Toast of the Season

❀ Chapter 2 ❀

❀ Miss Elizabeth Cavendish ❀

I look at myself in the mirror and sigh. I definitely won't be making a positive impression at my first ball. My cousin, Beatrice, has kindly loaned me a ball gown, but we surely have differing tastes in fashion. Mustard yellow does nothing for my complexion. The Tufton's lady's maid is busy arranging my aunt and cousin's hair so I was left to style my hair on my own. For many girls this wouldn't be such a daunting task but I have thick black unruly waves. My attempt to tame them has resulted in an asymmetrical pile atop my head and I can see more pins than hair from the front. If I hadn't worn my hair wildly tumbling down my back for my whole life, I might have some idea how to fashion it. I can only blame myself.

I grab my familiar spectacles and feel the comfort of the chain around my neck, even though I can see perfectly well without them. I got into the habit of peering over the rim of them perched on my nose when I was younger. No doubt I was trying to look scholarly like my father. I vividly remember assisting him with his scientific experiments in his study, his glasses on the end of his nose as he analyzed the results. Now that my father has so recently passed away, anything from home is cherished. Some might be shocked that I'm not wearing black tonight, since I should be in mourning. But when you are given a month to find a husband or get a position to support yourself for the rest of your life, priorities favor mustard yellow. And my father would support any action needed to continue with my science inquiry so I know he would not be offended.

A maid enters the room and curtsies, "The family is waiting for you downstairs, Miss."

Not wanting to keep them waiting long, for I am sure to have another lecture, I grab my old familiar grey shawl and quickly make my way down the stairs and out to the carriage. 

I am helped into the coach by a footman. My Aunt and Uncle Tufton are sitting on one bench inside the carriage and I slide in next to my dear cousin Beatrice on the opposite side.

For a country girl, I have to say that leaving to go to a ball at ten in the evening seems extreme. Why not have the dance in the afternoon, at a decent hour of the day? Not that I usually go to sleep early, it is just that I usually like to curl up with a book in the wee hours of the night.

"My gown looks lovely on you, Beth!" Beatrice gushes. My cousin is eighteen and this is her second season. She required all new dresses this year since the styles have completely changed since last year. To my untrained eye, however, the styles look the same. I tug at the waist of the yellow dress a bit. My Aunt Tufton graciously paid to have it taken in. But I think alterations must be a difficult task judging by how ill the gown fits me still. I honestly wouldn't know because I've never sewn a stitch in my life, much to the disappointment of my aunt. The study of math and science always seemed more appealing to me than learning to sew. 

"And look at the pretty white border added to the bottom. It now covers your ankles!" Bea is sweet to try to be positive about what must be the most hideous gown I have ever seen. It will be obvious to everyone that the dress was lengthened in the most brutal way possible.

But I remind myself to be grateful that I have a gown to wear at all. I was only allowed to pack two trunks when I was ejected from my father's estate. And with so many science journals to take, I had very little space for clothing. Which is of no consequence, since I've never owned a gown suitable for a ball anyway. A few serviceable dresses was all I ever had need of, as we almost never had company to our little country estate in Cornwall.

My Aunt Tufton looks at me and I see from the glint in her eye that I will yet again be lectured, her current favorite pastime. "Elizabeth, do not forget your manners this evening. No lady talks of math formulas or gravity or any such offensive topics. It would make you seem quite dull. Keep your conversations light and positive. Comment on the arrangements and the dance. Smile and nod. You only have a month, so there is no time for mistakes!"