Proper Princess

Chapter Twelve

"I do not know, Mother." Elizabeth worried. She was looking down at the letter she had been told to write for Count Robert, though I thought it a bit silly to write a letter rather than simply speak to him in person- after all, he was quite pleasant to speak to. 

Mother sighed, leaning over my sister's shoulder as Miss Lancing worked on curling my hair. It was the morning of the Festival that would be held at the Charity School, and it was not only Elizabeth being dressed to the nines. Mother wanted me to look my best, as well, lest there be any men there who decided I was worth their time and approached Father with the intent of courting me.

Being viewed as one of the Festival prizes to be won was supposed to be an honor, apparently.

Elizabeth's hair was already curled, despite the Festival being hours away. She was fiddling nervously with one of her golden locks- a habit I had never seen in her. 

"Now Elizabeth," Mother patronized, standing behind my sister and resting a hand on her shoulder. "You and the Earl have been casually courting for several weeks now. The time has come to move into the next phase- it is time for a formal public appearance together, and such an event is the perfect opportunity."

I thought it a bit inappropriate to use such an event as a public show of courtship. But such was the way of our world. And so Elizabeth was forced to blush and sigh and fidget her way through writing a formal letter of invitation for the Earl to come to the home and escort her to the Festival, arm in arm. Once she had finished writing the letter, Mother swept it up before the wax seal had even fully dried, handing it off to a Butler and telling him to have it delivered with the upmost sense of urgency.

Count Robert arrived just an hour later. He took Elizabeth by the arm, bowing formally to Mother and I, before being accompanied by Michael to the Earl's carriage. I would have to make my way there with Mother alone.

I was not surprised by the dramatic decorations adorning the school when we finally arrived- after all, I had helped plan and set up many of them. Several tents were up, some shielding the food and refreshments from the sun, and some shielding the games from the heat so the people tending them would not grow tired.

The schoolchildren looked far better than they had a week earlier. They stood beneath a nearby tree, singing hymms and the Queen's anthem as people arrived. Already, Father had tended well to them- their cheeks were fuller, filling out now that they were being fed well, and they had been cleaned and put in fresh uniforms- shorter ones, by my request, in which the skirts of the girls and trousers of the boys only reached the knee.

Never again would I allow wounds to be hidden from us in such a way. The uniforms would never cover so much again. Already, I could see that the wounds from the previous abuse were healing- Father had called in the best doctors to tend to the children and change out bandages daily.

By the time I came across Elizabeth and Robert, they were standing at a game booth, throwing balls at tin cans in an attempt to knock them over as Eli, John and Michael watched. They seemed to be having little luck thus far, and Elizabeth was on her last throw when she turned to look at me. Her bored look fell away, and she thrust her ball towards me. "Amelia- take the last shot. Winners of all games are put in a lottery at the end of the day, and a name will be drawn to be given two tickets for a tour of France."

That seemed a bit of an extravagant prize for a festival game booth, but I had to remind myself that this entire event was planned out and funded by the richest members of London High-society. Mother looked pleased, as well, seeming to think that my tomboyish ways and history of winning every sharp-shooter marble game were finally being put to use. 

"Oh, yes," Mother trilled just next to me, patting my hand that held the ball. "Win the game for your sister, Amelia- a tour of France would make for just the perfect honeymoon."