Chapter One
"Oh no, Missus Tipton, heavens no—why the very thought of it! I should swoon." Exclaimed Henrietta Vicksburg dramatically, fanning herself vigorously with her delicately painted fan. Her blue eyes blinked and her iron-curled hair bobbed about her head in agreement. I assumed a look of mock interest, the Hawkesbury-look of interest, the selfsame look that I have honed to perfection for two years; which, by the way, made me feel sick to my stomach every time I employed the use of it. And unfortunately, that was too often for comfort.
"I'm quite certain, Miss. Vicksburg," Drawled Missus Tipton with half-lidded eyes and an expression of dignity upon her angular and prim-mouthed face. "That you should be all right, should you ever be put through the 'indignity' of wearing the same dress to a social event twice."
"Oh!" Cried Henrietta, utterly aghast at the prospect, "I would be mortified, no, indeed, Missus Tipton, I should never survive such an ordeal!"
I snort in disbelief, and then quickly assume careful observation of the porcelain teacup I'm holding daintily as Missus Tipton glares at me harshly. Poor, oblivious Henrietta rattles on, blabbering endlessly about her drone life, as if a soul cared. Well, I don't, anyway.
"… And of course, I was mortified at this! Can you believe it, my dear Miss Nelson, that our very own darling, Mr. Peterson could be humiliated in front of the whole party? My! Tea all down his darling naval uniform—it was quite tragic, do you not agree, Miss Nelson?"
I was sipping my tea, gazing about the tea room in boredom, trying to find something, anything entertaining. I was gazing out the window of the tea room when I replied, and it was without thought. For I told Henrietta that dear Mr. Peterson didn't earn his uniform to start with, his father paid for his rank as midshipmen in the navy, so I didn't care a whit if it was ruined, because he hadn't earned it and probably never would… and furthermore…
I stopped my heated reply to my Henrietta as all the rules of propriety came rushing back upon me with startling gravity, and I realized with burning ears that the delicate chatter of other girls in the tearoom had died away in my rant, and everyone was staring at me in shock… and as Henrietta would have put it: utter mortification!
"Oh dear…" I mumbled. Missus Tipton's face was ablaze with righteous anger and with a cursory nod of the head to poor, baffled Henrietta; she whipped out of her chair and removed me from the room by my ear. There it was again, me making a muddle of things. It discouraged me, yet did not surprise. I had known for a long while now that I am a bad luck penny, and this certainly was not the first of events to point out so.
The repercussion of my unlawful manner at tea is to be no supper for me, and I'm to miss my equestrian class. To the majority of girls attending Hawkesbury, missing equestrian would be no horrible trial, as they hate to muss their finery and to smell the beasts. But to me it's terrible, because equestrian happens to be the only class in which I am allowed outside. And I love to ride. That is why Mistress Lemmon decided to take it away, but I brought it on myself with my big, stupid mouth, so I'll just have to endure it.
Winifred Dooley, my best and only friend at Hawkesbury visited me in my isolation, but all she did was babble and chatter on about the upcoming ball at the Kensington's and the dress she was having made for it. It got old very quickly, especially after hearing the exact same words coming out of every other mouth of the girls at Hawkesbury for the past two weeks.
"…it's a lovely blue color! I daresay it shall best every dress there, except perhaps Melinda's dress, but she always has the nicest gown so…" Winnie prattles on; I close my eyes in restraint and count to ten.
"Winnie!"
"… and I'm quite sure that if Belle wears another pink crepe I shall just have to…"
"Winnie, I don't care, don't care, don't care, I simply do not care! Now please, shut up before you drive away my last remnant of sanity!" I burst out before I can stop myself. Winnie's chatter dies away and she looks at me with an expression of hurt in her brown eyes.
"O-Oh," She says lamely.
"I'm sorry, Winnie." I say feeling a bit guilty. "I don't care about the Kensington's, would you rather talk about something el—"
"No, that is quite all right, Regina." Winnie says suddenly, her lips pressed firmly together as she stands up and smoothes out her rustling skirts. I watch her walk to the door stiffly and before exiting she turns to me.
"You know, I tried to be your friend, Regina. Really I did. Even when," Winnie stops and seems as if she might change her mind, but then she looks resolved again. "Even when everyone told me you were odd and didn't belong here. I was your friend, but now I am not. You are not, in any shape or fashion, a lady. I realize that now, and I will not consort with company that will reflect off me in such a way."
I am shocked and my mouth hangs open in disbelief. Whatever could have inspired such a horrible speech from Winnie? I didn't realize telling her to shut up would result in this. And I—didn't know people thought that way about me. I feel my temper rising and my jaw clamps shut in anger.
"Goodbye, Regina. You will not hear from me again." And with that Winnie exits my room, and suddenly the day seems a whole lot grimmer and uglier.