Emmeline didn't want to be here tonight. She had already had a tiring week as it was without attending a social gathering. That being said, it was made slightly better by the fact that it was Katrina's mother who was hosting the ball, Lady Theresa: a slightly too eccentric woman for her modest tastes, but she liked her, nonetheless. Emmeline had been to Katrina's house many times over the years; their mothers had been friends and so they had practically known each other their entire lives. She knew her way around their home quite well. She knew all the little private hiding spots, knew where to stand in a room to better eavesdrop – not that she would, of course, ladies do not eavesdrop, or so she led her mother to believe – she knew where to sit in the library to not be seen as she escaped from the tedium of society with one of the many books.
That was where she wished she was now – or anywhere else in the house for that matter. But, as it was, she was stood in the centre of the ballroom surrounded by the sound of chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, all of which were almost completely drowning out the sound of the music making dancing almost impossible.
She wished it was impossible, but Emmeline had learnt from a very young age that magic and wishes and all the things of fantasy were not real. No guardian angel, no magical realm hidden in the bushes, no faeries, no fairy godmother (the closest thing she had has Heide, her maid, a lovely woman of 4 and thirty who had been with her since she was five years of age) and definitely no prince charming to save her from whatever danger she was foolish enough to get herself into. And she had most wholeheartedly concluded, by the age of seventeen, that love was just as made-up as dragons and wizards. How else would you explain her current situation? For surely, if there was such a power in the universe as love, why was she stood here in her twenty-seventh year, dubbed a wallflower, with never so much as a love note let alone a love letter, all the while facing the prospect of dancing with the man she had been told to marry.
Ordered was probably more accurate.
For a woman who knew love did not exist, she was not opposed to marriage as a concept; she understood the advantages, the idea of spending the rest of your life with someone you trust and have faith in and at the very least the ability to have interesting conversations, even if love was never considered a factor. She also understood the more common reason for marriage amongst those she shared social status: business. She understood and saw the logic behind high society marriages being business transactions and deals between the families – whether that be for general wealth, the inheritance of properties, the doweries, or the exchanging of aristocratic titles.
However, none of that would be the case for her marriage – except, of course, for money.
The man, her betrothed (a very thought which made her shiver and want to flinch away in revulsion), was Sir Winston Baldry, a man older than she. While not opposed to the idea of being married to an older man, she had decided that a man almost three times her age was too old. Yes, he was wealthy. Yes, he was willing to look past her family's financial problems. No, he did not seem like a bad man. No, neither did he smell foul, nor did he look like an ogre (the only magical race Emmeline had concluded had existed at one point in time as Lord Brown was definitely a direct descendant). Yes, they were in the same social class. Yes, this marriage – from a completely logical and non-biased viewpoint – made sense.
That did not mean he was right for her.
He hardly spoke, seemed permanently displeased, and in many ways, he reminded her of Ebenezer Scrooge, but the truth was she hardly knew him – not that she wanted to. Not that she needed to either – her parents, for example, hardly shared words but their marriage was functional. It may not have been love, but it was a good deal for both parties.
Emmeline and Sir Baldry were already halfway through their 'agreed' upon five-month 'courtship' period given to her by her father after the fuss she made when he informed her of her impending doom.
"But father, I have never seen the man," she had said, but knowing her father would not appreciate emotions impeding business she added, "And, additionally, it is known around town that I have never had any interest shown on me, and so a sudden marriage announcement will create rumours." And so, her father, not wanting any scandal further scandal to be attached to their name, announced over dinner the day following their conversation that he thought it best they had a courting period.
Thus far, their 'courtship' involved at least one conversation (normally stating what the weather was like and that was all), very silent afternoon tea in her drawing room once every fortnight, the occasional eye-contact-nod across the ballroom (all of which they had both attended for the last two and a half months, but not together) and now, to top it all off, they were expected to dance together. The only consolation she had, however, was the fact that he seemed to be as displeased about dancing with her as she did with him. She supposed their marriage may not be quite so awful as she originally thought: if he despised outings as much as he seemed to, they would hardly be forced to play husband and wife at gatherings for society's benefit, and she knew from her parents that once people married, they need not see each other again for days. She could live like that. Aside from the occasional dinner, they wouldn't need to ever be in the same room.
Apart from the wedding night. She shuddered inwardly at the realisation. With two older brothers who did not care to keep their more intimate discussions quiet, she was hardly unaware of what happens between men and women behind the closed doors of the bed chamber. The exact mechanics were still lost on her, but, one did not need to know exactly how gravity worked in order to know about it.
