Daughters of Aether

by Nicholas Petrarch

  What was wrong? What had she done wrong?

  Edmond helped her down the curved staircase to the ground floor. Located in the center of the ground floor, the ballroom was filled with youth. It appeared the adults had relinquished this section of the ball to their use, and they danced and chased after one another with revel.

  Many of the girls were close to her age, but she found many of the young men older. Her mother had explained to her that, while daughters were introduced into society at fourteen, the young men of the meritocracy had no standard age of introduction. For them it was a matter of first proving their worth to society. Only then were the doors to these events opened and they were permitted to seek a suitable companion.

  As such, the age difference was surprisingly stark.

  They paused at the edge of the dance floor and waited while the current dance concluded. It was a slower waltz, one which Emmaline enjoyed out of the four or five dances they had taught her.

  “Do you know what they’ll play next?” she asked, turning to Edmond. But Edmond too seemed only partially aware she was there as his gaze wandered the room. Perhaps he already had someone he was hoping would be at the ball? Emmaline concluded.

  Or perhaps he too had lost interest in her.

  The thought settled next to her fears about her father and she sighed as she too watched the groups of youths enjoying themselves. So many strangers in such a small space. It reminded Emmaline just how out of place she was. There was never anything like this in Sorrento, and no amount of preening could have prepared her for it. She’d looked forward to tonight for so long, had prepared laboriously for it all year, yet it was turning out to be one of the worst experiences of her life.

  She watched as an older gentleman conversed with a girl half his age. It was clear in the way the girl stood, and the laborious effort she made to maintain her smile, she was not reciprocating his enthusiasm.

  Emmaline supposed things could be worse and offered a silent prayer of gratitude she already had a companion for the dance. But then the man glanced her way and their eyes met. He gave her a wink, and Emmaline looked away.

  Perhaps she’d spoken too soon.

  The music concluded and Edmond brought her onto the floor as the dancers were exchanged. They found an empty spot near the musicians and waited for the music to begin again. After all the dancers had found their spots the conductor announced that the next dance would be a metronome.

  “Are you familiar with the metronome?” Edmond asked, taking his position.

  “I am,” Emmaline nodded. It was one of the more contemporary dances she’d practiced with Miss Alice, and while it wasn’t her favorite she’d been adequate as a partner. “My governess taught it to me,” she explained.

  “Good,” Edmond said, lifting her arms into a rigid frame as the music began. Emmaline clasped his arms, stepping close as she allowed herself to be carried off in the current of dancers.

  The music advanced in a steady rhythm, and the two traveled in wide rotating steps around the outer perimeter of the dance floor. As they passed by the older gentleman from earlier Emmaline made an extra effort to appear fully engaged.

  “Have you attended many balls before,” she asked Edmond when they’d completed a circuit.

  “Almost three dozen since my introduction two years ago.”

  “That many?” Emmaline asked, surprised. “How does this one compare?”

  “The venue is appropriate, but the company is a bit lackluster.”

  Emmaline frowned. Why did he feel like he had to be so dismissive? She found Edmond’s high opinion of himself grated on her nerves. But she was intent on making the best of the dance so she tried again.

  “Your father seems to think highly of you,” she observed. “I can’t understand why, myself.”

  That got his attention. Edmond’s eyes narrowed as, for the first time that night, he actually looked at her. “I’m learning my father’s business,” he explained. “I’ll own a portion of it myself in a year or two.”

  “And what is it that your father does?” Emmaline asked.

  “He’s a shipbuilder,” Edmond said. “He’s revolutionizing the northern shipping routes. He will halve the time it takes to travel to the eastern coasts of Selaria in a matter of years.”

  “How interesting,” Emmaline smiled. Not so much because of his response, but because she was proud of herself to have finally pulled a semblance of conversation out of him. All it took was to get under his skin a little.

