Over a period of two weeks, Lady Harriet spent every waking hour ensuring Althea had all of the necessary instruments to find a ‘marvellously opulent husband’. She had to admit her admiration for her aunt, seeing her put so much energy into a girl whom she'd only just met, and for that reason, Althea tried her best to put up a happy exterior. It was inside, however, that she was in an absolute frenzy.
Her aunt had made her spend every second of both day and night making her get fitted for more dresses than she'd ever owned and accepting invitations to balls and celebrations in hopes of meeting a suitor. She’d also insisted Althea take special potions to help with her ‘uneven complexion’ and allow her to lose ‘extra weight’. All the potions did was make her sick, so after the first two days she'd begun disposing of them in the powder room. Her aunt had even hired a French coiffeuse to put a hot melted wax all over her legs, arms, and upper lip to burn her skin and pull out her hair, insisting men enjoy a hairless female.
By the end of each night, Althea was exhausted. She hardly had any time for reading, and had not gotten to explore nearly as much of the city as she'd wanted to upon arriving here.
She sat now, in the sitting room, sipping her afternoon tea. Her aunt had gone downstairs to retrieve the day's post from the servant. Althea enjoyed the moment’s peaceful silence and her solitude in the room. It was raining today and gloomy as it had been nearly everyday since she'd arrived, save for the day she’d entered London from Manchester. She briefly closed her eyes and listened to the gentle strum of raindrops flicking the windows around the large room. Althea wished she could be curled up in that windowsill nook with her favourite book in hand. She longed to get lost in the brave adventures of the characters she'd come to adore.
Suddenly, the door to the sitting room burst open. Her aunt Harriet rushed in, gleaming with excitement. Althea sat up from her place on the white, tufted sofa, and put her tea down on the tray in front of her. She’d never seen the stout little woman move quite so quickly. Something important must have come.
"Oh my darling girl, this is a magical moment!" she cried out in pure joy, "we've been invited to the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough’s annual charity gala! This is one of the biggest courting events all year!"
Althea's eyebrows arched high, but she quickly smiled, trying her best to look as excited as her aunt was.
"Don't be scared dear, this is going to be great for you. You may even get lucky and find a suitor the first night! Especially thanks to all the help those potions have been giving you, you have been looking slimmer each day."
Althea internally rolled her eyes at that comment.
"Yes Lady Harriet, this is excellent news!" Even with the extra emphasis, Althea didn't believe her own words. She felt sick thinking about having to compete for the affections of men. Men who she was only pursuing for their money. It was enough to make her excuse herself in need of the powder room.
Once the door shut behind her, Althea let out a long, shaky breath and leaned against the cool wood. She didn't know why she was so nervous, every young woman makes this journey, most younger than her. This didn't help to calm her nerves though. She felt as if she had been plunged into a new life far too quickly, things were moving too fast. If her aunt had it her way she would be married before the end of summer.
...
Long days turned into short weeks as the Duke and Duchess's gala rapidly approached. Her aunt had not only picked every single lace lined dress she was to wear, but also restricted her diet to one meal a day consisting of a light baked bread topped with a slice of tomato and an egg. This was all she ate once a day, every day for fourteen days. Each night she went to bed feeling her abdomen gurgle from the empty pit inside of it. It was hard for her to sleep when all she could think about were the delicacies her father used to have imported from around the world. Oh how she missed the Swedish buns and exotic island fruits, and even their more routine dinner of a roast bird with vegetables. Her mouth watered just thinking of the Dutch chocolate cake her father used to bring back with him from his travels.
As Althea laid in her bed the night before the gala, silent tears slid down her cheeks and onto the white linen pillow under her head. She missed her father. She missed her home. She missed her old life in Manchester. With each passing day she had begun to reel more and more into herself. Some days she would go hours without talking to anyone. Her aunt would speak to her about the duties of a woman courting and she would pretend to listen. In reality she heard hardly any of the things her aunt spoke to her about. Sometimes she thought of nothing, only a blank wall in her mind which she imagined looking at for hours, wasting her time doing nothing, something her aunt would be horrified to think about.
As she closed her damp eyes now, Althea breathed in shakily and her only thought was on that roast chicken she had smelled her aunt eating for dinner. Oh how she would relish in even a taste of that chicken right now. Her stomach roared in response, and before she could process her movements she was headed across her bedchamber to the large double doors that separated her room from the long hallway to the stairs.
