"Can't I wear a red ribbon, Mattie?" Amelia Jones pouted at her older brother, Matthew.
"Red?" Matthew asked, eyebrows disappearing into his shaggy, sandy blonde, waves. His voice was naturally soft, and Amelia strained to hear him even when they were alone. "Do you want to look like an adulteress?" he mumbled, picking through the color assortment he had laid out for her.
"What?" Amelia asked, cupping her hand around her ear, even though she had heard him. She was always trying to get her brother to speak louder and be more assertive, and she wanted to overlook his statement. Their mother was an adulteress and their parents divorced while the siblings were both young. Though they had spent most of their lives apart, the two were still quite close.
"Red isn't a suitable color for a young lady." He annunciated, as if she was either hard of hearing or unable to understand English, earning him an amused glare from his sister. "How about this blue one." He asked, returning to his usual manner of speech. Amelia inspected the blue ribbon as she paced across the hardwood floor of her small bedroom before plopping back down on her quilted bedspread where Matthew also sat.
"I guess it will do." She replied with a sunny smile. She wanted to look nice for her first ball in England, and was willing to let Matthew tell her what to do, just this once.
"These stuffy Englishmen won't know what to do with an exotic American dame such as yourself." He remarked teasingly, tying the ribbon around her curly blonde up do.
"You're just as exotic as I am!" She turned, and poked him in the forehead. "Father raised you in Canada!"
"A British colony," He retorted quietly. "Nothing special about that."
Amelia sighed. Their mother had sent her to England to find a husband. In the States, her reputation was tarnished by her parent's divorce and her own stubborn, unladylike, nature, but Amelia was more worried about finding a wife for Matthew. He tended to blend in with the walls at social gatherings and was too soft-spoken to make himself known. She knew he would make an excellent husband; he just needed to be more eye-catching.
"Why don't you wear your army uniform, Mattie?" Amelia suggested excitedly. There was no way he could go unnoticed in his bright red military jacket and stark white trousers.
"You're just set on the color red today, aren't you?" He asked, eying her with suspicion. She leaped up from the bed and tugged at his arms until he stood with her.
"Come on, Mattie." She whined, swinging his arms around in an attempt to make him dance with her. "Girls can't resist a man in uniform!" Her clear, blue eyes widened with her plea, and Matthew sighed with defeat.
"Fine I'll wear it, but I swear I spoil you too much." He mumbled.
"Spoiling me?" She cried. "But this is for your own good!"
"Yeah, yeah. "He scratched his head, embarrassed as he headed for the door. "I'll just blame you when Lord Francis kicks me out of his ball for dressing flashier than his lordship." He jested as he left the room.
Amelia chuckled happily and crossed the room to her armoire. Living with Matthew was so much more enjoyable than living at home. She had only been in England a month, but she was having the time of her life. Mattie never seriously chided her when she ate too much or romped around outside, he just seemed happy to have the company at his small estate. She surveyed her frocks briefly before selecting a flowing, white, gown. It was her favorite, and probably the only dress in her collection that she hadn't gotten knee-deep in mud at one point or another. She slipped into the dress and pulled on her favorite boots before meeting her brother downstairs.
"Amelia," Matthew sighed and clapped his hand over his eyes upon seeing her. "The hem of your dress is stuck in your boot." He said, bending down to fix it. "What would you do without me?"
"Burn down the house, I suppose." She replied with her customary booming laugh, causing Matthew to wince slightly. She scrutinized her brother's appearance. He looked quite dashing in his crisp military uniform, which made him seem even taller than his height of six feet. However, his sandy blonde mop of hair ruined the look. "You should tie your hair back, Mattie. You'll look more polished." She dashed off to find one of the ribbons from earlier without waiting for him to consent. She quickly returned with a white ribbon and commanded him to kneel down so she could tie back his hair, which he did with a heavy sigh. She pulled his sandy waves into a bushy ponytail towards the top of his head and tied a large bow around it.
"Perfect." She announced proudly. Matthew stood up wearily and left the room wordlessly to inspect himself in the mirror. He returned with slumped shoulders and a pained expression.
"I look like a horse." He muttered at her as he untied the ribbon. Unwilling to let her try to fix his hair again, they boarded the carriage to the ball. Amelia was beyond excited and shook the carriage as she bounced up and down. She loved to dance, but she also wanted to fix her brother up with a lady. Maybe with her help, he would be a little less shy tonight.
"Are you going to dance tonight, Mattie?" She asked him, wide-eyed.
"Maybe," he replied, not meeting her eyes.
"Oh come on, Mattie!" She demanded loudly. "What's not to like about you?" He only shrugged his shoulders and looked at his feet.
"Will you at least try to ask someone to dance?" She batted her eyelashes at him.
"Oh, fine." He groaned, as the carriage slowed to a stop outside Lord Francis' estate. "If it'll make you stop asking."
"Good." She said happily accepting his hand as she climbed out of the carriage. The manor was unfathomably huge compared to Matthew's small estate. The façade was made out of an orangey stone adorned with archways and ionic columns. It straddled the line between being beautiful and being gaudy.
