“Do you approve, My Lady?” She turned to the maid beside her and smiled.
“Yes, Leah. I especially love the hair. You did great work. Thank you.”
“We are glad that you are pleased, My Lady.” Leah and Rachel chorused, dipping into a low curtsy.
“You may go,” she dismissed, with a flicker of her hand. As soon as they stepped out of her chambers, her sisters too stood as they were done. They all looked elegant and lovely in their attire, and Agnes felt a sense of pride swell within her. She and her sisters were close-knitted and shared a love that was admired by many. It was no secret that they were closer to each other, even their father, more than they were to the woman who bore them.
“Spectacular! You all look exquisite, dear sisters! We are going to knock those gentlemen off their feet again, as always. The ladies shall be green with envy too, I declare!” Isabelle cried happily again, and they all laughed.
Soon, they were in a carriage, heading for Fortham Townhouse where the ball would be held. Agnes had her eyes out of the window, content to let the busy London streets distract her. Isabelle was in her usual chatty mood, and Eleanor had her head buried in a book she had managed to sneak into her reticule. Agnes did not wonder how she managed to see a thing, for she knew her sister knew those words by heart. It was her favourite book, after all. Once they stepped into the ballroom, Eleanore would make her escape into the library and find a new book to busy herself with. In the case that she did not find one which caught her interest, she would be quite content to read “The Memoirs of an Heiress” which she had read a thousand times, over.
Agnes too, had no love for balls. Mostly because she always had to meet and dance with various gentlemen, pretend to care for their tales and jokes, and fake a blush at their outrageous flattery. She had to pretend to be interested in being wooed, when her heart already belonged to another. A sad situation, she reckoned it was. Tonight, she was especially sad because her years of conceived freedom would be coming to an end. Tonight, she would meet Nicholas Stamford, and all would change.
When Mother had called her into Father’s study that day, she had experienced a range of emotions. Anger, sadness, fear. In the end, she had accepted her fate, more for her sisters than for herself. Regardless of how much she did not care for her mother at that moment, she could not deny that there had been some truths in her words. Isabel and Eleanor were getting no younger and could not be married off until she was. It was simply unfair to keep them from being marriedbecause her heart had gone and given itself to someone she could never have.
In truth, she could not deny that this day was long overdue. She could no longer afford to live in her world of fantasy when reality was taking place right before her eyes. Tonight, she would have to dance to its tune. So, you see? How could one expect her to be filled with glee when all she had done in the past four weeks was to mourn the loss of her one true love? The man whom she had loved since she was only a girl of fifteen summers. A fierce love that she had found out to be mutual when she had finally found the courage to confess, at twenty. A love that would never be allowed to blossom into the beauty it could be.
Perhaps, she would have been better off in a black gown. A befitting colour, for her heart’s state.
Chapter 6
As soon as they stepped down from the carriage, Eleanor Birmingham began planning her escape. Oh! How much she hated balls! The only thing she frankly enjoyed about the season and being in London which she considered too packed and polluted was the art and entertainment that it offered. At least, she could go to the bookshop to buy more books and the library to borrow some more. Then of course, there were the theatres which she immensely enjoyed visiting to enjoy plays from her favourite books. She also loved the opera houses which always came alive with the powerful symphony of the orchestra and the singer. If this was all she had to do all through her stay here in London, she would gladly, with all the joy in her heart. Alas, all of those were just side attractions for the season whose main reason were these balls. She could admit that the glamour and glitz could come with amazement of its own, but most times, she found it awfully boring and distasteful in a sense.
Well, there was the fact that these balls were mostly just a show off of class and wealth. Who could throw the grandest ball of the season and draw the largest crowd. It was also a great avenue for gossip as though the ones they engaged in every afternoon in the country were not already enough. There were also the watchers who were always on the lookout for the next scintillating scandal to make the news for the entire season. Give them a field day and what to talk about. The senseless competition of who wore the best dresses and who was the fastest to secure a proposal, engagement, and the most prized of all, a marriage by the end of the season. Should she even mention the peerage, the ton that walked with their noses high up in the air like they had magically been transformed into gods and goddesses, for the titles their names carried, the wealth they owned, and the territory they presided over? The irony was, her mother was right at the top of that food chain. The formidable Duchess of Cambridge whom everyone knew better than to cross. She was only grateful that her and her sisters seemed to have inherited her best traits, in the best of ways.
