On the 30th of October, 1910, at Drevolre Estate.
A day in the life of us young ladies is not particularly remarkable. If we are not sitting together, sipping fragrant Earl Grey tea and chatting idly about those who are not present, then we can only dream of the handsome young men we long for. Today, we also have a tea party, but the topic is somewhat different from usual. We are discussing the Harvest Festival, which takes place tomorrow.
My two sisters and I, along with Miss Violet and Miss Harlot, sit at the same table. And although I have stated that the topic of conversation will be about tomorrow's festival, someone's name is sure to be mentioned. How unremarkable!
"My father said that many families from London will come to our place tomorrow," Miss Harlot sips her tea and gently places it back on the table.
"I heard the same thing," Violet smiles mischievously. "The Mortens are coming too!"
"Mr Morten, the owner of the London Bank, isn't he?" Thena interjects. "Maybe I could ask him to review my writing!"
"Or see if you are a suitable bride for one of his sons," I sip my tea, laughing lightly. "He has two sons of marrying age. I heard this is a chance for him to look for prospective brides."
"No need!" Thena shakes her head, her tongue in cheek. "I will choose my own husband!"
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"If you continue to write articles as you do, then you will definitely have to choose your own husband!" Miss Harlot laughs sarcastically. They are actually mocking the articles that my younger sister writes for the Suffolk newspaper. Miss Harlot's father, Jake Dalton, is the editor-in-chief of the paper and he has secretly rejected the articles that my sister has tried to submit. I know that it was thanks to one occasion that Mr Dalton could not take it anymore and sent my family my sister's articles. They were actually not bad, with strong and convincing arguments, just not at the right time. If only she knew how to subtly criticise the colonial regime, perhaps they would have made the front page!
"Then one day, you will have trouble with what you write, Thena."
My reticent younger sister, Diana, suddenly speaks up after a period of silence. She avoids looking at Thena when she speaks, instead fixating on the tea in her moving cup. This surprises us all, but Thena is incensed:
“Shut up, Diana!"
"Thena!" I scold. "Don't raise your voice like that!"
"Noble women always find ways to protect each other, but I don't see that here!" Thena says, then angrily stands up and leaves. I only catch a glimpse of her disappearing behind a thorny rose bush. I know she is feeling hurt, but in some way, her actions will undoubtedly have consequences. My parents have forbidden her from continuing to write, but I know she still secretly sends off her work under various pseudonyms. Her fierce determination, I am amazed, has never been extinguished despite her works being constantly derided like a contagious disease.
I look at Diana, who looks downcast, while Miss Harlot and Violet avoid eye contact. With no other options, I pour everyone more tea, smile, and segue into a different topic:
"Tell me about other faces, won't you?"