  The dance was picking up speed as the rhythm changed. It rose in half-steps and fell in triplets. Emmaline shifted in Edmond’s arms and their feet kicked across the floor to mimic it. Her dress flared out each time she turned, and she found it difficult to keep her feet free in it. The footwork was getting ahead of her and she tried desperately to catch up.

  Certainly it was a mesmerizing dance to watch at a distance, but it wasn’t long before Emmaline felt the repetitive motions growing wearisome. Her head swam as the swirling image of the background played before her eyes. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to reorient herself, but this was not a practice session and the pace carried on relentless. She was losing her bearing. She tried to keep her focus on Edmond, blocking out what was happening behind him, but butterflies where fluttering in her stomach.

  Then came the part when the dancers parted, and as the pairs pulled away Emmaline was able to steady herself, taking in deep breaths to keep her head about her. It wasn’t made any easier by the corset Anne had tightened around her earlier. She was wanting for air.

  But then as quickly as they’d parted she was back in Edmond’s arms. Everything became a blur again. The faces and bodies raced past Edmond’s head so that she had to close her eyes to fight nausea, trusting in Edmond to be her guide.

  “What is wrong?” Edmond asked, noticing her serious expression.

  “Nothing,” she insisted, not opening her eyes.

  “Do you not enjoy the dance?”

  “I do,” she said. She tried to show it, but even as she did the lightness in her chest rose and fell. “Perhaps it’s just a tad too fast for me,” she admitted, risking a peek.

  “I’m not surprised,” Edmond said. “But, for a foreigner, you try admirably.”

  To her great surprise, Edmond smiled at her. He seemed to find her predicament amusing. “You’ll grow accustomed to the pace in time,” he assured her. “My father always says the quickest way to adapt to something new is to put two feet in.”

  Emmaline nodded, though the sentiment did not comfort her. She wanted to stop. She wanted nothing more than to sit down and let her head catch up with her feet, but the music played on and on.

  And on.

  She clenched her teeth. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Abandoned

  “ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE ALL right?” Edmond asked for the third time, helping Emmaline off the dance floor.

  “Yes,” Emmaline assured him. “Really, I’m fine. It’s just—ugh!” Emmaline’s leg collapsed as a sharp pang shot up her ankle. She gripped Edmond to remove as much weight from it as possible.

  “Goodness, boy! What on earth did you do to the poor girl?” Farley had pushed his way through to the edge of the floor and was there to meet them. Taking Emmaline on her other side, he helped her to a nearby seat just as her father approached. His demeanor had improved little.

  “Worthington entrusts you with his daughter and you maim her?” Farley scolded. “How could you be so negligent, boy?”

  “It’s not so bad as it seems,” Emmaline tried to explain. “I only lost my footing. Perhaps these shoes are too small.”

  “She fell behind in the step,” Edmond explained.

  “Regardless,” Farley snapped, “this is a poor condition to return her in. Is there a servant nearby? You there! Send for a doctor!” he commanded. “I’m sorry about this, Worthington. I really am.”

  “It’s not the first thin
g to go wrong tonight,” Worthington frowned.

  His words sent a pang of self-consciousness through Emmaline as shocking as the pain from her ankle. She pulled her foot back under her dress to the distress of Farley. She didn’t want anyone to worry over her. She wanted no more attention at all. She wanted to be left alone.

  “She shouldn’t put weight on it for the rest of the night,” Farley said. “Even if it’s just a sprain, we don’t want to risk further injury. I should know. Rolled my ankle before in a game of polo coming down off my horse. Fool that I was, I wouldn’t be stopped and played through until the end. Bloody shame someone didn’t stop me. My foot hasn’t been the same since.”

  “I suppose there’s nothing to be done but take her home,” Worthington said.

  “No, father,” Emmaline pleaded. She couldn’t fail him again. Not like this. “Really, it’s nothing. I only need a moment. I’ll be up again in no time.”