She cracked the door open, and even now hours later, the smell still lingered in the air. She had to swallow as her mouth became damp with the thought of eating something besides bread and tomato with egg.
She was careful not to make a sound as she made her way down the corridor to the stairs, and then down to the pantry. Inside were shelves and shelves of cheeses, wines, breads, and fruit such as apples, grapes, and oranges. She instantly reached for a thick block of white cheese and didn't even hesitate as she took a bite out of it. The bold flavours melted in her mouth and she had to keep from moaning as she closed her eyes and chewed, inhaling deeply.
Before she could even fully swallow the cheese, she plucked a strand of grapes from the vine and bit off two so fiercely, part of the stems came off with them but she didn't care, she barely chewed before devouring them, stems and all.
She ate apples, oranges, rolls, and nuts, not caring if anyone missed them come tomorrow. Just as she was finally beginning to feel whole again, she noticed a covered plate in the corner of the pantry. Knitting her brows together, she set aside the fruit she'd been eating and walked to the other side of the pantry. She peaked under the cloth to reveal the remainder of what she presumed to be tonight's dessert. A two tier chocolate cake. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the rich scent of the cake. She didn't bother to look for something to cut out a piece for herself, but rather used her hand to rip out a small chunk. She savoured the rich, smooth flavour of the dark chocolate, licking it off of her fingers once she had eaten the whole piece. She re-covered it and did her best to make everything look as it had when she had walked into the pantry. Before she went back upstairs she pumped water onto her sticky hands in the powder room to rid them of any evidence left behind by her actions.
That night Althea fell into a most marvellous slumber. She slept more peacefully than she had in weeks.
...
Cynthia was in Althea's room to wake her before the sun had even begun its pursuit over the horizon. Althea sat up wiping her eyes as she remembered the events from last night. She swallowed hoping no one would notice a few missing fruits and cheeses from the pantry.
As Althea stood up from the bed to use the powder room, Cynthia skittered to the other part of the room where she would dump buckets of hot water into Althea's bathing tub.
She could already feel her nerves for this evening arising. Her aunt had deemed it a possibility for her to meet an ideal suitor tonight. Althea could hardly bear the thought. She sighed, looking at herself in the powder room mirror. Most girls looked forward to this triumph of blossoming into a woman. Even she had, once… Until she realised that finding a suitor had nothing to do with finding a love match, a true connection. No, marriage was a signed contract, a declaration of an exchange between two individuals. Who was going to provide the most wealth, grandeurs, and social gain in return for a pretty face, young supple skin, and someone to bear heirs to continue their lineage. She wished she could be as free as Jane Eyre, Althea desperately wished she could be so bold as the women she read about in her books… but she was weak, and she was going to give in to the weight of society whether she wanted to or not.
She closed her eyes quickly and opened the door with a trembling hand. Althea had no choice in the matter, and it was time to stop fretting over it, it would do no good being miserable.
"Lady Harriet said she's brought in a most skilled artist to do your hair and makeup for tonight's event m'lady," Cynthia blushed slightly. She had been the only one to ever do Althea's hair or makeup since she’d started attending balls and galas. Having someone new styling her only offset her nerves more.
Nevertheless, she nodded and excused Cynthia. Althea grabbed the laces at the collar of her night dress and pulled it off allowing it to slip to her ankles. She had already removed the trousers she wore under it upon using the powder room.
She quickly sunk into the steaming water and began scrubbing at her skin, trying to focus on anything besides her roaring, protesting thoughts. She remembered a book she had read as a young girl. It was based around a woman who dressed as a man so that she may not be subject to all of the social events and utter torment that young, unmarried, girls were usually subject to. Althea imagined herself as a male. Oh how she marvelled at the idea of going off to explore a more remote portion of the world. Images of herself as a mighty warrior, the looks upon people's faces when she revealed herself to be a woman, filled her mind. She thought of the tale of Medusa her father used to recite to her before bed, thought of how she was a monster who was slain by Perseus. She remembered how she had looked at her father and said "what if Medusa was only so angry because people always came to her home to hurt her?" Her father had only laughed at the new narrative Althea had tried to paint.
