"The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself." Mark Twain
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XI.
The date for the ball was set for three weeks' time in the first week of July. Invitations were promptly sent out, and Perrie was promptly swept away to London by her grandmother to have a dress fitted.
Adam had vehemently denied his mother permission to take Perrie to London, which Cecily had interpreted as fervent approval.
"He's in denial, darling," her grandmother informed Perrie dismissively as they were jostled about in the carriage. "Best we help him to get used to the idea a little at a time before we launch you upon society next April."
"I don't know if I like the idea of being launched, Grandmamma," Perrie murmured. "It makes me sound an awful lot like a ship."
Cecily chuckled. "And you shall be the grandest and the most beautiful of all the ships, my dear. Trust me. My friends and acquaintances number half of London society, and the up-and-coming debutantes have nothing on you. Several young ladies that I know of are said to have inherited the noses and chins of some of the most unfortunate gentlemen of your father's generation. Lady Lucinda Strachan resembles a Habsburg, poor girl."
"Grandmamma!" Perrie cried, thankful that they were in the privacy of a carriage, and so they would not be overheard.
"Oh, dear, I am too old to mind what I say, and too influential to care what others think," Cecily said dismissively.
"I should hate to think what other people will say about Lady Perrie Beresford," Perrie retorted, thinking back to what Mrs Liscombe had written in her report after leaving school. "I will make a terrible wife, Grandmamma." Perrie had known that for quite a while. Perhaps she had known that she would make a terrible wife since before attending finishing school. She lacked the grace and temperament of her mother. Without that, she highly doubted that anyone would ever love her as much as her father loved her mother. And Perrie didn't want to get married without love. But love, itself, seemed like such a foreign phenomenon. The unknown, truth be told, was a little frightening.
Cecily scoffed, shaking her head. "One day I will tell you about the years I held London under my thumb the first season your mother was out. Nobody would dare gossip about my granddaughter."
"But you are gossiping about other people's daughters!" Perrie shot back.
Cecily's brows furrowed, as though she did not understand the connection. "Darling, what I say goes," she said simply. "Fear not about being a good wife, anyhow. If you are a terrible wife, like I was, take comfort in the knowledge that you will be an excellent grandmother instead."
Perrie received no comfort. She sighed before looking out the window at the passing countryside. Perrie knew that she needed to get better in every sense before it came time to debut. Despite her grandmother's confidence, Perrie knew that she was far from the ideal. She was not so naïve as to not know that she was very indulged at home. Her parents were firm, but very loving, and Perrie knew that she had suffered very little in the realm of consequences.
Because of this, Perrie was very aware that her temper and instinctual behaviour were unladylike, and probably very unattractive. She did not have a Habsburg chin, but she could not sit at a pianoforte and perform for hours either.
If a husband wanted a wife who could torture him in varying humorous ways, then Perrie knew she would have to fight away the suitors.
Perrie knew, deep down, that she really wasn't enough just as she was. She knew that nobody could really love her, and yet her behaviour felt like an ingrained part of her personality that she couldn't change. She knew that she should have taken better care at finishing school, but Perrie had hated every second of it. She was impulsive and headstrong and was the furthest thing from a calm and demure society milk cow.
She was a fiery milk cow. Perhaps she would produce hot milk. Oh, if Joe could have heard her thoughts in that moment, then he would have tormented her with his teasing.
Joe had answered exactly zero of her questions in the few days since he had told Perrie about the deafness he suffered in his left ear. Perrie had not incessantly asked about it, but she had tried to speak to him about it the following day just in case he'd changed his mind about telling her.
Therein showed Perrie's impulsive lack of tact, as she could see that it annoyed Joe to be asked, and he likely regretted telling her about his deafness. Joe had dismissed Perrie harshly, which had triggered an immediate reaction from her at being spoken to in that way. She had snuck into her father's study before breakfast and had smeared adhesive all over his chair.
Perrie had suffered the same fate when she had sat down for dinner that evening. Joe had appeared very pleased with himself.
"I will be a terrible wife, Grandmamma," Perrie said again, firmer this time. "If my husband ever looked at me the wrong way, I would probably put pepper in his tea." Who would ever love someone like that? Nobody.
"Pepper is good for the sinuses," Cecily replied confidently. "Now, stop this nonsense."
"The truth isn't nonsense," Perrie insisted. "Don't you think I ought to be a bit more like Mama?"
Cecily's eyes softened as she sighed. "Everyone could stand to be a little bit more like your mother, myself included," she agreed. "But I won't have you beating yourself into whatever shape you think best fits the mould of a society wife."
Perrie knew that she did not have the talent or patience to mould herself into what others expected of her. If she did, then she would have returned from Mrs Liscombe's ready and waiting to be a perfect spouse. She also did not have the desire to be that type of woman. Which left, again, with the fear that nobody would ever love her the way that she was. Who could?