  “Are you certain?” Farley asked. “Don’t try to put on a brave face for us now. There will be other balls.”

  “I am certain,” Emmaline insisted. She made a great effort to stand, turning away Farley’s and Edmond’s help. “I’ll just take a moment in the powder room and then I’ll be right back.”

  She marched away, clenching her teeth to ride out the pain of each step. She couldn’t let her father see her suffering. She’d ruin any chance she had of salvaging what was undeniably the worst evenings of her life.

  As she’d come to expect, the powder room was extravagant with large mirrors on most of its walls and great red velvet sofas to sit on. The borne settee in the center surrounded a wide brimmed vase filled with colorful flowers. Girls came and went, either meeting up to chat or stopping by one of the mirrors to make small adjustments to their outfits.

  Emmaline found herself a vacant sofa toward the far corner. She wanted privacy, and while it was unlikely anyone would single her out, she thought it best to send the right messages to discourage it. Setting her shoes down beside her, she lifted her ankle and rested it on the soft cushion. It was quite the ordeal given the volume of her dress, and as she fought to push aside the layers of fabric she felt her cheeks growing hot.

  With a huff of frustration she lashed out, snatching up the hem of her dress and pulling it tight against her chest. It tickled her chin, but she didn’t let it go. She was breathing heavy, her chest straining against the ribs of her corset.

  What had she done wrong?

  The disappointed look of her father plagued her thoughts. Clearly she’d let them all down, even with all her preparations. Her father. Her mother. Miss Alice. They’d all placed their faith in her ability and she’d proved only how poor a woman she made.

  Was she too plain when next to the other girls, perhaps? Or out of fashion?

  She watched the other girls come and go from her spot. They laughed and talked loudly about how their evenings were going. Everyone appeared in the highest of spirits as though nothing could interrupt their bliss.

  Emmaline’s frown deepened. Never had she felt so out of place. Their customs, dances, and even their manner of dress all seemed so foreign and eclectic compared to her home. In Sorrento, things had been simpler. Things had made sense. But here she couldn’t be certain what they expected of her.

  An older girl entered the powder room and Emmaline sat up so that she could watch her more closely. She was elegant and collected, and Emmaline sensed immediately that this girl had convinced the world she was a woman. It was in the way she carried herself.

  And what else? Emmaline wondered.

  She let go of her dress and watched as the young woman adjusted a pin in her hair. She had beautifully curled locks that fell strategically around her face. She had no ribbon or hat to impair them; the movement of her curls and the glow in her face was enough to carry her. Her only ornament she wore around her neck—a pearl necklace. It was just like the one Anne had recommended to Emmaline earlier.

  Emmaline felt foolish for having turned it down.

  Finished with her adjustments, the young woman left again and Emmaline stood and took her place in front of the mirror. Compared to the young woman, Emmaline looked like a child. She touched the silk ribbon she’d used in her own hair. She’d always worn ribbons for as long as she could remember. It had always attracted the right attention, but not tonight.

  She wasn’t just looking for compliments anymore.

  With a tug, she undid the ribbon and let it fall to the ground. Her hair fell looser around her face, framing it like the other girl’s had. Emmaline thought it becoming, but it wasn’t enough. She straightened her back, rising to her toes a little as she tried to mimic the girl’s posture. Her foot protested, but she fought through the discomfort. If she was going to be a woman, then sacrifices would have to be made.

  Just as she was preparing to leave, her eyes fell on the shell necklace around her neck. It was her favorite possession, a memory of a time and place she’d loved so very much. But here it was just an anchor holding her back in her childhood.

  With tender reverence, she unclasped it from around her neck and held it in her palm. She was a young woman now, she told herself as she tucked it into a hidden fold of her dress. There was no more time for sentiment.

  “Where is my father?” Emmaline asked when she’d returned from the powder room. Both Farley and Edmond stood waiting for her, but her father was nowhere to be seen. She craned her head looking for him.