Children, also, would not necessarily be a prevalent part of their marriage either. Sir Baldry already had an heir in the form of his son George of five-and-twenty. However, Emmeline knew her parents would push for her to give him another. Not because they wanted grandchildren – no, her parents were not that sentimental – but to ensure their daughter received some share of his money after he began to decay in the ground.
They gave each other the customary greeting of respect: him a slight bow and her an awkward curtsy. Emmeline was very thankful that it was not a waltz; she shuddered at the idea of him holding on to her in that intimate way. She shuddered at the thought of anyone holding her in that way. The music began and the other couples began to move. She tried to block out the entire affair from her memory as it occurred, but there was something about the feel of his hand through her glove that brought her to the present with a sickening thud.
The dance seemed to last an age before they had lined up once more in their original positions. He bowed, she curtsied, and they walked away from each other to opposite ends of the ballroom without so much as a word being spoken.
She slowly made her way through the crowd towards the balcony where she had spied her friend. If there was anyone here tonight that she could count on to cheer her up, it was Katrina. Everyone loved her. Whenever she walked into a room the candles seemed to glow brighter. Flowers bloomed in her presence as if being given a second chance at life. Sometimes she was envious of Katrina; she was several years younger than her, had no cause of concern, no reasons to worry, a family who loved her unconditionally and had the privilege of being able to reject her many suitors without worrying she would ever be a spinster.
Katrina would never marry a man like Baldry, and nor would she have to. After all, it wasn't her father who had lost nearly every penny they owned on a risky speculation and now was having to sell off his only daughter to rectify the problem. It was just a business deal, and she was the product.
Katrina Davenport looked like a beautiful spectre standing in the shadows of the balcony. Emmeline had thought she saw something move in the darkness surrounding her friend, but she was far too sensible to allow herself to believe in the supernatural and she knew her friend far too well: if there truly was anything or anyone there, Katrina would have reacted – and Emmeline remembered the way she reacted to that mouse last week.
She joined her friend, leaning over onto the cold stone wall and peering out over the gardens. The sky was clear, stars flickered above them, the moon giving them just enough light to see with. A warm summer breeze danced over her bare arms as the fallen tendrils of her cinnamon hair tickled her face.
"It is normally me who seeks solace on the balcony, not you."
Katrina smiled, turning to face her slightly, "Yes, I suppose it is." Her mind seemed elsewhere tonight, she was normally so lively, so chatty.
"Is there something the matter?"
"Hmm?" Katrina shook her head as if trying to bring herself back to reality, "Oh, it's nothing. I'm fine." She smiled at her again, this time seeming more like her usual cheery self, "Surely it should be me asking you that question."
Emmeline almost immediately began to feel more comfortable. The rather scandalous way in which Katrina sounded as though she was flirting which everyone when she spoke always warmed her heart somehow. For the first time that day Emmeline smiled, a real genuine smile.
"I had to dance with Sir Baldry."
"No! Truly?"
She nodded, "Truly."
"I do not envy you, Emily. I truly do not." It always made her feel better knowing that her best friend understood how she was feeling. Her mother and father did not care that she hated her match, and her brothers ignored her whenever she tried to talk to them about it. For, after all, there was no logical reason to reject him.
"There are worse men to marry, I suppose." She turned to the ballroom, the cool stone pressing against her lower back, "There is always Lord Brown."
"Oh, good heavens no!" Her friend shrieked in disgust, "How could you even joke about that?" Katrina paused, also turning to survey the ballroom, "I feel sorry for Miss Stewart."
"Fanny Stewart? Why?"
"Brown has set his sights on her."
"No!" Gossip always made her worries melt away.
"Yes. I am certain of it. He even asked my mother – very discreetly – if there was any possibility he might be sat near her at dinner."
"No! Really?" Emmeline let out a small laugh of disbelief.
"Oh, yes" She paused, "And what's more, when my mother said no," She paused again briefly, turning to her friend grabbing Emmeline by the arm for added effect and dramatics, "He asked her to be moved next to him!" Katrina cried, joyous in the sharing of gossip.
"No! I cannot believe it! Poor Miss Stewart." They laughed. Some of the people nearest the door turned to look at them, appearing appalled at their inappropriate behaviour, unbecoming of two gentlewomen. Not that they cared. Her parents would not see, and no one ever took the time to firstly find her father and then inform him of her behaviour.
Katrina laced her arm through hers, "Do not worry. I asked Mamma to move you to. You were to be sat next to Baldry, but he has been moved away and you moved next to me!"
Some weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "Thank you, I had not even thought about dinner placements."