"Do you really believe that you were a terrible wife, Grandmamma?" Perrie asked curiously, her voice soft and tender. She really knew quite little about the marriage of her grandparents, save for the fact that it was an unhappy one. And yet, every year without fail on the day after Christmas, her grandmother made the pilgrimage down to the tomb where her husband rested to spend time with him alone.
"Yes," Cecily confirmed almost immediately. She took a breath, before she said, "Yes," again. "I was a terrible wife to your grandfather, the same as he was not a very good husband to me. But I never gave him the chance to be a good husband, the same as I never made an effort to be a good wife. But we made our peace in the end, and Perry departed this life as someone who was very dear to me, and I'd not realised."
Perrie wished that she had been able to know her grandfather, her namesake. Both of her namesakes.
"I see a lot of myself in you, Perrie," Cecily continued. "But what you don't have is my spite, and I am thankful for that. Because of that, I know that your marriage, whenever it may be, will not be the same as mine. But for the love of God, please do not make me wait as long as Susanna did to see you as a bride."
***
Perrie and Cecily arrived at Ashwood Place that evening. Upon unpacking her trunk, Perrie was greeted with a rough sketch on a folded piece of paper. It was very poor, indeed. The artist was not clearly an ... artist. But it was of a female figure wearing a dress, and it looked as though it was meant to resemble a dress design. The artist had not bothered to draw beyond the silhouette, because the real joke was in the numbers scrawled.
Measurements for Little Imp Beresford
Shoulders: something.
Chest: imaginary.
Waist: no idea.
Hips: don't care.
Overall height: three inches.
Perrie immediately threw the drawing in the fire, cursing stupid Joe under her breath, knowing that he must have had a real chuckle. What was infuriating was that she was now miles away and could not go and dig up worms and put them in his bed.
Oh, that was a good one. She would have to remember that for when she returned home.
Perrie stopped herself from plotting momentarily and wondered if Joe's presence was what was fuelling her own doubts about being any good at what was expected of her. It really was his fault that she was as impulsive with her reactions as she was. Stupid Joe. Just because he was deaf, it did not mean that Perrie felt at all sorry for him because he was still horrid.
Of course, she was still terribly curious, but he was still just as horrid.
Perrie and Cecily left bright and early the following morning to Belle's shop in Mayfair. The city was completely alive with the thrills of the Season, and Belle's shop was filled with ladies out to purchase the latest fashions for the upcoming parties and balls that were taking place every other night.
Perrie might have only been a year or two younger than the ladies in Belle's shop, but she felt positively infantile beside them. They looked so proper, so mature and elegant. All of them stood so perfectly, laughed so musically, and held their heads at just the right angle so that their beauty could be appreciated.
Perrie probably appeared very infantile, owing to the fact that her dress was hemmed at her ankles, showing her young age. Cecily had already informed her that they would travel to London sometime after Christmas to order an entire new wardrobe of full-length gowns before the Season. She confidently proclaimed that they could order the gowns several months in advance as there was no danger of Perrie growing.
Perrie, again, was glad that Joe was not present to hear that comment.
She had never been to Belle's shop before. She had only been to London a handful of times with her father, and Adam had never thought to take Perrie to a dress shop. Belle had made several dresses for Perrie before, but her measurements had always been sent from afar.
"Your Grace!" an older, distinguished lady suddenly appeared before Cecily and Perrie, draped elegantly in green silk and was adorned with heavy emeralds at her neck and ears.
"Countess," remarked Cecily. "How lovely to see you."
"My maid brought me your invitation this morning. It will be an excellent break to journey into the country after all the calls and attention my Lucinda has been receiving."
Habsburg Lucinda? Perrie chastised herself for even thinking such a thought.
"Oh, how lovely for Lucinda," Cecily mused cheerfully. "Well, I hope she chooses quickly and does not have to compete with my Perrie next year."
Her grandmother had an extraordinary talent for saying one thing and meaning another. Other times, she would just say exactly what she was thinking and would not care about the consequences. After all, they did not apply to Cecily Beresford.
Lucinda's mother appeared affronted, and she looked over Perrie with a quizzical, disapproving expression. Perrie felt especially little.
"Countess, allow me to present the eldest child of the Duke of Ashwood, Lady Perrie Beresford. She is to debut next Season but will be making an informal appearance at the ball I am hosting. I fully expect a few young gentlemen to wait for Perrie's formal debut upon seeing her in her dress."
Something told Perrie that this countess was not a particular friend of her grandmother's. Perrie subtly took a step behind her grandmother to escape the inspection of this woman who was clearly comparing her to Habsburg Lucinda. Oh, Grandmamma! Perrie wanted to slap her forehead.
"You might be out of luck in such a time frame, Your Grace," murmured the countess. "Your ball is only three weeks away and that is not a lot of time to secure a dress from Belle Desjardins, even with your means."
