Mrs. Simmons, a beautiful olive-complex woman about her mother's age, had arrived too early or said too much already, because she was sitting alone, mesmerized by the waves and movements of the dancers. Esther approached her and curtsied. "Mrs. Simmons, how lovely to see you" –a complete lie, but she would have been offended by the truth of I do not really know you, but your familiar face comforts me and I remember you were a calm person, not threatening in the least, and your company would keep me from a strong urge to throw myself into the river or the wine vat. "And may I inquire after the health of your family?" I care not in the least for your family's health, but this is the standard way to approach you and my eyes are begging you to ask me to sit down.
"Miss Wickham, my dear! My family fares well. Please have a seat." Success.
The woman lacked the harsh, pride-filled judgmental eye that most of the women over thirty-five possessed. Nevertheless, old cultural habits die hard. Mrs. Simmons looked over Esther from the knot of her hair to the buckles of her shoes. "You look lovely. I trust your mother is here?"
"Yes. You know Mama. She has not missed a ball since she was a young girl." Esther relaxed a little. Mrs. Simmons gave a knowing chuckle.
The pleasantries continued nicely. They talked about the ball, their favorite dresses of the evening, and funny stories about the Simmons' children. Esther almost forgot she was using the conversation to hide from the world. Mrs. Simmons was kind to pretend to be ignorant of her situation. She was full of compliments to Esther and her family, and did not once mention Hazel and Mr. Turner.
Along the way, Esther saw a few family friends that she was required to make pleasantries toward.
Biding the women adieu, she was instantly spotted by Hazel, who hurried over to her, took Esther's hands in her own, and overjoyously exclaimed, "What a ball! My darling Essie, why do you look so sour? And you have not danced with a single young man yet! My word! I would not waste that outfit languishing in the back with the old women! [The old women huffed at such a statement and flurried their fans faster.] And as I made up half your hair, I feel terribly responsible towards you tonight and I must see to it that you dance with every agreeable young man in the room and even some of the unagreeable but rich ones. And perhaps, if there's still time, the thoroughly scandalous ones—Come!-We must find someone to dance with you! To the floor!" Hazel's light hold on one of Esther's hands clamped down to a grab and Hazel began pulling her sister through the room, darting between the pressing crowds like a fish in a crowded pond.
Hazel's curls had managed to stay lively and her striking white dress billowed as they weaved through the crowd. Esther noticed several men turning curiously toward her and, recognizing who it was, forgot their sudden interest and turned back to their own parties. Esther felt proud that her sister had the ability to turn so many eyes, but distressed that Turner's pair of eyes had followed suit.
"Him?" Hazel said, gesturing with her fan to a very handsome man in his late twenties. His bright blue eyes matched his coat.
"You know he is engaged to Miss Burke." Otherwise, to be sure, I would.
"Miss Burke! That hag?" Hazel dropped her fan; it caught by the white ribbon around her wrist and dangled.
"She is rich," Esther said with a shrug.
Hazel began her searching a bit less conspicuously over Esther's shoulder. "Of course she is. That is the sole reason hags acquire husbands."
"They must marry someone, I suppose. If they must be hags, better they be rich hags."
"Or, simply, less hag-like. Esther, what about Mr. Heaston? He has liked you for ages."
"And he will adore me for ages more, because it would never happen. I—I don't believe he is very attractive." Meaning, he is disgusting. And he looks at me awkwardly. And he laughs with too many of his teeth showing. And he is always trying to accommodate my every whim whenever we are in the same vicinity. And I am fairly certain he once tried to smell my hair. Esther gave a slight shiver.
And he's not Turner.
Clearly Mr. Heaston was the only decent dancing partner Hazel could see from her particular vantage point, because she grabbed Esther, pulling her out of her cloud, and spun her to switch places, and began peering over her shoulder at the new crowd of men.
"Mr. Clarke."
"Too old. God, he is friends with Papa." Which also means that he's too addicted to his drink and cards to love any woman the way he should.
Hazel brightly and excitedly scanned the crowd, looking over elaborate hairdos and perching on the tips of her feet. She pulled Esther into a quick walk. "There's dear Mr. Phillips—no woman will ever want him, but he tries—Mr. Black—he's far too poor and acts richer than us all but no one seems to be falling for the charade tonight—The Wilson Brothers—the only bad thing about them is that it is illegal to marry both of them, but I would say yes to the first brother to ask me…that is, if not for Mr. Turner, of course."
Mr. Turner. My Mr. Turner, Esther rolled in her mind. A pain shot through her. Suddenly, Esther was in less of a mood to dance, although a minute ago, she would have declared it impossible. She acutely felt hollow inside—maybe Hazel had simply made her notice her already-existing holes. Nonetheless, channeling the pain into resolute defiance, she halted, nearly throwing a still-walking Hazel to the floor. "Esther? What ever is the matter?"
"I do not wish to dance. Please do not make me. Just allow me to sit amongst the ladies. With mama or the others."
Hazel saw the seriousness in her sister's face and deadness in Esther's beautiful eyes, and dropped her smile. She patted Esther's hand, still within her grasp. Esther truly did not care to dance—perhaps she had pushed her too much—her sister always did act thirty even as she wore a body of nineteen. Hazel longed to see a jovial expression upon her sister's face. It was altogether too sad for so young and beautiful a lady, especially around so many attractive men. And she really had done a fabulous job on that hair; it must be showed off. She must use her tricks to coax Esther into dancing tonight.
She thought hard and looked around the room, and speaking into her sister's ear, said, "Sit with the ladies if you must, but these ladies are so contemptible they will call over every young man until your dance card is full. They care for matches and marriages, not happiness. Let me introduce you to some fine gentlemen with whom I have recently come into society, and you can judge whether they are worth the blisters on your feet or not." Here, Hazel gave Esther such a caring, concerned look as Esther swore she had never seen from her sister.
He is ruining this ball and he is not even present. I will not let him destroy nights for which he is too cowardly to even show his face in my presence.
Esther sighed. She knew Hazel spoke truthfully—calculated, but truthfully—and placed her happiness and her other hand in her sister's grasp. With tired eyes light with new opportunity, she said, "Very well then. Introduce me."