  “I’m afraid your father was called away,” Farley explained. “He said it was a matter of urgency and that it could not be helped. You understand, surely. Your father is quite possibly one of the most influential men on the eastern seas.”

  Emmaline frowned. So he’d given up on her after all. He’d not even given her time to redeem herself. But then her thoughts returned to the night of the dinner party and her poor reaction to the captain. He had given her time, she’d just been too slow to make the change.

  Her distress must have shown because Farley stepped forward to console her. “Don’t worry, my dear. Your father has left you in good hands. Edmond and I will be your companions for the rest of the evening. As long as you would like to stay.”

  “It’s fine,” Emmaline said, raising a hand to stop him. “Please, don’t go to any more trouble on my account. It’s been a difficult evening. If it’s all right, I think I’d rather rest here a while.”

  “Are you certain?” Farley asked. “I assure you it’s no trouble at all.”

  “I am,” Emmaline said. “But thank you for your offer.”

  Farley didn’t seem altogether satisfied with the decision. “Very well,” he concluded. “It’s probably best you don’t overdo yourself. But if you’ll allow me, I’m sure Edmond would be happy to stay and keep you company. That is until you’re recovered.”

  Edmond’s shoulders slumped as he cast his father a look of extreme inconvenience. Again, Emmaline felt her pride wounded.

  “No, please,” she urged. “I’ve already cost him a dance. I would hate to think I cost him an entire evening all because of my clumsiness.”

  Farley looked as though he might object further, but the look of relief in his son was evident enough that he made no more fuss over the matter. “Very well,” he said. “If you need anything at all, do not hesitate to call on us.”

  “Thank you,” Emmaline said.

  Both Farley and Edmond bowed to Emmaline and the two of them finally left her to herself. She watched them go, smiling a little as she saw Farley scolding Edmond. The boy deserved it, and Emmaline secretly hoped Edmond might find the harsher edge of his fathers tongue.

  “What an unpleasant boy,” she declared.

  When they’d passed from sight, Emmaline walked around the outer edge of the room in the opposite direction. It was surprisingly pleasant to be without an escort. She knew it wasn’t considered proper, but she was beyond caring. If her father had given up on her then what reason had she to worry? She was a lost cause.

  Snaggin
g a drink from a passing server, she sipped it without inhibition. The tang of lemon tickled her tongue and went down sweet. She finished the glass and replaced it with another.

  This was her evening now.

  Finding a sofa in a private alcove, she tossed her shoes to the side and took a seat. From there she could see the comings and goings of most everything on the floor without being herself in the public eye. Not that it mattered. She was practically invisible as it was.

  Lifting her feet under her on the cushion, she flexed her foot. The pain had subsided to a steady ache. It really hadn’t been all that bad. The dance had just been too fast. If she’d kept on she was almost certain she’d have been sick all over the floor. She could only imagine what society would have had to say about her then.

  This was the more dignified option, she consoled herself.

  She watched the other guests from her spot as they enjoyed the evening. Prancing and preening as they did, she wasn’t oblivious to the humor in the situation. Here she’d been summoned with the hopes of finding a worthy man to marry. Yet the young men peacocked about with such frivolousness that she was quite certain she would never find that someone here. She had a better chance of finding a man among the docks of Sorrento than she did in these ballrooms.

  Emmaline let out a heavy sigh and confided in her drink.

  “I don’t suppose you’d care for a bit of company, would you?”

  Emmaline snapped out of her thoughts, surprised as she looked up to see the young mechanist. She was even more surprised to see him in a formal—if not slightly outdated—suit. So much so that she sat mouth open like a fish for a few seconds before coming to her senses.

  “No,” she said, scooting over to make room. She blushed as she struggled to untangle her legs from under her.

  Stoddard’s expression fell.

  “Oh,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I see. In that case I should leave you to yourself.” His eyes clenched with his fists. “Sorry to have bothered you.”