At the door a pretty, young, maid greeted them. She wore a dress that was finer than some of Amelia's own things, and her smile was oddly catlike.
"Good evening, Mr. Williams, Miss Jones." She said with a curtsy. Matthew and Amelia bowed and curtsied back. "You're expected in the ballroom. My name is Bella, and I am more than happy to tend to your needs."
"You don't need to be so formal, Bella." Matthew said with a soft smile. Amelia perked up suddenly. Maybe her brother was interested in this pretty maid! "How is your brother?" He added as he and Amelia followed her to the ballroom.
"Oh you know Lars," She said giggling. "He's still penny-pinching in Canada, but hopefully he can join me in England soon." Amelia remembered now. Lars and Matthew had grown up together in Canada and the Dutch man was one of his dearest friends. He had mentioned Bella before too, he saw her as a sort of sister. Oh well, she thought to herself sadly.
"It was so nice to finally meet you!" Amelia said brightly as they reached the large double doors of the ballroom. She noticed Matthew's hands shaking slightly as he reached for the handle. "Mattie," She began sternly. "You have no reason to be nervous. Lord Francis invited you here because he likes you, which means that everyone else has to like you." Matthew nodded timidly, before sucking in a large portion of air and throwing open the ballroom doors with gusto.
The ballroom was almost as much of a sight to behold as the people inside it. Heavy, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the walls were adorned with gilded moldings. The guests were whirling about the white marble floor in a blur of color and sparkle. Amelia spun around excitedly, trying to take it all in before Matthew placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. At the head of the room, a flamboyantly dressed man with silky, long, blonde curls and a bright pink tail coat crossed the room to greet them.
"Monsieur Williams!" Lord Francis called cheerfully, clapping Matthew on the back. "I'm so glad you could make it, mon ami. And is this the lovely Mademoiselle Jones?" He asked, bowing and kissing her hand.
"Yes, milord." She said with a curtsy. Matthew nodded in approval. So far, she was doing an excellent job at remembering her manners.
"What a lovely, young, thing you are!" Francis cooed at her. "Spin around for me, darling." Amelia's eyebrows furrowed in suspicion, but Matthew prodded her gently with his elbow. She turned around obediently, but she didn't quite like the way the Frenchman was eying her. "I would be most honored if you would give me the next dance." He said bowing and extending his hand.
"Err..." She fumbled. She didn't want to dance with him. Not even a little bit. As suave as Lord Francis was, he had a lecherous air about him that Amelia did not care for.
"Amelia," Matthew urged quietly. I'm embarrassing him, She realized suddenly. She extended her hand slowly. One silly dance can't hurt can it? She thought to herself. Right before her hand connected with his, there was a loud crash at the back of the room, along with the twinkling noise of shattered glass. A sharply dressed man with tanned skin and brown curls was looking down sheepishly at what was once the punch bowl while an albino in a blue military uniform looked on with raucous laughter.
"Antonio!" Francis bellowed with rage, storming over to the tan skinned man, abandoning her and Matthew. "I know I told you not to touch anything!"
Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. "That was a close one!" She grinned up at Matthew, who sighed for an entirely different reason.
"His Lordship is a good friend," He began frowning. "You should have accepted his offer." He finished softly.
"Are you kidding?" She asked incredulously. "He's absolutely ridiculous!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air.
"Oh just come on," He said wearily taking her hand. Matthew introduced her to several interesting people. There was Mr. Edelstien, a composer from Austria, the man who destroyed the punch bowl, Mr. Carriedo, his albino friend Mr. Bielschimidit, as well as Mr. Bielschmidt's younger brother Ludwig and his wife Feliciana. Amelia sent her brother off to ask a pretty mahogany haired girl to dance while she conversed with Mr. Zwingli, a Swiss gun maker, but just as he approached her, Mr. Edelstien whisked her away to the dance floor before Matthew even got a chance to speak. This seemed to not only discourage her brother, but also the white-haired Mr. Bielschmidt who left the ball soon after, despite the protests of both Mr. Carriedo and Lord Francis.
"Don't look so down, Mattie." Amelia greeted her downcast brother with a warm smile. "Why don't you dance with me?"
"I don't know." Matthew mumbled, shuffling his feet.
"Mattieeeeeeee," Amelia whined swinging his arms around as she did before.
"Fine." He finally contested with a sigh and an eye roll. "I only care about your happiness, dear sister."
Arthur Kirkland sniffed in derision at the merriment around him. He never liked balls. The ladies he tried to dance with always laughed at his mannerisms or worse, his eyebrows, and they all tended to look and talk alike. They were like little parrots; repeating polite phrases and wearing bright colors, but they were still just birds. He trudged over to Lord Francis, intending to complain about the invitation he was much too polite to refuse.
"Bonnefoy." He greeted his French host stiffly.
"I do have a title, unlike you, Kirkland."
"Oh spare me, you great flamingo." He huffed back at his flamboyantly dressed childhood friend. Although they had grown up together, Lord Francis was of higher birth and liked to rub that fact in Arthur's face whenever he got the chance. "Why do you always insist on inviting me to these affairs?" He grumbled.