Of course, the list would not be complete without the throng of gentlemen, from whom she was expected to choose a suitor. None of whom could hold an intelligible conversation that did not include war, the overseas, or how they intended to handle their wife when they married. It was no surprise after all, that the only writer they knew was Shakespeare, and he was revered simply because of the love lines they unwittingly stole from his pieces and used so poorly on naive girls. Those ones would giggle and blush and flutter their lashes at them, happy that the Lords thought so highly of them. If only they would open a book and actually read it, they would know better than to give praises to a man who did not bother to be appropriate with his flattery. Why would any man compliment eyes for being as blue as the stars, when they were actually beautiful glowing ambers? It was maddening, it was indeed, and she could never fathom why anyone subjected themselves to such senselessness for a couple of months, every year.
Eleanore considered herself a lady above all of these, and that was why on days when she could not pretend to be sick to skip a ball, she found her way to a library and buried herself in the world of books which was so much more fascinating and sensible than the real world she lived in. A world where true love reigned, regardless of status and wealth. A world where good won over evil and oppression every time.
As they stepped into Fortham ballroom, she let herself get bedazzled by the elegant architecture. The floor was made of ceramic, quite different from the wooden coverings many used in their homes in this age. Quite beautiful too. It glimmered, reflecting the light that shone atop, from the ceilings. The stairs from which they just descendedwas railed with iron and finely painted wood, and in every corner of the large ballroom she could see strategically placed art pieces, from ceramics, to stone, to wood, to iron works. Right in the middle of the ballroom, a chandelier hung, drawing her attention. It did not matter that she had seen one, hundreds of times. Every time she did, its beauty amazed her. The 20 by 20, double hung sash windows stood tall on each of the walls that faced the stairs. The fine, intricately embroidered silk that draped them had been parted at the middle to reveal a little of the night sky and garden, which surrounded this part mansion. The chairs had leather coverings to make them much more comfortable for sitting, and she appreciated that. She also appreciated the small, lovely drapes that had been thrown over the tables and chairs to add beauty to the overall design. They had all been arranged in such a way that there remained great room for dancing and moving around. From the side of her eyes, she could see two very large tables in one corner of the room, several dishes, carefully arrayed on top of them.
It was obvious, that this ball was also to be a banquet. Eleanore smiled at this. Perhaps it would not be so bad after all.
“You smell food,
do you not?” She looked up at her elder sister and held back a giggle that would have escaped her lips.
“I do. I see it too. Now, I just have to find the library before this ball begins, and I shall be set to endure this night of torture.”
“One man’s treasure, is another man’s garbage, Father would say. I can see a lot of gentlemen already. Ooh Look! I am quite sure that is Lord Archibald coming my way. Dear sister, I do not know about torture. This night already promises to be filled with thrill!”her sister, Isabelle cried in joy and was off the next minute to go meet the Lord in question, halfway.
Eleanor turned to Agnes who had a huge smile on her face as she lifted her shoulders in a small, dismissive shrug.
“You know Isabelle. Always up to one mischief or the other.”
This caused a chuckle to escape from her lips, and she returned her attention to the crowd. Their mother was long gone, floating through folks in their finest wears, greeting and kissing the air, as she expressed glee at finally beginning the season.
It was just her and Agnes left now. Of course, and their chaperone, Miss Louis.
“I do hope she does not lose her virtue before her wedding night at the rate she’s going. Lord knows Isabelle has no thought for propriety. Mother would hate to have a scandal on her name,”her eldest sister commented coolly, sounding unbothered. Eleanor guessed that the likelihood of that happening was slim. Isabelle was flighty and sometimes too flirty, but she was also very sensible.
“It is always about her, is it not?” By her, she meant her mother who was all about status, name, prestige. It made her want to roll her eyes sometimes.
“I beg to think Isabelle is much smarter than we give her credit for. If she did lose it, no one would ever find out. Except of course, the man who would eventually marry her.”It was an obvious joke, and this time, they both laughed, blatantly ignoring the bristling Miss Rosette by their side.
“You would be alright if I left you alone for a few minutes, yes? I would like to see if I can find my way to a library in this big place.” She was already itching to get out of here.
“Of course. Do make certain you do not get lost, I pray thee. I shall busy myself with some snacks until your return.”
“I shall manage just fine. If it would make you feel easier, Ishall enlist the services of a servant in my tour. I reckon I should find one who would not be too busy to help me out in this hullabaloo. Do save some snack for me, sister. Especially the croissants.” Agnes gave her a wink, and she grinned, then took her leave to begin her journey.
As she went about her business, she silently sent a thankful prayer to Agnes for her suggestion, for she knew she never would have been able to find her way through this house without the help of the butler, Samuel. Thankfully, she had found him standing with a little free time on his hands, and he had been more than happy to oblige her request. As soon as they located the library, she thanked him and asked to be returned to the ball. Her mother would want her available for the first two dances at least, to take note of which Lord’s interest she had caught. Later tomorrow, the lecture would begin on how to hold their attention.