But she was beginning to realise now that she had been exactly right. Because Medusa was once like her, happy and full of life. Maybe the snake headed woman had begun turning men to stone out of fear they were there to inflict harm upon her. Althea was so tired of the narrative that was centred around men being heroes. Most men were vial, evil creatures who took advantage of those below them. She grimaced at the thought.
What the world did not know is how Medusa was once a protector, a priestess actually. She was beautiful and kind and wise… until she rejected Poseidon who got mad and stole her virtue so she could no longer remain a priestess. She was then cursed to live ugly and alone on an island for all of eternity. All because a man, a beloved male god, had taken something that did not belong to him. It pained Althea to know that most people only knew Medusa as a monster, when in reality, she was just a poor girl hurt by the actions of a man.
...
Her face looked paler than she would have liked it to, thanks to the white powder her aunt's stylist had applied. It took all of her argumentative abilities to deny the tall white wig they had wanted to put atop her head. Instead her real dark brown curls were pulled up into a wide bun, held together with pins. The front half lay waved to one side of her forehead. Althea's dress was made from gold velvet and lace, with long bell sleeves that cut off mid arm. She could hardly breathe in the bone crushingly tight corset at her waist. It was so constricting, her breasts were pushed nearly to her collar bone, as if desperately searching for space. Did anyone actually think this image of discomfort was flattering?
"You look absolutely mythical my dear!" her aunt exclaimed at her side, as they slowly strolled towards the Duke and Duchess’s enormous palace. "I think you may just strike a match tonight!"
Althea's jaw clenched tightly. She still felt slightly woozy from the carriage ride out of the city. It had taken them half a day to arrive here.
They were greeted at the top of the steps by a doorman. Her aunt spoke boldly, "Madam Harriet Tringlton and Miss Althea Lezant of the Sancteed Estate."
The man looked down at his scroll before marking something off with his quill and nodding.
"Have a joyous evening ladies."
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With that they stepped inside. Althea's mouth ran dry. She could see from outside that the Duke and Duchess’s Blenheim Palace was enormous, but it somehow looked even larger from the inside. If she had thought her aunt's own manor to be vast, this was extending to new horizons. As Althea crossed the threshold, the grand expanse of the Great Hall unfolded before her, adorned with towering columns and intricate tapestries that seemed to whisper stories of the past. Already crowds of people mingled in groups just beyond them. The scent of perfume and candle wax enveloped the palace hall, and the soaring windows high above them cast dancing reflections upon gilded frames and ornate furnishings from the late evening sun.
"Come now girl, there are more exciting things to see beyond these walls," her aunt laughed. Althea forced herself to look ahead.
She could hear the roar of chatter and music coming from beyond the massive stone archway, to what she assumed was the ballroom. Her aunt led her through the doors into a large expansive room, already filling up with people. Some danced, some talked, some ate and drank, and others just stood or sat to the side watching it all. Her aunt had been right, many of the female courtiers here were doused in the most eye-catching attire for suitors. Most wore braided white wigs as well. She internally rolled her eyes, she didn't understand this odd need to hide one's natural hair in favour of these ridiculous snowmen looking mockeries. She felt they only made young girls look old.
"This is the Long Library,” her aunt beamed, “come let me introduce you to some of my friends.” Lady Harriet pulled Althea at her side, sweeping her through the crowds of people standing and speaking amongst each other.
They approached a table of middle aged women who were all chatting and drinking from narrow stemmed champagne flutes. When they spotted her aunt they all smiled broadly at her.
"Ladies, this is the niece I was telling you all about! Miss Althea Lezant."
They all smiled and greeted her, introducing themselves. She knew she likely wouldn't remember a single name. They all sounded so similar, and with their white wigs, it was hard to distinguish the women from one another.
She sat, looking around the room as her aunt talked briefly with her friends. Althea zoned out for most of the conversation, looking around the room at all of the decadent individuals. The music was light and flowed softly from the far corner of the room where the orchestra played. Ten minutes had passed when her aunt excused her and Althea and they continued their way around the party. Althea could feel the eyes on her as she passed people. It made her knees shake slightly under the heavy weight of the dress. She was one of the few women not wearing one of those horrendous headpieces.
She kept her gaze straight and walked on with her aunt.
