It was with a light and rapid heart that we awoke. The ball was far aways in the day, but our excitement was uncontainable; practically unbearable.
My fork hovered above my slice of ham as my eyes froze in a trance. Infinite strings of questions plodded into my mind and I felt my eyes disconnect from the view in front of me.
With a skipping heartbeat and a startle, Lydia snapped her fingers in front of my face and laughed gleefully. Thomas seemed to roll his eyes at our shenanigans. Boys misunderstood the true experience of a ball, especially after absence from one after years.
Father coughed nervously and we all froze in curiosity. His attention seemed to be directed towards me. My body felt alarmed and my hairs stood on end in panic. Was it the way I was eating? Was I slouching? Did I say something disrespectful to him? Heat flashed through my body and I felt lightheaded. My mouth held slightly ajar and I fidgeted uneasily with my fork. Father furrowed his eyebrows at my twiddling and gave a piercing gaze at my moving fingers, warning me to quit it. I did and resorted to folding my hands in my lap.
"I suppose there will be... men of good status at this ball. It's quite a large gathering," he commented somewhat merrily. My mouth twisted in odd disbelief and I cocked my head in surprise. Father appeared average upon this subject. He didn't speak in sarcastic gestures and retorts, what was he clarifying to me?
"I suppose," Lydia finally interjected for me. I nodded in agreement and stared at my plate.
"I'll be sure to introduce you to many amount," he ignored Lydia. Turning to me yet again, I felt my cheeks blush with red at the thought of such introductions.
Staring at Lydia, she seemed beyond upset at his implied statement. He was in hopes of my courtship and marriage far too soon. Lydia was two years my senior, surely Father would hope to find her a man to accompany first. He seemed sure of himself and did no reprimanding upon his sentences.
Lydia's lips seemed to tremble for a moment before she regained control. Father paid her no mind and pushed himself upwards before excusing himself to his bedroom. Lydia allowed the tears to flow silently and I found myself reaching across the table to grab her small and fragile hand. A napkin was pressed to her lips to cage in her sobs. Thomas seemed caught in the middle of the situation and shifted uneasily in his seat.
"Thomas, how about you go do a little adventuring? Stay very close to the inn so we can call you if needed," I suggested without his reply. He was more than joyous to relieve himself of the awkward situation.
I moved and sat next to Lydia, reaching my arm around her to rub her opposite shoulder. She leaned into my chest and her tears flowed down my garment. She appeared to be far more upset than ever, and I felt like there was some further problem into her breakdown.
"Lydia, what has caused you to cry so?" I asked quietly, so as to lessen her commotion. Tearing herself from my envelopment, she dotted her eyes and sniffled.
"I'm going to grow old without a husband and bear no children! Don't you see?! I've exceeded the stage where there are men my age unmarried, you haven't. I'm nineteen, surely you still have more opportunities than I. It is the realization of such a thing that brings me to tears," she shrieked loudly, receiving a few pitied glances. Nodding while shushing her gently, I was unsure of what to say. My mouth opened to speak a word of encouragement, but I felt frozen in my place. The parched texture of my tongue worsened as I held my mouth open.
"Don't think such a thing. Father is getting into your head, don't give him that luxury," I advised before releasing her shoulder gently. What else was I to say? Part of what she said was true. Most women of our age were married at this point in life. It didn't help Lydia's situation when she thought about her friends and their husbands, one particular girl already had a child.
Lydia gathered her composure and gracefully ascended the steps back towards her room. I was left sitting awkwardly at the wooden table and I huffed. Laying my cheek upon my balled fist, I felt my lips turn into an ugly frown at the situation. What had been a bright and happy day was quickly turned into one of depression and sorrow.
Comforting Lydia further would only dig into a larger mess and I surely was not up for that. Leaving the table unattended, I walked outside. Trapping myself in my room would only cause my anticipation and fidgeting anxiety to grow. Stepping upon the busy streets, I inhaled the unfamiliar scents yet again. I could never get used to this place, but it suited me. Catching my eye, Thomas sprinted up to me and tugged upon my sleeve. He dragged me to a nearby cart selling different assortments of candy and bread. The sweet sharp scent of chocolate and flour wafted into my nose, drawing me closer.
I nearly jumped back in surprise when the man behind the wooden counter was the ribbon shop keeper. My eyes bulged and my mouth gaped. Was this the man whom I thought was following me yesterday? I greeted him with a smile shortly after my shock.
"Sir! How do you run a cart as this and a ribbon shop in two differents locations?" I questioned and he smiled. Opening his hand for a shake, I took it and Thomas seemed to furrow his eyebrows in curiosity.
"You seem to think we've met before," he informed while dragging the end of his sentence. What did he mean? Did he not remember our encounter of my ribbon problem?