A sigh escaped her lips as she rolled her eyes in the privacy of the hallways. She had hoped it would be a while more before the pressure descended upon her. However, with Agnes’s imminent marriage, she knew it would not be far-fetched to believe her mother would not mind throwing three big weddings by the end of the season, if she could manage it.
Mayhap, she could stall like Agnes had. Nonetheless, she doubted that would yield much difference. Something deep inside told her she would never meet the man of her dreams, no matter how long she delayed. The inevitable would happen, for her ideal man was the stuff of fantasies. She unfortunately, lived in the real world.
Chapter 7
Nicholas got down from the carriage and breathed in the cool evening air. He released the breath he had inhaled in a long stream and turned to look at his best friend turned brother, Benjamin Witherspoon. They shared a look that said ‘ready to take on the world’, and began to advance towards Fortham mansion. Carriages lined up and down the street as people continued to swim into the house before him. He had no doubt this ball was going to be packed. It was the first ball of the season, after all. He would rather be anywhere else but here, but he had made promises, and he had to keep to them. They finally got into the mansion, and as soon as Nicholas beheld the crowd, the noise from their chatter and laughter washed over him, and he suddenly felt overwhelmed. How did one ever cope with this madness? Whoever found this thrilling? People packed like sandwiches, discussing little to nothing of importance. He heaved a deep sigh. At least, he had already planned his escape beforehand.
Stopping, he turned sideways so he could look at his friend. He hated the fact that he had to raise his voice higher than normal to be heard over this frenzy.
“I shall be on my way to the library for some quiet time. I fear if I stay in this madness a minute longer, I shall faint from exhaustion. Mingling looks like such a hard feat to accomplish in this unbelievable crowd.”
Benjamin was already laughing and shaking his head at him, even before he finished speaking. It did not bother him a bit.
“You are impossible, dear friend. I had hoped you were joking when you announced it on the ride over, but I should have known better. You finally attend a ball, after missing an entire season, and you would be sitting this one out in a library?”
Nicholas tried to hold back a smile at how amused Benjamin sounded. He reckoned he should know better. After so many years together, very little was supposed to surprise him where he was concerned.
“Benjamin, I have no interest in all of these. You know how socially awkward I can be. I am only here to honour Mother and Father’s wishes, but I hear the introduction would not be for another hour. I met with Fortham junior a week ago, and he boasted of his father’s excellent book collection. If I am to be completely honest with you, I am here more for them than the woman who is to be my wife. I have been eager to step my feet into that library since Fortham spoke of it. Surely, you must understand this.” Nicholas’s barely bridled excitement covered him like a cloak.
Benjamin shook his head, and Nicholas knew what his friend was thinking. How did they ever make it this far, with such drastic difference in personalities? Benjamin was the gentleman of the ball. A bit of a rake, many would accuse him of being. Alas, he continued to insist that it was no fault of his, and that he had been born with an overload of charm which the ladies always seemed to fall for. When they came, pleading desperately that he loved them, Benjamin usually found himself unable to deny them his ‘magic touch’ as he so often called it. It was only sad that after a taste of him, these women seemed to believe themselves irrevocably in love with him. That was where the problem came in. His best friend did not do love, thought the notion silly and impossible to happen to him.
As for Nicholas, well, it was no secret that the future Duke of Yorkshire had already found his first love – books. He knew he was a puzzle to many, especially the gentlemen of the ton. How anyone would choose inanimate objects to the live delight that were women baffled them. It made Nicholas smile. If only they knew how much better his world of books was.
“Frankly? I do not understand, Nicholas. However, I know you, my friend, and I know nothing will stop you from leaving this ballroom. All the better for me, I reckon. One less competition, more women,”he ended, wiggling his brows, causing Nicholas to chuckle.
“They would be your death. You know this, yes? Let me take my leave now. If Mother and Father seek me, you know where to find me.”
“Indeed I do. Buried in lies, when truth is happening all around you. You live a boring life my friend, I must confess, I do not envy you.”
Nicholas did not miss a beat. “Of course you do not, as long as Mother’s love is not in question. And they are called fiction, not lies.”
“So, so, so, if it’s not making any sense, it’s gibberish. See you later,
Stamford.”
“And you too, Witherspoon.” He tipped his hat in his friend’s direction, and in one swift move, fixed it back upon his head.
Benjamin gave him a curt nod, and he turned to leave, assured that his absence would not be missed. He could also trust Benjamin to remain in the ballroom long enough for Mother and Father to get across to him, whenever he was needed. It would have been just as easy to keep an eye on time, himself. Not that he would not try to, but he also knew that once he started flipping through the pages of a good book, he tended to lose cognisance of all else.
A Scandalous Love for the Enticing Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 5