An impertinent affair

9. The First Dance

"You look beautiful, Elizabeth, just like you mother did during her inaugural ball," Eliza's aunt gushed, her eyes warm with unshed tears.

After hours of unending labour on her aunt's part, countless frustrated mutterings and a hundred alterations on her sapphire colour gown (the one which her aunt deemed almost acceptable after staring at it for half an hour), she had to look beautiful.

And indeed, she did look good, although the sheer waste of so much of time seemed beyond blasphemous to her.

Her originally only-sapphire gown now had pecks of gold strings adorned on it, its previously straight bodice now having dark blue frills over it, making it appear more voluptuous than it really was.

Her unruly, brunette locks, had been expertly straightened and tied up in an intrinsic hair-do, reminding her of the hundreds of hair pins that had been pushed cruelly in her scalp to get her partly curly hair in place.

The sheer beauty of the work got her thinking of the pain she would experience at removing all the torture elements from her head. She shuddered at the thought, adroitly pushing them in the farthest corners of her mind.

Her aunt had gone overboard with taking out the family heirloom, a beautiful diamond necklace, which she had been gifted by her father on her wedding, and placing the priceless jewel on her neck. They could, much to her aunt's and Verena's relief, find a suitable matching pair of diamond studs for the necklace in the jewel boxes Eliza had been sent with, thus perfecting the look.

Elizabeth, while staring at the bizarre beauty that sat it front of her, self-consciously roam her hand on the diamond luxury that now sat upon her neck, a silly fear of somehow losing it looming in her head.

She had to admit, she had never looked so...regal in all her eighteen years as a woman. Her normally dirt-mucked face now seemed spotless, her pale cheeks sporting a very light pink rogue.

Much to her irritation, Elizabeth seemed to almost like the makeover she had been subjected to. It made her feel more...womanly.

More powerful, in an odd way.

The look she had been given didn't seem to hide her inherent qualities. On the contrary, it highlighted them. The very modern neckline of her gown spoke of her bold nature, the sapphire giving her the image of a mystic enchantress-easy to behold, difficult to get. And finally, the necklace on her neck bellowed her regal ancestry.

Of the power she held.

In that moment, it suddenly dawned on Eliza that a sword yielded power. But it didn't necessarily have to be a piece of welded iron-it could also be a crafted diamond.

A weapon could be any- an iron sword, or a diamond necklace.

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How she cursed her stars to have an aunt like the Marchioness! Or else she wouldn't have agreed to wear the dastardly heels. At least, not in this lifetime.

Eliza descended down the marble stairs, her heels clinking on the floor with every step she took. It was the second time in a day that she had been forced to abandon her usual brisk walk and reduced to a snail's pace. It was horrible, and utterly frustrating.

As she was walking down the steps, she saw a couple of ladies making their way towards the main hall. She couldn't help but grimace at the layers of powder the ladies had applied on their face, attempting to look beautiful.

It is a shame that they don't realise that the make up only makes them look like whip-white witches.

She chuckled at the thought.