Chapter 1
“Marianne!” A booming voice echoed in the halls of the Thorne residence, demanding the recipient to revert back to the call at haste. However, the call was graced with naught but silence that could not be found even in the most haunted of cemeteries. Fanny, who was accompanying her dearest mother in an attempt to fix the hems of a table cloth, rested the sorry piece of fabric on her lap, casting a fearful glance from the side of her jade green eyes. Her lips tried to mutter a silent prayer for her eldest sister but before she could finish mumbling a single word of her prayer, Mrs. Thorne cast a sharp glare in her direction, swiftly shutting any attempts to aid her sister even through the means of a prayer.
“Marianne! Come down here this instant!” Silence reigned once again, and it only managed to intensify the anger behind the glare that was being redirected to poor Fanny, whose grip on the table cloth was tightening per passing minute. However, before the tension enveloping the air could grip her throat and suffocate her, the rhythmic thump of light-footed feet descending the stairs diverted her mother’s attention.
“Mama.” Marianne declared, announcing her presence to the two residents sitting near the dining table. “Pray tell me why you are straining your vocal cords on such a beautiful sunny Monday morning? One might almost mistake that the eldest daughter of the Thorne family has finally tarnished the good name of her family by entangling herself in a scandalous affair.” Mrs. Thorne was less amused by her jibes, narrowing her eyes at her.
“Why, there is no need for me to wail about your scandals and reprimand you, given the fact that the whole town knows of the dalliances you engage in every week! In any case, your accursed father has tarnished our name plenty! Bless my dear brother for granting us an allowance for the house’s upkeep. I dare not think about what shall have happened if he had given up on us, we would have-”
“-ended up on the cold streets of London, or worse, I am aware.” Julia didn’t take kindly to Marianne’s interjection, and harrumphed, before rescuing an unremarkable piece of paper from the pile of newspapers and letters crowding the rosewood tea table. She fanned herself with the paper to drive away the heat which her short temper had built inside her, before ushering the paper in Marianne’s direction.
“Now, what new scheme have you cooked up, Mama? I am afraid I feel a smidge of ominous air wafting from this...thing you are pushing towards me. I would appreciate it if you could enlighten me about the contents of-”
“No, I shan’t. Now go on,” Julia leaned forward, seeming eager all of a sudden, “Read the letter for me. Lady Calvert is the sender of this much appreciated letter.” The mere mention of Lady Calvert alarmed Marianne, and she could sense why Mama was setting up this whole charade.
Lady Calvert lived next town, owning the Romney castle and the property surrounding. Although she was not endowed with a talent of needlework, nor with the beauty that soothes a young gentleman’s fiery spirit, her mastery over the pianoforte rivalled even the entertainers that frequented Queen Charlotte’s castle. It was rumored that the view of Lady Calvert’s slender yet steady fingers dancing over the pianoforte had lit the flame of passion in the long frozen heart of Lord Calvert, prompting him to court her solely and marry her in a heartbeat.
Marrying Lord Calvert had only fueled the lady’s love for her art, and his steadfast company had turned her into a bumbling romantic. And hence, to showcase her talents and to aid other youth full of naivete and passion to find love akin to hers, the town was no stranger to the balls hosted in the gardens of her property every year. As Marianne had feared, the letter was indeed an invitation to the first ball of this season’s winter being hosted by Lady Calvert.
“Dear Mrs. Thorne,
Mrs. Calvert humbly requests the presence of Mrs. Thorne and daughters to a ball, on Friday, the 18th November 1809, eight'o clock. Music and dancing.
Romney Castle.
Yours Truly, Lady Calvert. Fin.” Marianne sighed and folded the paper in a neat square.
“Ball...” Fanny mumbled, her mind already astray. It didn’t take much for her mind to escape to the realms of fantasy. Marianne’s auburn eyes landed on her Mrs. Julia, who didn’t seem fazed in the least.
“Mama, may I enquire how did we secure an invitation to a ball hosted by the esteemed Lady Calvert? It is my understanding that Papa’s frequent trips to those distasteful gaming clubs and his subsequent escape from this town had wiped out our family from the good books of this town and lands beyond? Balls were surely out of question too, as a result?” Mrs. Thorne turned up her nose against that remark, and a sharp breath of air escaped as a scoff, reeking of disbelief.
“I have my connections.” Marianne and Fanny’s gazes lingered on her for a moment too long, leading Mrs. Thorne to eventually draw back her white lie in defeat. “A lady cannot even add a tad bit of flair to her words anymore. Fine, I admit the error of my ways. It was a connection. And as you both might have deduced, it was your fair uncle John who had a hand in creating this wonderful opportunity for the Thornes to rejoin the genteel society.” Mrs. Thorne turned to Marianne, a wry smile adorning her pale face which was so devoid of color nowadays.
“I expect you both know of how Jane, John’s daughter, has reached the marriageable age. It is high time for her to debut this season and find a suitable match for her. Alas, though poor John is the most refined gentleman I have ever had the fortune to encounter in my life, he hardly possesses the talents to teach a lady the ways of successfully attracting a suitable suitor. That’s where you ladies come in.” Fanny made a ruse of being deaf, though it was hardly an effective tactic against her stiff-necked mother.
“Mama-” Marianne attempted to convey her reluctance by stomping her right foot lightly on the floor and raising her tone, but Mrs. Thorne was determined.
“Especially you, Marianne. Since you have already married once, and are quite...celebrated by the gents around these parts for your ‘feminine wiles’ as I overheard Mrs. Hoskins describe your talents the other day in the weekly market, Jane could learn some good things from you!”
Any rebuttals against Mrs. Thorne’s thorny jibes wilted away before they could escape Marianne’s mouth, as it seemed that she was left with no choice in this matter whatsoever. Moreover, cousin Jane was a sweet lass whom she could not help but aid in her time of need. Accompanying Jane to the ball might also provide ample opportunity for her younger sisters to find a prospective suitor, if Lady Luck was kind enough to shower her blessings on them. She glanced at Fanny to appraise whether she carried even a smidge of enthusiasm towards Mama’s proposal, but her closely knit eyebrows suggested otherwise.
Well, Fanny wasn’t a lively sort, anyway. Regardless, barring the unwelcome attention some of her former ‘suitors’ might throw her way, going to the ball will prove to be extremely beneficial.
“Alright.” Mrs. Thorne’s eyes lit up at her agreement. “First and foremost, we ought to get our dresses in order first. The dresses must be gathering dust in the wardrobe since we skipped the last season. Elizabeth!” And there appeared Elizabeth, with her wrinkled hands patting her beige apron, without a second’s delay, awaiting her orders.
“How far along are the preparations for the dinner?”
“They have barely begun, my lady. I would need an hou-”
“Cease the preparations at once. We need to rush at the tailor’s post haste to alter some dresses. Mama will tell you which ones we will need to carry. We don’t have much time, the ball is almost upon us!” Elizabeth bowed and accompanied her mother, who could barely contain frolicking with joy. Witnessing her prance up the stairs almost made her chuckle, but she reeled it in. This was no time to laugh at mother’s antics. There was so much more to do, and so little time.
