Five years later

Mary awoke to the creaking sound of her door being opened.

"Mornin', Miss," Her maid, Annie, was unusually cheery for so early in the morning. Everything started early in the morning in London. She missed the comfort of Misslethwaite and the comfort of waking whenever she felt. Now she was woken promptly by Annie every morning and by the light that flooded through her windows like a great yellow ocean.

Mary sat up, extending her arms up then out.

Annie gave a cheery smile, Mary's undergarments draped over her arm, "You've got quite a busy day, miss. "Lunch with Lord Navarlen, tea with Miss Victoria, and the the Library's Benefit tonight."

Sliding her feet over the side, Mary stood up and let Annie remove Mary's nightgown and put on her corset. Mary did not whimper as groan as the corset pulled tighter and tighter. She was used to it by now.

She was to be a proper society girl. It was expected.

"Thank you, Annie," Mary said to the small girl. Annie had come to work for her about three years ago when Martha had taken an opportunity to go to France and be a nurse. Annie was sweet, and Mary had grown to care for her over the years, but she missed Martha.

She missed all of the Sowerbys.

Especially Dickon.

Don't think about Dickon, she scolded herself.

They used to correspond regularly. They used to write letters all the time telling each other every insignificant detail of everything.

But the letters eventually became scarce and then stopped all together.

She hadn't heard from him in two years.

He could be dead. Or captured.

Or maybe he found another girl to write to.

Mary would never know.

Annie dressed Mary in a dress of light blue with a pink floral print embroidered into the bodice. Her hair was up and back with a gem encrusted pin.

Mary was beautiful. She knew that about herself, but was not vain about it. She knew that she was very pretty, it was in her family. She was the spitting image of her aunt who had been well known for her looks.

Mary had no trouble finding suitors in London. More than half were dreadful boars and the other quarter were complete snobs. But she had found one who was not too terrible.

Lord Navarlen's courtship of her had been very sensible and very agreeable. He was rich and well respected and sure to give her a comfortable situation.

What more could she want?

She had to be married. Colin was to inherit Misslethwaite, not her. Plus he'd met some girl while off at college and they were set to be married soon. Mary couldn't be living there while they started a family. It would be awkward and Mary had no desire to be the spinster aunt.

Lord Navarlen was not a bad man. He was not a particularly interesting man, or talkative man, or passionate man, but he was kind and would do his duty well.

Mary shouldn't object to him. She could've gotten a lot worse.

She could've gotten Lord Smalls, the anti-feminist pig; or Mr. Graham, the raging drunkard; or Lord Whimell, who said his late wife died of suicide though rumors were that there were darker matters at play.

Yes, Mary could've ended up a lot worse. She should be grateful.

But it wasn't the love story she wanted. She wanted a true love story, like the ones in the Austen books. Like the one in Across the Bay.

It was the most excellent book by this new author named J. S. Dowers about a man who pines after the daughter of an evil war general of the opposing side.

It was romantic, yes, but also full of adventure and battles and epic fights of good and evil.

Mary was a Romantic at heart: she wanted to fight for a cause. She wanted to go out and change the world.

She didn't want to give parties and run a house.

But alas, Mary wasn't born to wage a war. She wasn't born with great powers that would change the world forever.

That did not mean her life was worthless.

So maybe she won't be remembered through the ages, but she would be remembered by someone. Perhaps she won't change the world, but she could change someone's world.

If her life was to be throwing parties and keeping house, she would have the finest house and the best parties.

Mary would not think herself worthless.

Because if she thought herself worthless, she gave everyone else permission to as well.

"His new book is set to come out next week," Annie said. She must have noticed Mary gazing at her copy of Across the Bay. Annie instantly flushed, "Sorry to be curious, Miss, I-"

Mary laughed kindly, "I've told you before, Annie, you don't need to apologize for making conversation."

Annie bit her lip, "Sorry, Miss."

Mary was Annie's first ever lady to attend. When she started three years ago, Annie was a year younger than Mary. Now Mary was nineteen and Annie eighteen, though Annie still kept her childlike innocence. Constantly afraid of messing up, Annie had become quite adept at apologizing for things she needn't be forgiven for.

"I'm very excited for the new book," Mary pinned her earrings on. "I can't remember the title."

Annie piped up, "The Castle's Key, I believe." She opened her mouth, presumably to apologize, but shut it quickly.

The clock chimed ten.

"Goodness, I better get down to breakfast," Mary said as she stood up. She had no doubt everyone else was already at the table. Her Uncle Archibald had come with her for the London Season. In the house as well was a sixteen year old girl named Zelda and her elder, married sister Elizabeth. Zelda was a wild little thing that her matronly sister desperately tried to wrangle.

To what avail, Mary could not say.

Lunch, tea, then the party.

It was sure to be an eventful day.