"Have we not?" I questioned, this time more alarmed than I should be.
"No, I do run a ribbon shop and a cart, but I keep good records of my clients. You, I do not recognize."
I quickly grew frustrated and bit my lip in embarrassment. The aging man raised his eyebrows in expectation of my conversation. Giving up, I shrugged and gathered Thomas' hand to walk away. Thomas stopped in his tracks and seemed to cross his arms.
"Let's go, Thomas," I insisted, pulling on his arm.
"I was hoping I could get some chocolate, but you were too busy making a fool to realize that," he replied snobbily. I groaned and rolled my eyes at his persistent demands.
"Stop acting spoiled and I'd do so."
Reluctantly, we returned to the cart and I made no effort to converse with the shopkeeper. Eyes cast downward, I handed the treat to Thomas and he ran off towards the steps of the inn to eat his treasure. Following along, I felt my cheeks blush in awkward embarrassment. Maybe the man had a mental disorder, he could've simply forgotten I was ever there in his shop. It was wrong of me to get frustrated.
I never thought that in such a new and glorious place, I could find myself starved of entertainment. Boredom upon me, I huffed up the steps of the inn. What was I to do except anticipate the arrival of such a grand ball?
* * * * * *
I awoke with a startle, for a bang upon the door had arrived. My head pounded with a sudden headache and I felt myself being sat upwards. My feet felt heavy as I shuffled over towards the door to see who the disturber was. Lydia seemed to have left the room, her presence seen nowhere. Her belongings were no longer scattered among the floor like they were when I had lay down for my nap. The bed was only wrinkled by my own body, unlike before I laid down. Lydia had been napping as well. It appeared as if she had packed her things and went back home. Had I slept through it all?
The door continued to pound beside my ear, only paining my head further. It was most likely Lydia, so I opened the door without asking upon who was knocking. To my surprise, Mark appeared. His eyes seemed to glass over and his eyelids never shut. He seemed nearly ghostly, and I swallowed a scream that threatened to break out of my throat. Without eye contact, his words enacted chills down my spine.
"You're time is here." I furrowed my eyebrows in deep consideration and confusion. What time? I opened my mouth but felt no words escape and I panicked as my throat tightened and oxygen made no effort to slip down my throat. I grabbed my throat and felt my head pound ever further as Mark stared off in a trance. I gasped for breath, but my heart only beat rapidly and seemed to punch at my chest. The only sound that I managed to emit was a gurgle and then darkness engulfed me.
Suddenly, I opened my eyes to find the red ceiling of my room. My chest heaved and I turned over to find a pillow beside my face. Heat covered my head as I realized I had attempted my own suffocation. Shaken by my nightmare, I sat upwards and gasped for clean air. Finding it, I slowly relieved myself from the scare. Lydia seemed deep in sleep beside me, ignorant of my suicidal struggle. I sat in front of the unlit fireplace, my legs crossed over and were held in place by my thin arms. A knock upon the door made me jump and I remembered the terrifying memory. Learning my lesson, I asked upon who it was.
"Your Father," replied the angered voice. Swinging open the wooden door, he crossed his arms and peered into our room. His mouth twitched in frustration at Lydia's sleepy state.
"I suggest you start getting prepared." Without any further questions, I nodded happily and shut the door excitedly. Jumping the bed with great enthusiasm I playfully hit Lydia with a pillow to awaken her. She groaned and rolled over, falling off the bed with a thud. I erupted into laughter and fits of giggles as she groggily clambered upwards. Her glare seemed threatening but playful as she grabbed her sagged pillow, hitting me repeatedly until I begged for mercy. Giggling, we ceased our playing.
"Father said it's time to get ready!" I exclaimed, sitting upwards with merriment.
Lydia seemed to be awake now, her body perking at my announcement and she flashed her white teeth like a horse, making me laugh again. We both sprung into action, tightening corsets, fixing Lydia's petticoat, buckling shoes, styling hair with leather ties and small bands, placing beads gently in each curl of hair. Hesitating as I pulled out the blue ribbon. Lydia peered over my shoulder, resting her chin upon my shoulder. My mouth folded inwards and I thought over the idea of such a simple dress to such a grand event. Lydia seemed beautiful and extravagant with her puffed dress and ruffling fabric. Should I use the old man's advice? It could very well be the trend he often sees in Boston. Without further doubts, Lydia was my aid in slipping into the white dress.
Satisfied with our appearance, we both looked into the small, rusted mirror of the bedroom. It laid upon the wall between our two windows. Lydia smiled confidently as she twirled, her hair swishing with each turn of her head. I smiled weakly, insecure about my own look. She hugged me from behind and gave me a warm grin.