They stood there in silence for several minutes, watching the other people inside, their conversations, the dancing, the lonely people. The night air was cooler than she had thought when she first stepped outside; it was not unpleasant or cold, just cool enough to be bearable with the shared body heat of herself and her friend.
Emmeline sighed. "Well, come on then. Out with it. Tell me all the recent gossip, you know how much I live for it these days."
At her request, Katrina seemed to come to life as if she had been waiting for the opportunity to share what she had heard as if she was going to burst at the seams any minute if she didn't say anything.
"Oh, where to begin! The most scandalous first, obviously." Her arms slid out from Emmeline's, allowing her to express herself more thoroughly with her hands, "Well, I overheard Mamma and Aunt Smith talking in the parlour yesterday about how Sir Watson's eldest son was caught in the chambers of a young lady," She gave Emmeline a brief look which meant that there was something more to the story than where she had briefly paused, "Only to find that there was no young lady, just another man!"
Emmeline was not one of those people who involved herself in the personal affairs of others. To her, people should be allowed to be with who they wanted to be with, love who they wanted to love – if it existed – no matter who they are, but she acknowledged that others did not view it the same way. Nor was it a topic she had ever debated Katrina on either.
"Really," she couldn't help that she sounded less than pleased, "How scandalous. Who was the other man?"
"No one knows. He fled." At least one person was saved from the persecution of society.
"What else...? Brown you know about.... Ah yes, The Northerner!"
"The who?"
"The Northerner. He came to town recently with his sister; it is her debut in society, you see – although, she does seem older than most."
"Not as old as me," mumbled Emmeline, more to herself than Katrina who took no notice of her.
"Look. There they are. Over there." She pointed to the fireplace where a group of gentlemen stood in deep conversation, and then to the people dancing. "The girl with the yellow dress, do you see her? That is the sister-", she raised her chin towards the gentlemen, "and the one with the red waistcoat and cravat, and dark hair is the brother. I think she's quite plain, don't you? But I am sure she will be married soon."
"Why is that?"
"She is very rich. Her brother owns a cotton mill-"
"Cotton mill?"
"Yes, yes, I know what you are thinking. But Pappa said that the industry is growing and creating a lot of profit. I also overheard Pappa say that he had recently profited greatly from a speculation......"
The rest of what Katrina said did not reach Emmeline's ears. As soon as she heard that word – speculation – she was brought back to the crushing reality of what the rest of her life was going to be and why it was going to be. Speculation.
"Yes, speculation," Emmeline wasn't aware she had said that last word out loud, "Oh, Emily, I am sorry. I completely forgot. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine Katrina, truly." She lied, "It is behind me." Another lie. The truth was it would never be behind her; she felt angry and betrayed by her father, but she did not hate him for it. It was business and speculation: one man will always profit from the loss of another and that was the nature of the game – that is what it was, after all, a game. Gambling, only with a lot more at stake. No, what she hated her father for was forcing her to marry a man like Baldry.
"But you do agree with me though, right?" Her friend gave a flirtatious tug on her arm.
"I'm sorry?"
"Were you listening to what I said?" She wasn't given the chance to answer, "I said, do you not think he looks quite handsome? From a distance at least, I do not think he is quite so good looking up close."
"Katrina! You are the worst!"
"Well?" Her friend laughed, "Do you agree with me?"
She thought the prospect over. It was true, from here he did look like a very aesthetically pleasing man: he appeared to be slightly taller than average height, was slightly less well-built than her brothers and his uncut charcoal black hair brushed the brushed against the very top of his shoulders. And wealth never hurt either. But he was not extraordinary, or at least so she thought, but, then again, she rarely thought any man was handsome least of all extraordinarily so.
A small flutter of panic rose in her stomach as the Northerner's eyes flicked up towards her across the crowded room. She looked away, shifting uncomfortably with embarrassment at the thought of being caught staring, but she reminded herself that it was unlikely he saw her. Out her, partially draped in shadow, across a crowded room and through a window it was unlikely that he could see her at all.
"He is not a bad looking man -". She didn't have to look at her friend to know what she was doing; she could feel the wide teasing grin stretching across Katrina's face.
"Oohhhooo," she teased.
"- but neither are any of the other men in that group –"
"-I think you like him-"
"- but that is saying nothing when the alternative is a man like Baldry!" She laughed again slightly out of shock. How a gentlewoman could speak in such a manner would always be a thing of wonder to Emmeline.
Katrina began to laugh again, "It is a good thing you like him-,"
"I do not like him-", she protected in vain as their attention was drawn to some movement over by the doors to the ballroom.
"-because you will be sat with him at dinner."