"Lillian Linton! Come down here right now!" I heard my aunt screech from downstairs. Sighing, I stepped down the stairs to the first landing, dragging my feet slowly to not have to reach that harpy too soon.
"Yes?" I said, once I reached her.
"What are you 'yes'-ing about? We have a ball tonight? Did you forget?! Dress into your ball gown and be down here in 10 minutes maximum!" she shouted.
A ball? Tonight? I seemed to be getting invited to a lot of balls recently. I wondered how I would escape this one...
"Don't look at me like that, young lady! I know what you're planning in that insolent head of yours! I don't care if I have to drag you into that ball, but you will be there!"
Rolling my eyes, I admitted my defeat and went back into the bedroom. Ella was already in her ball gown, and when she saw me she brightened.
"A ball! A ball, Lilly!" she exclaimed. "It's going to be my third ball after that one where..." she blushed a bit. She always blushed, so I didn't really pay much attention to it. "...Edmund and me.. d-danced."
I smiled at the memory. Even though he was a tad too emotional and cheesy, I knew he was a good man at heart.
I went to my closet, which consisted of two dresses, one of them my ball gown. Sighing, I pulled the multitude of infernal petticoats over my head. I had gotten a lot better at putting dresses on - something I don't think anybody noticed.
Ella looked innocently beautiful, as always. Her golden hair, shining in the afternoon sun, looked even better with the white ribbons styled into her hair. My aunt's decent (and rushed) embroidery accented the simple dress she wore. She was the epitome of innocence and beauty - the ideal wife for a man.
My inner feminist scoffed at the idea of marriage - who would want to belong to a man for the rest of their life? I wouldn't marry as long as I lived, I promised myself.
"Lillian! Ella! Why are you taking so long?! Get down here, pronto!" The vengeful harpy screeched.
I plodded downstairs, Ella lightly skipping down after me.
Anne and Maria, my twin sisters, sniffed at me in disdain. I could see it in their eyes - the urge for revenge after that ball where I danced with Lord Dalgliesh and Mr. Ambrose. And the one after that, where I danced with Captain Carter.
I was the perfect picture of a concerned niece drawn by a blind, amateur painter. "You look upset, Anne, Maria. Are you not feeling well? You look quite green."
Turning their noses up at me, they stepped out of the house and into the carriage. I stepped in after them, Ella behind me.
Lisbeth and Gertrude were already inside; Lisbeth excited as always, even after the third ball which she spent alone looking for dance partners, and Gertrude quiet.
The coach rumbled across the streets, approaching Lady Metcalf's ball. Hers were always magnificent ( even if she herself didn't live up to the expectations) with a lot of food and solid chocolate. My mouth watering, I stared expectantly out of the window. I was at least looking forward to that.
I didn't miss the way Anne and Maria kept throwing vengeful looks at me, or how my aunt was looking at me suspiciously.
"What do you look so happy about, Lillian? I still remember that ball which you spent eating chocolate! This time, I'll make sure you dance the night away! And don't you dare say no to a single person who asks you!" she speared me with a glare. However, hers couldn't compare to Mr Ambrose's Ultimate Cold Gaze. I was used to them.
The thought of Mr Ambrose brought me back to nights in the desert, spent cuddling together...
His body enveloping me, warmth spreading through everywhere...
And those forbidden nights in the hotel, as Mrs Thomson...
His mouth a searing brand on mine, wandering hands lighting up my body with heat, desperately throwing off clothes...
Despite the carriage full of relatives and the impending doom of the ball, I felt my cheeks heat. I hoped nobody noticed.
My brain suddenly processed my aunt's speech from before.
Screech! Halt! What did she say?
Dance the night away?
Don't think of saying no to anybody who asked you?
I closed my eyes, groaning.
That's it. I was officially in hell.
*~*~*~^
We stepped into the hall of Lady Metcalf's mansion, the lights from the chandeliers blinding me for a moment.
"Ah! Mrs Brank, Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton, Miss Linton and Miss Linton! Welcome to the ball!" I heard Lady Metcalf say in her fakely warm voice.
After a few moments of small-talk nobody appreciated, Lady Metcalf snapped at a butler to take our coats. We stepped into the main hall, and my eyes instantly searched for the small table with the refreshments.
My aunt glared at me, noticing my eyes. "Nu-uh, young lady! I'll find a nice, respectable man you can dance with! I don't want you getting even fatter with that chocolate addiction of yours." her eyes disdainfully looked at my figure, showing exactly what she thought of it.
"Now, wait a minute! I don't have a chocolate addiction, and I'm not fat! Just generous!" I told her, with a glare of my own.
Ignoring me, my aunt whisked me away and introduced me to a ton of men, old and young, who did indeed dance the night away with me. By the time of the 3rd dance, I was about ready to drop dead.
Groaning, I slid into the chair. Nobody could ask me anymore, right? I'm sure they were already sick of that Linton girl...or at least I hoped so. My legs felt sore all over - that was something I usually reserved for the people who were unlucky enough to dance with me, not myself, thank you very much!- and I felt drained from all the physical torture of ball-dancing.
I never knew my aunt could pick victims for me who were better at stepping on my feet (though, not intentionally) than me myself, but she had succeeded!
I closed my eyes for a moment. The next person who was asking me, I was going to punch in the belly-ticklers!
"Excuse me, Ma'am?"
I opened my eyes to look at the man in front of me. He looked about 25 years old, with straw-colored hair and dark eyes. His face was arrogant.He looked like a man who thought woman had no brains, and that they robotically listened to everything he said. He had badges on his military uniform. Probably some Lieutenant or something.
"Mm?" I said, not having any energy to form words at the moment.
"May I ask for your hand in the next dance?" he told me.
I was about to give him a rude awakening from his delusional world, when I caught my aunt's eye from across the room. She glared at me.
How could an aunt scare me more than a cave full of bloodthirsty bandits? I don't know. But somehow, she did.
"Nnyes."
"Excellent!" He said and pulled up after him with a moist hand.
Ew!
He pulled me onto the dancefloor and stood there twirling me around with his wet hands, while the musicians played the first low notes of the waltz.
The man was a horrible dancer. He constantly tried to pull me along like a marionette on strings, and when I pressed my heels into his feet he didn't seem to have a reaction except a wince or a low curse.
He seemed to think his attempts at making small talk were smooth and swoon-worthy.
Would it surprise you if I said it wasn't?
After that one dance, the Lieutenant/Captain/Major asked me for another. And another. And another. He had an odd look in his eyes, like a predator looking at his prey - and in his polite, cringe-worthy words there seemed to be a hidden meaning.
Finally, the incarnation of hell ended. My legs barely keeping me upright, I dragged them over to the carriage.
****
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Hello!
I hope I did an 'okay' attempt at trying to recreate Sir Rob's writing style! I know the story is kinda slow so far, bu don't worry it will pick up later.
StoppedinTime