"You do need to leave your house sometimes, you hobgoblin. " Francis replied haughtily. "And it's not like I ever force you to come." He finished with a slight smirk. It was true. Arthur always showed up at Francis' balls of his own accord, despite how he hated them. But, he knew that he had to and not because of Francis. Arthur's parents passed away many years ago, and his older brother moved to Scotland with his dreadful wife, leaving Arthur in charge of his family's estate. He needed to find a wife and begin producing sons before he met the same early end as his parents. It was his duty, and yet he was doing a mighty poor job of it. He never expected it to be this difficult to find a woman tolerable enough to wed.
"Is there anyone new here?" Arthur asked Francis wearily. "I'm afraid all of your usual guests already dislike me." He added with slumped shoulders. Francis stood on his toes momentarily to survey his invitees. "There's Monsieur Zwingli dancing with his younger sister over there." He said gesturing toward the severe looking blonde man who danced with his petite sister. "But I suggest you not get to close to her, unless you fancy being shot at." Arthur tugged at his cravat nervously, averting his eyes from the girl. "Oh, and you already know Monsieur Williams, but he's dancing with his sister as well. She's American." He added with a lascivious chuckle.
"Williams?" Arthur asked, confused. "Do I know a Williams?"
"Yes, I've introduced you to him several times." Francis replied with an annoyed sigh. "Over there." Arthur scanned the room for this Williams character he supposedly knew, when he saw her.
He didn't know how he had not noticed her until now. Her wide smile was visible from yards away where he stood, and the way she twirled around the dance floor effortlessly almost had a wild nature to it. She was beautiful, yes, but he could tell there was something else to her as well. Arthur was intrigued. The man she was with did look slightly familiar. Or at least he thought he did. Not that it mattered, he just had to meet that girl.
There was a break in the music and he left Francis' side abruptly to catch her before she found a new partner. He weaved through the crowded ballroom clumsily, earning him strange looks from many of Lord Francis' esteemed guests.
"Excuse me!" He called to her a few feet away. It seemed she didn't hear as she chatted excitedly with her brother. He brushed the lanky man aside as he approached her.
"Oh, don't mind me," He thought he heard the man grumble quietly.
"Miss Williams," He greeted her with a low bow. "I do not believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. My name is Mr. Kirkland" She blinked at him in surprise before she curtseyed back.
"My name is Amelia Jones, sir." She corrected him in a deeper voice than he had expected.
"Jones? Oh, I thought Mr. Williams here was your brother." He noted without even glancing at Matthew.
"He is my brother!" She proclaimed loudly, causing Arthur to flinch a little. "Our parents are divorced and I kept my mother's maiden name." She explained unabashedly. He studied her quizzically. Divorce was a very serious and shameful matter and she was talking about it as easily as the weather!
"Well then, Miss Jones," he began after clearing his throat, running a hand through his unruly blonde hair. He wasn't quite sure what to think of her yet, but she was definitely different. "May I have this next dance?" he asked curtly. She looked a little taken aback, but she shrugged her shoulders flippantly and took his hand, grinning back at her brother. He looked back at Mr. Williams briefly as he led her to the dance floor to see his arms folded and his nose slightly wrinkled as he watched Arthur lead his sister away in disapproval. I should have asked his permission, He realized mentally kicking himself. Miss Jones however did not seem bothered by his lapse in politeness as she took her place across from him for the minuet.
"Do you have a first name, Mr. Kirkland?" She asked him playfully, as they rotated slowly at arms length.
"Arthur." He replied raising a bushy eyebrow quizzically.
"Arthur." She repeated slowly. He felt his face warm slightly, hearing his name on her full lips.
"Do you like balls, Miss Jones?" he asked politely as he spun her.
"I like dancing." She said with a grin and an extra spin. He fumbled to keep up with her improvisation. "But you can dance anywhere." She added lightly. "What about you, Artie?"
"Artie?" He scoffed back at her, scandalized. "I'd much prefer it if you called me Mr. Kirkland." He corrected. Never in his life had he met a girl so brazen!
"It's a little stuffy and formal don't you think?" she asked cocking her head at him.
"I don't see a problem with formalities." He replied stiffly.
"Well then, Mr. Kirkland, " She began with mock grandeur. "I'd rather you call me Amelia." Her intense gaze met his cat green eyes and he felt his reply stick in his throat.
"That…that would be most irregular." He stammered. "Are you in the habit of making men uncomfortable, Miss Jones?" he asked, eying her with suspicion.
"Am I making you uncomfortable Mr. Kirkland?" She asked innocently as she spun closer to him.
"Not particularly." He replied not meeting her eyes. He was quite uncomfortable, but she fascinated him nonetheless. "It's refreshing to converse with a woman who speaks her mind." He said smirking slightly.
"And here I thought men hated that." She said with her loud laugh. She was something else. Inexplicably, her impropriety drew him to her. Yes he thought to himself, his bushy black eyebrows knitting as he studied her. She will do quite nicely.
Thank you for reading! Please review! I would love to hear your thoughts :)