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Chapter 13: Belles and Flowers
London England, January 5, 1844
The carriage jolted over the cobbled street, causing those inside to sit precariously on their seats and try to anticipate the various bumps and sways of the vehicle in order to minimize their own discomfort by shifting their weight.
She sat cramped against the small window, practically buried beneath Maggie's skirt, which was the widest and most cumbersome in the carriage. That was how the older girl had managed to garner a seat to herself, except for her squashed cousin that is.
The rest of the party sat crushed together on the opposite bench. The various skirts, shawls, gloves, and petticoats caused such a voluminous pile that neither the floor nor the door handles were visible.
She pressed her face to the window, trying to find a crack in its seal where some clean air might have gotten through. The thick cloud of perfume that encompassed the confined space was suffocating. The scents of lemon verbena and orange blossom clung to her nostrils and burned her throat as she tried to breathe without coughing.
Oh, how she envied Uncle Sabastian. He'd had to ride with the cabby driver up top. He was now free to breathe in the fresh air, or London's equivalent of it, while she remained trapped down here in this small box with the walls closing in and the air growing staler and sparser by the second.
She had to think of something else, anything else! Anything besides the walls closing in on her, squeezing her to death in their confines.
She scanned the other passengers of the car, trying to distract herself by analyzing their appearances. They were successfully ignoring her presence which gave her the chance to stare without being reprimanded.
Sitting directly across was Aunt Julia, who was listening intently to Eliza as she prattled happily about a potential suitor.
Julia was decked out in a gown of white sprigged muslin with tiny pink poesies, that made it look like she was trying to hard to appear young and vibrant.
She should really learn to dress her age.
She didn't stop to consider that just because a lady has reached a certain age doesn't mean she no longer wishes to feel attractive. The vanity of youth blinded the observer to the fact that she was staring every young woman's fate in the face.
As the carriage hit another bump they were again thrown up into the air and slammed down against the hard seats.
Ridiculous, she thought.
The Randle's could certainly have afforded a carriage of their own, but instead chose to rent one when necessary to cut expenses.
Hypocrite, she mused.
She knew that both Randle brothers appeared prudent in finance, but Sebastian cared more for the appearance of temperance than the reality of the practice. Something that was glaringly obvious from the draping's and finery decking the passengers of the hired cab they now all uncomfortably shared.
She couldn't help but smile wickedly as she thought of how Hortense's face would've pruned with envy if she could see the ruffle of lace edging Julia's bonnet. Uncle Francis always kept a tight reign on her finances, and would've denounced such frivolity, were he here to witness it. That was assuming of course that he and Aunt Hortense could see past the ends of their noses long enough to criticize his brother and his charming family.
About as charming as vipers.
Not wanting to be consumed with unpleasant thoughts during her small reprieve of freedom she returned to her inspection of the other occupants.
She turned her attention to Hannah and Georgiana, sitting practically on top of one another, on the far side of the bench next to Eliza.
She had always had a hard time thinking of them as two people instead of one. But that was because, beyond the fact that they were twins, they seemed to be equally silly and devoted to clothes, sweets, and teasing her. Not much else seemed able to fit inside their hollow skulls. Right now, they were giggling obnoxiously over a new fan that was lined with tacky purple dyed feathers.
Even in dress you two can't make a distinction.
Both Hannah and Georgiana wore dresses of powder blue with multi-tiered skirts and lace dripping down the sleeves. Even their hair had been arranged the same. With their long, thick, straight chestnut locks coiled around their scalps in a halo design with a cascade of hot house flowers nestled into the rich crown.
She glowered hungrily at the pastoral hairstyle. Thinking of her own ink colored hair that never grew past her shoulder blades and was neither curly nor straight but waved and was obnoxiously voluminous. She could never have achieved such a display without the aid of false hair plaits, something Uncle Francis swore was the mark of a licentious woman and so had banned her from even asking about it. A small spark of satisfaction did enter her thoughts as she noticed that one of Georgiana's carefully sculpted chestnut tubes was beginning to slip.
Well, my hair can at least hold a curl well.
When the twins began to pinch their cheeks raw to make them rosy, she moved on to assessing Eliza.
Eliza was droning on about one Lord Stanley March. Aunt Julia seemed less pleased than her daughter in the topic.
"Do you think he will be there? It feels like ages since we saw him at the Anderson's last month."
"I believe he may be in attendance. But I council you Eliza, do not go making too forward of advances in your acquaintance with him."
"But why on earth not? Don't you think him the most dashing young gentleman you've ever seen!"
"Be that as it may, I don't think your father would approve."
"Of course, he would, Stanley is a Lord after all, and Mrs. Crowe says he has quite the dazzling prospects in government!" Eliza giggled gayly as she imagined her future as the wife of a member of the house of Lords.
