to gesture at the entirety of the hall. He was no learned man by any means, but alas fine feathers truly made the bird.
A well-fit, better worn, suit could fool the lot and she found that at that moment, there was rather a fondness to the prospects of being taken a fool. With her hand now free, she lifted up the sleeve of her dress to her face laughing, in a clumsy attempt to hide her flushing cheeks, before responding.
“Well, I am not exactly sure what I was wishing for, but this is quite pleasant. Find me with a bit more energy and I might go as far to say that it's been as close to perfect as possible. Satisfying to see the space too, truth be told. We only use this hall once a year, it is too big to keep up with when we so infrequently entertain, you know? Seems a waste, I suppose.”
“True. It does seem a waste.” He agreed, seemingly annoyed by the idea, before continuing on with a renewed interest. “So, if this isn’t it, then what were you imagining instead?”
“Well for one, there isn’t a single knight among all these powered faces. Nor a royal of any worth, now that I think about it.” She thought that was a stupid question and tried not to answer too seriously. She had waited and dreamt on account of this birthday for as long as she could remember, nearly a decade back from then, and now that dreams were reality she was just glad she had made it.
“Well now don’t be too harsh,” he chuckled, “I heard when I came in that your father managed to invite something like a duke from somewhere off east. Or perhaps it was south? No matter. His only daughter, Sophie, has come to join as well. A treat all around, I mean, she’s basically a princess!”
“And his country?” Victoria inquired skeptically.
“Not sure, who knows. A snoop only hears half of the good half of a story, and I figure I’m no better eavesdrop than any other fool around here.”
“Hah! If you find yourself a fool, the rest of this party must be as well as mongrel food. And either way, a duke is royalty in the same way a man is godly; Born of, but not close to.”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“The rest of the party aside, I am a fool for you alone, I assure.”
“Yet still a fool nonetheless I see. And even after I was so nice to give the benefit of the doubt. How rude.” Victoria joked, a smile sneaking its way in. A pause interrupted, more sober than awkward, and her next comment came out maybe more sincere than she intended.
“It’s been a while since we have gotten to talk. I’ve wondered why, you know. I’ve missed it.”
“I’ve missed you too,” The distinction was not lost on her, and it took everything she had to keep listening with a still composure.
“But surely you’re joking. My father lost all he was worth, not long before we left the neighborhood. Mr. Tuite would never be caught letting such a poor standing find its way into your correspondence. Honestly, I was too scared to try. Only recently have we built our way back up on reputation. Even with the invitation, coming here has made it clear that we are only half the name we had once been.”
“I never knew, I’m so sorry.” She said, looking away with genuine shame. “My father… Did he say as much?”
“Not quite.” He admitted. “But mine had. I suppose that was enough for me at the time. I’m sorry for never writing but I felt, as ashamed as I am to admit it, what use is a boy with nothing but his attitude to a girl with everything?” With as high as he always seemed to hold himself, this was a bit hard to believe and it took her a moment to recognize what she was hearing as the truth.
“You rate yourself too low, and myself much too high! That I can promise without reserve. Besides, I like your attitude, and think you a brute for keeping me so long in the dark no matter the reason!”
“I can apologize in a thousand ways, but I think you’re only half serious regardless. Either way, I promise to send as many letters from here on as I can manage. I can think of much to say, though a little less to actually tell.”
“I’m always only half serious, that’s not fair.” Victoria pouted. “But I look forward to it, as eager as if the ink had already begun to dry.”
With her last quip came the end of the performer's ballad and Victoria took the first chance to escape for a chair at the edge of the room. By then her feet ached more than ever and it was a wonder she could stand. Before leaving, John gave a deep bow of thanks and went off on his own into the gardens.
The weather was agreeable and a rare, cloudless night brightened everything enough for pleasant walks. She thought it was amazing he could stand to think of walking though, as she was in no want of company.
A full quarter of the hall was lined with chairs, placed closest to the entrance from the foyer. Opposite the entrance was an exit that led directly outside to the garden, accompanied by a windowed alcove a step above the rest in height, with a piano and such for any entertainer worth their while to present with. Of which many a lad and lady made good use.
Right beside and beyond laid a covered patio, hugging the entire length of the wall, so encroaching was their garden and all the growth of nature beyond it.
The architect, some Parisian, had an obsession with greenery and it showed. Either that, or he had been a fraudulent cheapskate, as Mr. Tuite thought himself since a large portion of the property that should have been built upon was instead redone with the help of a landscaper to create a modest maze of various rose bushes complementing the back of the estate.
Additionally, three fountains of French design were built at an equal distance along a horizontal center, with a fourth much larger one placed out front. The piece depicted a woman standing behind and above a man sprawled out on the ground, staring longingly into the fountain's water.
It supposedly portrayed the Greek myth of Narcissus and, as one might guess, neither the architect nor landscaper had been invited back for any season following. It was no matter of tastes or aesthetics either, although the statue and its implications were not lost. Rather it was an issue of size.