Cecily chuckled in an entirely condescending way. "How fortunate we are then that my Perrie is Belle Desjardins' favourite niece."
The countess' eyes widened. She had clearly not been aware of that fact. Even if Belle were not Perrie's aunt, Perrie had complete confidence that her grandmother could convince anyone to do anything.
"Madame Desjardins always reserves her most special designs for such perfect canvasses as beautiful Lady Perrie."
Perrie felt a hand on her waist, and she jumped, before she recognised the golden eyes of the gloriously pretty, dark-skinned woman beside her. Perrie did not think before she threw her arms around her aunt.
"Perrie!" cried Belle as she returned the affectionate gesture. Perrie had always loved how Belle pronounced her name. It sounded like 'Paris' in French.
"Thank God!" she hissed in Belle's ear.
"I didn't know you were coming to see me!" Belle replied jovially, loud enough for Cecily and the countess to hear.
"Perrie is after her very first ballgown," Cecily said proudly. "Something that is perfectly Perrie."
Miniature, Joe would have said had he been there.
Perrie unwittingly scowled. Had he so affected her that she had begun insulting herself on his behalf?
"Your first ballgown. How exciting!" Belle remarked, though upon inspecting Perrie's face, she frowned a little. "Do excuse us, ladies. I have some new designs that I would like to show Perrie to give her some ideas." Belle slipped her hand inside Perrie's and began to guide her away, just as Cecily started to brag about the preferential treatment that Perrie would receive.
Belle led Perrie through her back room and out into a little courtyard at the very back of her shop. It was a very small square of pavement that was encased by four brick walls.
"I'm not good at any of this!" Perrie suddenly stressed. "I keep telling Grandmamma that I will be a terrible wife and I don't think she understands fully. The only thing I am good at is torturing Joe Parish and even then, he is better at it than me! He has me insulting myself now! You won't make me a miniature gown, will you? I'm bigger than three inches! I might even grow a bit more if I try to stretch a little each day."
"Perrie," breathed Belle calmly. "Be still for a moment." Belle reached out and settled her hands on Perrie's shoulders, and she encouraged her to take a deep breath. "Believe it or not, this is not the first time I have had this conversation today."
Perrie frowned. "Other girls have thought about stretching to make themselves taller?"
Belle laughed softly. "No. Other ladies are worried about exactly the same thing you are. Marriage. Everything that goes with it." She smiled encouragingly.
"I don't feel remotely good enough to be married yet." The words tumbled out of Perrie's mouth clumsily.
"Good enough?" repeated Belle with a furrow of her brows. "How so?"
Perrie huffed. "Well, I've only known one boy, or man, in my life thus far who I am not related to. And I make him miserable by just being myself. Of course, I do deliberately try to make him miserable as well, but he honestly deserves it." She chewed on her bottom lip awkwardly. "I'm not any good at being what they want me to be."
"Ah yes, we have all heard about your adversaire," Belle mused with a small smile. "Perrie, you have such fortune in that you have choice. You will come to London inevitably, but you have no pressure to wed. You can please yourself, and you will find someone one day who loves you as you are. Changing yourself to suit another is never an acceptable reason for transformation. If you are lucky, you might even grow with someone. Figuratively." She lifted one of her hands to Perrie's cheek. "You need a little of your grandmother's confidence. I also highly doubt that you make this boy as miserable as you think you do."
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Hope you enjoyed it!
Crises of confidence and self-esteem can happen to anyone, even people who seem like they've got no reason to lack confidence, as to people on they outside, they're perfect. This in Perrie was honestly inspired by my own experience, and this will probably make me sound like the vainest person on the planet, but it's true.
I was talking to a young girl (I think I told you guys about this conversation before Christmas) and I was telling her that I struggled with my own self esteem, particularly with regards to my appearance. And she could not fathom that someone like me would have low self esteem because to her, I was so pretty. Because she perceived me in this way, how could I struggle? I appeared to have everything together, why would I lack confidence?
We pick holes in ourselves so easily. Perrie is tearing herself down. We see faults in ourselves that no one else sees. The things we see as faults, the right people appreciate about us.
I remember showing this girl a picture of myself that someone had taken earlier that day with no makeup (I'd been given a Christmas gift by my netball team and they posted a picture of me with it in the group chat) and I told her I hated the photo because the first thing I saw was my eye bags, and she said her first thought was how clear my skin was.
One of my new years resolutions is to be kinder to myself. Half of the shit I say to myself I would NEVER say to someone else as it's so cruel. Why do we treat ourselves this way?
Perrie's got a fiery personality and will hopefully enjoy a fiery dalliance ;) but she's also a young girl trying to find a place in this world (tay tay) and will hopefully learn a lesson or two about self-acceptance.
Just like I hope the same for all of you. I'm working on it. Let's work on it together x
Vote and comment xxx