"Nervous?" she questioned quietly, resting her chin upon my shoulder again.
"Of course. It's been years since I've attended such a thing. I'm not certain of my liking to this dress. Do you think it's too simple and plain?" I rushed, feeling flustered.
"Certainly no! It suits you well and I think you might have a few good glances your way," she touched my hair gently as to hide any strands.
"Not as many as you."
Without another word, Lydia sighed and turned away. I ran my hand over the smooth surface of the white dress. It had slight traces of lace and the blue ribbon contrasted well with it. The dress didn't hug my figure, but it still felt odd to have such a loose garment; it was admittingly relieving.
We hooked arm in arm and strolled through the thin hallway. It's wooden boards seemed to scream under our weight, certainly not a good place for all woman to walk through confidently. Assuming Father had his place in the carriage, we made haste downstairs. Strangers and assortments of people glanced our way to observe our appearance. I should most likely revise to say they were observing Lydia's appearance. My eye twitched in jealousy but my I forced a crinkled smile upon my face, showing Lydia no such agony.
Fretting over being an old maid was not a thing Lydia should do, the hat tips and longing stares received proved so. Lydia seemed far too overwhelmed to reply and she simply marched onward towards the doors, her eyes straight forward.
The carriage wobbled as our feet entered its confines. Settling down opposite of Father, I quickly raised my eyebrows in realization.
"Father, is there an arrangement for Thomas to be watched over?"
"Yes, the tavern owner agreed to watch him tonight if she charged us extra," he replied bluntly, no eye contact given.
A peculiar feeling grew inside my stomach, forcing me to wring my hands together in nervous anticipation. Lydia grabbed my arm and smiled playfully. I stopped fidgeting and huffed, looking out the foggy window. The click clack of the horses hooves only made me miss Jamie, wondering how she was at this moment. Was she hungry? Was she pacing her paddock for company and freedom? My anxiety only worsened as curious questions and thoughts raced through my head. The carriage screeched to a halt and we lurched forward, my body nearly smashing into Father's. Regaining our seating, Lydia and I exchanged frightened expressions. We all were curious as to the stop in our way.
Without beginning it's course again, Father grew impatient. Finally opening the small door of the carriage, he slammed down the steps. I felt my body flinch uncomfortably as voices filled with vinegar and anger rang out in the street. Carriages passed by and onlookers stopped with gaping mouths. Beyond worry, I poked my head out the door to find the source of the commotion. Father held his fists to his side, barely holding on to his frustration with a reddened face. The front part of the carriage seemed tilted at a slight angle. The horses pranced up front, confused as to why their attempts to pull were not succeeding.
"The axle is broken?!" Father bellowed at the driver, who seemed to tremble with scare. Courage that was unseen somehow was mustered and the driver mumbled something to Father, who only rubbed his temples in stress.
"Get out girls, we're walking the remainder of our way," Father said calmly, still persisting on rubbing his temples. Lydia groaned and huffed out of the carriage. The one opportunity we've had of luxury is swiped from underneath us.
The street seemed to overflow now as our carriage held up lines of various horsemen and their carriages. The coachmen tried their most effort to heave the carriage off to the empty side, but they were unfortunate. Without another word, Father stomped off towards us and grabbed hold of our arms, nearly dragging us towards our direction. I felt the urge to shake him off as my blood soared out of his grasp and my arm throbbed with a heartbeat, but I knew better than to pester his fury.
No such trouble was brought forth again and I was thankful for the cool gusts of air every occasion. Lydia seemed to grit her teeth in vexation, for her dress dragged upon the dirty streets. My dress was white, which was unfortunate. Hopefully a woman's assistance would be available at the ball. The edge of my dress seemed to brown, and the puddles placed upon the street did not assist my predicament.
Father surged ahead, his strides tripling ours. We struggled to match his pace. With heaving chests and sweat covered backs, we arrived at the large brick structure. The top of the roof seemed to be towering like a castle, almost frightening. The outside seemed plain and gothic, but the inside was quite the opposite. A double sided staircase wrapped around the walls, welcoming its guests. The floor was brightly polished, shining and twinkling despite the cloudy weather that we dragged inwards. Servants offered to clean us off before we entered the ballroom, which I thought kind of the hosts to offer such services.
I couldn't help but look upwards at the breathtaking ceiling as we finished our shoe cleaning. Before I knew it, we were walking towards the staircase. Music and laughter rang throughout the long and twisting hallway, but it couldn't snatch my gaze from the ceiling. Engravings and small paintings danced upon it, telling stories of the generations that walked through this very home. I wouldn't consider this a home, for it was such a fancy and luxurious place. How could someone live here and not feel like a monarch? I wouldn't be shocked to find that the King himself owns such an edifice.