The house currently was no fit for company, beyond a handful of guest rooms kept empty. Already the missus complained too often of their governess and help alike being too visible, and while the long walks brought much joy and good exercise, it was not like one could just live outside. A Tuite may be many things, but a dog was certainly not one of them.
Finding a seat was easy enough. Victoria had hoped to see a few girls from the neighborhood she knew sitting down with her but despite her hopes, it was instead an older man, nearly elderly, who had gotten up from his own seat to join her by hers. Before there was even any chance to ask for an introduction, he went on.
“Now I know, or guess, that you might not mind ma’am but I’d be quite, oh quite reminisce to not mention that there tear in your dress.” And with that, the man raised a sickly finger to point down near the end of her trail. Sure enough, along near the back of her left foot, there stood out a rip almost the size of her palm.
“Oh my! I guess I hadn’t noticed. Thank you but, well, what now?” She held the fabric up for a closer inspection and wondered how it happened. It was probably stepped on by another couple, and though a sorry sight, she breathed a sigh of relief that the misstep hadn’t taken herself down with it.
“I see you don’t care. It’s just as well, no doubt.” The man spits out.
“Well, I just supposed-”
“You supposed much, no doubt. Though again, it’s just as well. These pieces, the dresses you see, now no they aren’t made quite like they used to be. No doubt, really.” He slapped his thigh to make the point clear but when no response came he suddenly went on, apparently encouraged.
“And these dances too! Now I know these things here, now I know, they go on and on and they go but now well when, do you suppose, that is to say you know, that is to ask when does one end? They go on and on into the night, into the night and past, into twilight even I dare say! And, still, not one gentleman asks to end it? Now I know these ladies and a lady you are, I have no doubt, I see you and I see a lady, again no doubt, run such events for themselves and none other but I assure you! Any gentleman of his worth can tell his ladies what to do and when to do it. No doubt, yes no doubt about it.”
“I’m sure…” She left a deliberate, terrible pause in the conversation, before holding out her hand in hopes of now receiving an introduction after such a proclamation.
“Victoria Tuite. I’m charmed.”
“Charmed no doubt.” He said, leaving her hand hanging in the air without so much as noticing, “I hear you’re the Lady-To-Be of the Bridgefold estate. Congratulations, to such a high birth that is. One could hardly imagine.” And just as suddenly as he arrived, again the man rose as quickly as his joints would allow and began to head away with a slight bow, all before delivering one last line.
“Oh and, by the by, many might think it quite uncouth for a niece to not recognize one's own uncle. Let us thank God and more that I might be of the pitying sort. Quite so.” There was not even a moment to respond, as he limped off away into the crowded room, evidently content with his victory.
That man must be the son of the Devil or worse.
By then, after watching her uncle walk away in silent awe at his complete social incompetency, any thoughts of pain in her feet could no longer be given a second thought. At that moment, more than anything in the world, she wished she could just go to bed. It’s been said that sleep favors the weak, and more than ever before she felt so.
Rising from her seat, Victoria made a beeline towards the entrance hoping to avoid any more attention after all that. Unfortunately, it was not to be.
In a party put on exclusively for herself, escaping unnoticed was almost an impossible task; It took not but five steps before her mother took notice, and peeled away from a small crowd of sailor’s wives trading stories, to come confront her daughter.
“You know…” She said after catching up, pinching hard into the side of Victoria’s arm without letting anyone else see, “I’ve as little interest myself in these hags as you might with those boys, but no matter what, they all came to see you. So where might you be headed off to?”
“Just look,” freeing her arm before gesturing to the tear in the back of her dress, irritated by the unearned pain.
“I am sure they will all think me a girl of the country if I continue like this. Besides, we’ve been dancing for hours, and now everyone is either drinking, resting, walking, or just leaving. So, if all is well, I’m off to see Meredith to have this fixed. Have you seen her, by any chance?”
“Probably off crying in her room, how should I know? But, well fine. If you’re leaving then I have no reason to stick around either, I suppose. We haven’t enough windows open anyways, and it’s dreadfully hot so I’ll be off for a walk. The air in here is terrible. Would you be sure to meet me outside, before the end of the night? I’ll be off somewhere near the stables if I had to guess. The mares must be having a wonderful time of it in this fair weather.”
The two made their way back to the foyer, arm in arm as gentlemen of all sorts wished the both of them well, ignoring their best attempts to leave quietly.
“Oh, and one last thing!” Her mother said as they made their way towards a dim hallway near a door leading outside, “I saw how well you two were getting along, and one of the finer ladies I was with, quite an influential figure I’m guessing, sought to put in a good word to Mr. Abbott for you. Let me just say, he was beyond delighted! So please, see about finding a chance to speak with John sometime tonight. He may have something important to say, and there are… well, much worse options.”
The thought of her uncle's graying, fading hairline and pathetic half-limp flashed through Victoria's mind.
“I’m sure, but let us try not to put the cart before the horse.” She laughed, reaching out to open the door she knew her mother would be leaving her from.
“With a horse this beautiful, they’ll hardly see the cart. Now go, and may God be on your side.” And with a kiss on her daughter's cheek, she left, leaving Victoria alone in a dark corner of the house, music and laughter echoing in from behind.