Suddenly an older gentleman wearing a black velvet suit with gold embellishments on the overcoat approached them, smiling widely.
"Madam Harriet, you look lovely as always," the tall man complimented, kissing her aunt's gloved hand. He was older, but not elderly. Though it was hard to tell his exact age with the white, pulled back wig he wore. It was tied in the back with a golden ribbon, made to match the embellishments on the lapels of his tailcoat.
He turned to face Althea, eyes widening slightly as he looked her over. Once, then a second time, as if wanting to engage with every detail of her.
"And who may this vision be?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of her as he reached for her hand, pulling it up slowly to meet his warm lips. She swallowed. Althea could feel her blush spreading up from her neck to her cheeks. She hoped with all of the extra pale makeup she was wearing it wasn't noticeable.
Her aunt just beamed.
"This, Lord Herbert, is my darling niece Althea Lezant," she spoke, winking at her, "Althea this is Lord Robert Herbert, he is a prominent member of our parliament." She could practically hear the insinuation in her aunt's voice. ‘He has status, and he’s wealthy.’
When he pulled back from her hand, she could still feel the slight wetness on it as she tucked it into the fold of her gold dress.
"A beautiful girl and a beautiful name to match," he declared, smiling to reveal a set of gleaming, wolfish teeth, with one gold tooth shimmering out from the side.
"Ah, how long will you be visiting if you don't mind me asking?" His attention was now wholly fixated on her.
Her aunt spoke before she could even open her mouth.
"Well, she is actually to remain here in London until she is courted and married," her aunt said, too eagerly. Althea could feel her heart rate beginning to ignite within her. Was this it? Was it already happening? The first man who showed her the slightest bit of interest? A man who was likely as old as her own father? She tried not to show her disdain.
"Remarkable," he muttered, still looking at her as though she were a prized piece of art for sale. She suspected that to him, that was all she was.
"Well in that case Madam, may I have the esteemed pleasure of your company for a dance this evening?" he asked, smiling again, that gold tooth glimmering from the candle lit chandeliers far above as he bowed before her.
She looked to her aunt who widened her eyes as if to say, 'don't look at me you fool, answer the man.’
She cleared her throat quickly then answered, "I would be delighted." The voice that came from her was foreign. It was so light and feminine she hardly recognized it.
He only gleamed, reaching out his pointed elbow for her to grab ahold of. She swallowed, taking it before she could think too hard.
A new melody was just beginning as they found their place in the centre of the crowded ballroom floor. The caress of his eyes on her felt even more prominent now that her aunt wasn’t acting as a buffer between them. She supposed she would have to make her own words now. Althea averted her gaze from him, but found the eyes of others peering at her… and she could have sworn she heard faint whispering around her. Paranoid. She was just thinking too much.
They bowed to each other before he took her hand in his and placed his other hand around her waist, pulling her close to him. She could hear each thud of her heart in her ears as they began.
Her aunt had spent hours upon hours in the weeks since she'd arrived teaching her how to waltz. It wasn't that she doubted her abilities, but when her body indeed moved with ease with each sway from side to side, she felt her shoulders begin to relax slightly.
"So tell me," the lord said, pulling her in close so their faces were mere inches apart as they spun in loose circles around the ballroom, "how old are you?"
She looked up at him. Being this close to him she could see just how many years separated them. She couldn't imagine being any younger than she was now, dancing with this man.
"I'm twenty years of age your lordship," she said loud enough for him to hear her over the music, but still softly.
He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised that she was not yet married at such an age.
"Well my dear, you don't look a day over fifteen."
Althea assumed this was his way of complimenting her, but it only made her feel ill.
"What position do you hold in parliament?" she asked boldly, wanting the spotlight off of her.
He smirked down at her.
"I am a member of the House of Lords. I help pass and deny laws and bills on everything from taxes and tariffs, to whether you women are allowed into certain establishments after dark." He spoke cheerfully as if it weren't his own decisions and the decisions of his fellow members of parliament that kept her from being a free woman.
"And what exactly are your views on that particular matter? The matter of women I mean?" Another bold question but she couldn't help asking. She had never met a member of parliament before, let alone danced with one.