"Honestly Eliza! Lord or not, it is of no matter if he does not convert."
"Oh, that would be no problem mummy!"
Julia's face had all the pleasantness of soured milk as Eliza was once again caught up in a non-stop prattle of lovelorn sentiment.
Fool. She disapproves of him for having a foreign born, Calvinist, for a mother.
Julia hated foreigners with a passion and could never accept Lady March for having been born a Swede. It was interesting that she also scoffed at the thought of conversion when Julia herself had converted to Catholicism in order to marry Sebastian. Something she had never forgiven him for. Julia had only mentioned conversion as a hint to Eliza, but Eliza didn't get hints.
She felt sorry for Eliza's obliviousness. Eliza, she had to admit, was the pretties of her cousins and fairly attractive, if only she weren't so simple. Still, she was possibly the only truly kind person in the carriage. Eliza's brain didn't seem capable of contemplating evil.
Eliza suddenly laughed and readjusted her bodice to be more modest.
Lucky, she scanned her cousin's plump curvaceous form.
Eliza had the ideal hour-glass figure, with an ample bosom, generous hips, and a pleasant plumpness that made her look like a sweet peach.
Her own figure was her greatest frustration. Too skinny and flat-chested to be a traditional beauty, permanently underweight no matter how hard she tried to remedy the situation; possessing a paper-thin waist and skeletal arms screaming of an unnatural thinness but was the only state there had ever been for her. Her frame was small and bony, scrawny, almost skeletal or childlike, with angular shoulders and large hands.
At least her fingers were long and slender.
She examined her gloved hands. She didn't have dainty lace ones like the other ladies but only rough black traveling gloves. She knew it was against the rules of fashion for a lady to appear at an event without gloves, but for once she was happy to be the odd one out. She reveled in the chance to show off her pretty, naked hands. So unlike Eliza's fat stubby ones.
The last thing she took notice of was Eliza's bright sunny yellow dress that had row upon row of ruffles and pleating completely covering the bodice. With all the decoration one might have missed the canary diamond broach she wore. That is, they would have if it hadn't been pinned front and center of the wearer's generous chest.
I wonder how it might have looked pinned to the back of her hair instead. Sort of a wink as you walk away. The top of that dress is far to busy for such a jewel to add any mystery.
That is what she wanted. Mystery. She wished to be glamourous and elusive. She didn't want to look like a hot house flower like her cousins, swooning and giggling like idiots at every man who entered their sphere. But she didn't want to be cold and haughty either. That was Maggie's off-putting persona. No, she wanted to walk that delicate tight rope between disarming and unattainable.
Hannah had said, that to entrance a man a girl had to act dumb, those were the rules of social flirtation. That may have been true, but that didn't mean a girl should be stupid.
Lastly, she peered next to her at her cousin Maggie, the eldest of the group.
Maggie was preening in front of a hand mirror, biting her lips till they looked the color of blood, making herself look as desirable as she could for her suitor, Lord Edwin Chester, the future Earl of Westford.
Why on earth would anyone want that fat, doughy little frog.
Lord Edwin had watery eyes and a catch in his throat that made him make a dreadful grunting when he spoke. She had noticed all of this when she met him earlier in the week when on a walk in the park with Maggie and Eliza.
Of course, the real reason for Maggie's interest in him was his title. There was nothing Margaret Randle valued more than her position, unlike her sister Eliza who seemed to function purely on sentiment.
She smiled and held her head a little higher as she noticed Maggie agonizing over her freckles and could see the slight film of powder on her face.
So even you have resorted to cheap tricks of the trade.
Both Uncle Francis and Uncle Sebastian denounced the use of cosmetics as unsuitable for respectable lady. But clearly that hadn't stopped her cousin from trying to lighten slightly sallow skin.
A great sense of superiority swelled within her as she watched the sight. That was her one great beauty, her naturally extremely pale white skin. She always marked with great pride how easy it was to see her blue veins and felt triumphant over how iridescent she could look when in the right light. Of course, there were downsides. She couldn't so much as look at the sun without being burned and at times she looked downright sickly or ghost like. But, in the end she knew her pallid skin was the envy of her cousins and the thrill of that sent her mind spinning.
Just then the carriage stopped, shaking her from her thoughts.
The door opened and Uncle Sebastian stuck his smiling face into the doorway.
"We've arrived my pretties!"
She should've been the one to get out first to make room for the others to escape, but she was suddenly overcome with nerves and wanted to stay inside the safety of the cab.
With a smile and a wink Uncle Sebastian held out his hand.
Checking to be sure her cape still concealed her dress she accepted his hand and stepped out.
Uncle Sebastian smiled again.
