Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
‘Are you not excited?’ she asks, not listening to a word I have said, still skipping, still pirouetting, still twirling. She’s making me dizzy. ‘A party at the palace, Eliza!’
Excited? No, I can’t say I am. ‘Thrilled,’ I murmur. Poor Clara. My innocent, oblivious little sister. Does she realise that in a couple of years, she, like me, will be thrust into society and showcased to all potential, suitable gentlemen? Although after yesterday’s lunch and Frank’s shifty mood, why I’m even attending this ball is a mystery. I’m not so much being launched into society, more introduced. Perhaps Papa snapped up the offer of the first notable nobleman. God, what does my future have in store? Frank knows exactly who I will be thrust upon – thrust upon someone and expected to smile, swoon and speak only when spoken to. I grimace at the stark reality of my new life and swallow down the lump spiked by the reminder of my lost one. The life where the possibilities were endless. My dreams were big. My imagination nurtured.
I look down my front, wriggling again. And my garments were comfortable. I know not of one married couple on Belmore Square who are happily married. I pause for thought. No, that is not true. I know of one. Mama and Papa, although they were matched through choice not expectation. Neither were launched into high society because they were not part of high society. Until now. I cannot help myself from worrying that perhaps their happiness may not last. Papa seems so absorbed by the constant accolades from his new gentleman friends. The high praise, each edition of his newspaper providing the perfect topic of conversation at each of the many social events while they drink and smoke. And Mama? Her new status pleases her. My ever-increasing despondency does not. And yet with power for my father comes compliance from his wife. She cannot be seen to challenge him. Not now. So my fate is sealed and to fight my fate would be to fight with Mama and Papa, and I would enjoy nothing less. I wriggle and wrestle with the neckline of my dress again, my bust desperate to break free. Not that I am capable of much fight in this ridiculous garb.
I give up and let the constraints win. My acquiescence doesn’t bode well.
After sitting patiently in a line of carriages that stretched for what seemed like miles, we roll to a stop outside the palace and the footmen approach. My hand naturally reaches for the door, but Father stops me. ‘There are servants, Eliza. You are not one of them.’
I nod, feeling Mama’s wary gaze pointing my way. I look at Frank. He appears completely unfazed by the night ahead. My brother is a handsome man. Tall, athletic, charming. Tonight, he will have the pick of a thousand suitable ladies who will be eager to impress. How will he deal with that, I wonder, because Frank, for lack of a better term, is a terrible flirt. One flash of his boyish grin would have every female within five miles of our home in the country flocking, desperate to win his affections. None did. But they may have won a kiss or two. May have? They most certainly did. I caught him in the woods on more than one occasion. The first time I was unfortunate enough to stumble upon him, I honestly thought he was murdering the daughter of the ironmonger. No one could blame me – she was crying out, after all. It was then, after Frank had pulled up his trousers, chased me down and calmed me down, that he explained she wasn’t yelling in pain, but in pleasure, all while looking rather uncomfortable. I had stared at him with wide eyes. Frank had paled further. Then he’d given me a thorough good talking to about all the things I shouldn’t know about, finishing by warning me of the consequences for a young lady should she succumb to the sin of desire like the ironmonger’s daughter had. Ironically, she became very ill just a few weeks later and died. I spent two years believing she was dead because my brother kissed her. Then I found him with another woman in his arms. And another. And another. None of them died, but all smiled when I warned them they would. The last woman, the butcher’s daughter, obviously thought it kind to sit me down and give me the truth of it. The ironmonger’s daughter died of influenza. I always thought it seemed too tragic to experience such a thing as a kiss and then pay so drastically with your life. Bless Frank for trying. He still believes I think I’ll die if I let a man ruin me before marriage.
Stepping down from the carriage, I gaze up at the front of the palace, inhaling deeply as I do. I can hear the bustle from here, the laughter and chatter.