My stomach twisted in knots with each step towards the open doors, inviting us in to the assembly. The ballroom surprised us further. Lydia gasped beside me, her chest halting any breath intake. Large groups of fabrics grouped near the high points of the walls, swooping down before being pinned back to the wall again, almost in a wavelike structure. It was warm, but I felt pity for Lydia's warm dress. She seemed oblivious to temperature, her eyes were observing such a rare spectacle.
Father was quiet beside us, his eyes scanning over the crowd. We stood still, and different groups of people seemed to stare respectfully at Father, slight traces of fear glazing in their eyes. I tend to feel the same as them, frightened and intimidated. I felt heat swarm to my cheeks and I bit my lips, for center of attention was a forte unknown by me.
Striding forwards, we followed after Father. His direction was towards a respectable looking man, appearing to be in his fifties. Father smiled, which was a new experience for us. Lydia and I clamped our mouths shut after gaping them in surprise. Exchanging hands, Father and the man seemed to talk in deep conversation, eyebrows furrowed. We decided to keep our slight distance until Father felt the need to introduce. Eyes locked onto the pair, I didn't recognize that someone had bumped into me, making me crash into Lydia embarrassingly. I felt my anger surge to the surface and glared toward the direction he came from. No one stood there to apologize, or to correct me on my clumsy fall. Confused, Lydia looked me over and laughed.
"Are you okay?"
"Would be if such a person would've apologized for pushing over a lady," I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest. Lydia grabbed my arms and pulled them down to my side. I received a glare of warning and I knew I needed to be on my best behavior.
Panic flew over my chest and head as Father and the mysterious man glanced our way, my way. Father's acquaintance nodded, then smiled at us as he motioned us over. Lydia and I felt relieved at this man's posture and merry ways.
"Lydia and Rebekah, I'd like to introduce you to an old friend. His name is Mr. Edwards. We fought together in the war." We offered our hands and Mr. Edwards smiled. I felt embarrassed, for Father had addressed us like children.
"Now, Tim! You make it sound like we're old men!" Mr. Edwards exclaimed with a slight laugh.
"We are, Benjamin." The two friends laughed and we felt awkward in their conversation. Mr. Edwards cleared his throat and gestured to a group of young girls and a man, motioning them over. The one man was quite handsome, I'd admit. Lydia seemed to be locked in a trance as they pranced over, her trance focused on the son.
"Well, I suppose I should introduce my children. These are my daughters, Olivia, Cristel, and Madeline," he gestured, pointing to each daughter as he said their names. Each girl seemed lovely as they curtsied towards us, their perfectly smooth hair glistening in the evening light, their dresses straight and clean. I could not help but feel envious of them.
"and this is Andrew," Mr.Edwards completed, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. Lydia smiled at Andrew, tucking a piece of wispy hair behind her ear. Joy erupted inside me at the thought of Lydia's love.
We all talked together, speaking of the newfound war, current fashions, dancing, and who we were to be when our old age struck upon us. Lydia laughed whenever Andrew happened to add a jest, her cheeks growing rosy as his eyes shone with pride and appreciation.
Although it was relieving to know someone in such a crowded place, I longed to explore the dark halls and secret passageways of the house. I found myself being excused and silently shuffled away from my Father's guarded gaze, as he was distracted by Mr. Edwards comments. Before my foot could take a step out of the ballroom's doors, a gentle hand tapped my shoulder. I felt one of my curls bounce as I snapped my head around, beaming at Charles. His presence was so greatly appreciated after our previous occasion. My arms longed to wrap around him in a friendly hug, but that would be far too past a boundary in this society.
A grin quickly broke upon his face and his eyes twinkled, crinkling the corners of his almond shaped eyes.
"Where are you slinking off to?" he asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.
"Standing around and talking about my future does not suit me. I'm in desperate need of a hallway exploration. Don't think I'd get in trouble, would I?"
"That I'm not sure of. I wouldn't take such a risk, Rebekah. You've never personally met the host, and he wouldn't appreciate your snooping," Charles warned, disappointing me again at his plain ideas. First it was that he didn't want to race horses, now he doesn't think it's a good idea for an adventure. Maybe I'm still just a young girl, have I really matured yet?
I nodded, my mouth tracing no smile. Suddenly, music started up and my head snapped to view the violinists and their instruments. Charles grinned again, offering his hand for a dance. I shrugged and followed after him to step into line.
The room silenced, awaiting the thrill and gentle thuds of the floor with each stride of partners. Charles contagiously grinned from across me, his smile bright and sparkling. I curiously craned my neck to view each man beside Charles, their views set upon their own female partners. My eyes bulged and I gulped as my pupils landed upon a man staring back at me; Mark.