"Well if you are referring to that particular subject, I voted that there are some establishments that women should be deterred from after nightfall," he said. He must have seen the way Althea's eyes squinted slightly, because he continued quickly, "such as taverns, pool halls and brothels, those are no places for women unless of course they are working, and a fine lady such as yourself would never want to be wandering around in one of those establishments."
"And why is that?" she asked, raising a brave brow at the man before her.
He chuckled, clearly finding amusement in this subject. That is what this was to him; a fun little game. She was tired of men believing the lives of women were just silly little games.
"Well they are dangerous of course, you would never want to be in the middle of one of those places, well with all of the drunken men, they lose their sense after too many drinks," he declared. Did he really not hear and understand what he was saying to her?
"Oh I see," she stated, laughing herself now, but not out of amusement, "so because men do not have the common sense not to take advantage of unwilling women, all women should just be banned from entering certain establishments, you really have just put that into perspective for me Lord Herbert. Thank you." The sarcasm was evident in her tone. Her aunt would be roaring with rage if she were here to witness Althea scourging a conversation with someone who may have actually been interested in her.
The song ended just in time, and she needed to get out of this cramped, stuffy ballroom. Only one dance and she could already feel the perspiration forming above her lip. Or perhaps it was the anger that had flooded into her and boiled her blood.
"I think we are quite finished here," she said, turning on her heel to walk away. She only made it two steps before his hand gripped her elbow, stopping her in her tracks.
"My apologies if I've offended you Madam Lezant for that was not my intent. I only meant that a lady should not bear witness to the activities that take place in some of those locations after dark."
She walked out of the crowd of people waiting to dance before turning to him and saying, "and how do you believe a lady should be consuming her time?"
"Well, there are plenty of ways a lady could spend her evening, she could play the piano forte or practise her embroidery, or tend to the babes if she's got any." He shrugged and it was clear to her, now more than ever, that it didn't matter if it was the man standing in front of her or any other man in all of Britain, they all thought the same of women.
"What if I told you that I would rather be catching frogs in a marsh than be standing here, having this conversation with you?"
He let out a laugh, smiling up at the ceiling, that gold tooth glimmering in the light.
"I'd say you'd gone mad, woman," he said, looking back at her and seeing that there was absolutely no humour in her eyes.
"You have gone mad haven't you? Well no matter, you are too pretty to frighten me away with your odd garble." He still smiled at her. She felt as though she'd be sick. This man did not care one ounce of what she was saying to him. She was boldly disagreeing with him in public and all he could focus on was her beauty? She couldn't stand it anymore. Without another word she turned to walk away from him again.
He gripped her arm once more, tighter this time.
"Now just where do you think you’re going?" he asked, raising a brow. She was all too prepared to snatch her arm out of his grasp and run when a girl approached the two of them.
She was not wearing a wig, but instead wore her long hair in curls down her back and shoulders. It rained in golden ringlets, shimmering in the candle light of the ballroom. Althea hadn't seen any of the other girls at tonight's event wear their hair down like that, especially not their natural hair. The girl in front of Althea radiated an aura of warmth around her, like a beacon of light in this now seemingly drab ballroom.
"There you are," she said to Althea, elongating the last word. She had a French accent. The golden haired young girl must have noticed Althea's confused expression because she widened her eyes with extra emphasis.
"Yes I'm sorry, I was just having a brief dance with this gentleman here," Althea motioned towards the man still standing by her side, now looking slightly disgruntled.
"Oh I'm sorry sir but I'll have to steal your dance partner now, her mother has been looking for her everywhere," she said quickly.
"But I thought–" before he could finish, the girl grabbed Althea's hand and pulled her through the crowd and out of the ballroom.
Althea was too stunned to speak, still trying to figure out what exactly had just taken place.
"Sorry if I alarmed you, you just appeared so uncomfortable. I couldn't bear watching that detestable old man make you look that way, so I thought I'd do what I could to help," she said, smiling kindly.
It took Althea a moment to think of a response for the girl in front of her. She was indeed not like any of the other women at this gala. No pale makeup covered her cheeks and her dress was a pale pink satin, not dark and bulky like the dresses most of the ladies attending wore.
"Thank you," Althea said honestly.
There was a small gap of silence before the girl reached out her hand, "I'm Monique." Althea reached out to take Moniques hand.
"I'm Althea."