"So exciting, your first proper ball Lina!" he exclaimed and gave her a small pat on the shoulder before helping the other ladies out of the carriage.
She reflected on how this was her first party EVER and again felt her stomach turn with nerves.
Still, despite her nervousness, she glowed under her Uncle's acknowledgment and returned his enthusiasm with a shy smile. Marveling at how handsome his face was despite him being nearly 45 years old, an ancient age to her stifled young mind.
Maggie was the last to exit from the carriage and gave her cousin a superior sizing up. Then with a sickly-sweet expression she dug in a humiliating barb that sent the whole happy façade crashing down.
"It must be so nice for those less fortunate to have a taste of the finer things. So long as it doesn't go to their heads. My, aren't you blessed Lina, to have this opportunity to be amongst your betters and observe the manners of polite people."
She hated how Maggie always dragged out that word, Lee-Nah, as if she was talking to a small child.
The group went quiet and she could feel them all silently agreeing with Maggie's sentiment. She watched as the kind light died in her Uncle's eyes as he was reminded of who she was, what she was, and she felt herself being once again put on the shelf in his mind where all pitiable and vagabond charity cases resided, comfortably out of view.
Looking past his niece Sebastian smiled politely at his wife and offered her his arm to lead her into the grand house. Their four cherished daughters fell into line behind like a parade of pretty peacocks.
As Maggie brushed past her to take her place at the front behind her father she hissed in her ear.
"Do try to not embarrass the family tonight. Even if you don't bear it yourself remember that the Randle name means something here and others may not have the kindness to ignore your association to it."
Hatred boiled in her veins as she watched her cousin sashay to the front of the line, whilst she brought up the rear two steps behind the twins.
Oh, how she hated her cousins! All of them! With their self-righteous attitudes and elevated airs.
Her anger burned away any sense of nervousness and replaced it with a bitter confidence as she silently swore to make Maggie pay for that humiliating sting and for stealing her moment of attention from her uncle.
She looked ahead at Sebastian's ugly puffy face and receding hairline that glistened with sweat as he turned back to answer one of Hannah's questions. He too would pay for writing her off so quickly and ignoring his daughter's cruelty towards her. He had always been the kindest to her and showed the most concern for her wellbeing, but all of that was forgotten now as she vowed that he too would know how it felt to be looked over.
They crossed the threshold of the magnificent gray stone house, palace would have been a more fitting word for it, and She found herself transported to the most glittering spectacle her eyes had ever seen.
All thoughts of hurt melted away as she took in the splendid display.
This entrance to the house acted like a short tunnel for guests to remove their coats and hats before entering the ballroom. Which could be seen at the end of the 10-foot paneled hall like a beckoning portal to another world.
As she neared the second entrance the house opened up into a glorious room with gold chandeliers, polished intricate wood parquet floors, goldenly details, and a surrounding balcony on the second floor with bannisters and railings made of glossy dark wood.
The musicians had their own balcony at the front of the room amongst the several story windows that reflected the scene within like mirrors. Candlelight bathed the presence in a romantic glow that glinted off all the guests' finery.
Everywhere there were elegantly dressed people and footmen in green and gold livery carrying silver trays laden with delicate glasses of drink. In the center of all this majesty the party came to fruition as dozens of guests danced across the polished floors like angels.
She felt herself floating higher and higher on the elation of the experience. It was as if she were entering heaven!
A footman removed her cape and she stepped onto the ballroom floor. She smiled as she caught a glimpse of Aunt Julia's shocked face.
She had made good use of Eliza's castoff; you would never have known it to be the same dress to look at it now.
It had small, puffed, off the shoulder sleeves that left her arms tantalizingly exposed as well as a low neckline that would have been beyond the limits of decency on larger busted girl. She had used the black lace as an overlay of the neckline, creating the illusion of a V shape on the rounded cut and to highlight her white skin and the daring off the shoulder silhouette. She had left the skirt free from embellishments, instead using the spare blue material to create a sash that tied in a bow and trailed down the back of the skirt like a train.
But what was probably most scandelous of all was the size of the skirt. She'd had plenty of spare material and since she didn't own enough petticoats to add sufficient fullness, she had sewn willow branches into the skirt in order to give it a stiff bell shape that still allowed her to move effortlessly.
She had left her hair down and pinned the sides up away from her face so that her naturally voluminous hair would give her the illusion of height.
Head held high she walked onto the dance floor and drank in the curious glances.
Her triumph was complete when she heard a small throat clearing grunt beside her.
Turning, who should she find had approached her but Lord Edwin Chester.
"M-Might I have this dance?" he asked.
Flashing him a brilliant smile she accepted and was whisked away onto the dance floor.
As she spun away, she was just able to catch sight of Maggie's face flush with rage and laughed at how truly ugly it made her cousin look.