"There are no words in the English language that can describe how much I despise balls." I mumbled struggling to remove a far too tight heeled slipper from my swollen foot. Losing my balance I fell onto the duvet.
"Let me help you with that, Miss." Sarah offered helpfully.
"No, thank you." I replied, holding my hand up to repel the young maid from me. In her grey eyes I read a certain hurt helplessness. "I'm sorry, I just prefer to handle these matters myself." She seemed uncertain of what to do - was I really such an oddity? Finally, I resigned myself to her attentions, "If you would, please help me with the buttons - I do have such trouble reaching them." This was a lie, my arms and fingers, long spindly things that they were, were quite adept at reaching those tormenting devices; but it was better that she should do something rather than stare like a bewildered puppy. My own maid was habituated to my standoffish habits, but she remained at Crawford Hall in Greenmoor Commons - a far cry from the dingy alleys and brightly lit ballrooms of London where I was to be situated for the foreseeable future. It was my Father's plot that I should stay with relatives in London for the season - and beyond if circumstances proved favorable - in an attempt to secure a favorable match for myself. This was a concept I thoroughly detested; yet my protests fell on deaf ears. Thus I was parceled off to that great city on the Thames. Had there been more time I should have been able to convincingly feign illness to excuse myself from the torments of London society but, as it was, I had scarcely had a moment to catch my breath from the train ride before I was dressed and drug to an ball at some local dignitary's house - I can't recall who for there were far too many people of no great interest for any one among them to stand above the fray. The night had been dreadful! The men were either; at best, self-important boors who would happily talk at length in order to fill the room with their own voice for no other reason could be discerned based on the content, and, at worst, wicked profligates who should have put my brother to shame with their overindulgent habits. The situation was greatly worsened by the dancing. My guardians were quick to accept any partner on my behalf. I found myself oft imprisoned by these men on the dance floor, my attentions forcibly fixed on them, enduring the dull witticisms that they attempted to glamourize into charm or banal observations that were to prove their intellectual capabilities. The sound of the dwindling music gave me hope of reprieve from this dismal fate, yet each time it was dashed - for as soon as one jailer was dispatched another rose to take his place. Though they strove greatly to make an impression I must admit I don't remember any one of them, only the ever increasing pain in my feet and the throbbing of my head as the night wore on into morning and finally the sunrise of my salvation!
I fell into my bed with the sole aim to sleep for the next year; a goal woefully impaired by the loud chirping of those hateful birds outside my window. Resigning myself to the full observation of the morning I rang for a breakfast tray. If I must endure my exhaustion I should at least be spared the pangs of hunger beside. I ate until I was sated and then sat, cooling my tea with my breath while I pondered my situation. I do not exaggerate my claim that I am an unmarriagable woman nor do I lament that fate. To the contrary, I have diligently worked to cultivate that image - accentuating oddities and disguising talents with deficiencies. My brother, Chet (though he should prefer "Jet" I have never been able to adjust to Elizabeth's childhood name for him), and his comrade have proven invaluable to these ends; spreading rumors among the other lads that I might be somewhat touched. And perhaps they are not wholly wrong in their assessment. Until now I have been allowed to pursue a quiet, yet studious life - but I have come of age now and there can be no question that my Father hopes to dangle me as bait to a ravenous London, hoping that a sizable dowry and favorable connections might entice some man to accept such an ignoble prize. I am certain I shall be able to foil his efforts - though at what cost to my feet! Already they are red, blistering and swollen, unaccustomed to dancing as they are. And that is not even to mention the cost to my sanity of having to endure their company! Perhaps I should stand in the next rain until a chill takes me - or a twisted ankle would surely remove me from any guest list; I smiled wryly as a pondered the various methods I could use to spare myself from further torments. It was sometime while I was lost in thought that I became aware the birds had ceased their cursed songs. Relieved, I put my tray aside and rolled underneath the covers pulling the pillow over my head - sleep wasted no time in finding me. But then, neither did evening, it seemed.
A knock at the door woke me from my slumber. "Miss Moore." the voice called. I let out a deep sigh of disappointment at the prospect that my rest was almost certainly over.
"Yes, Sarah, come in." The girl carefully entered as nervously as if she were walking into the tiger's lair. I suppose I had been unfairly difficult with her enough to have earned such cautious treatment. It wasn't her fault that I was the subject of such an ill-conceived plan.
"The missus has asked that I prepare you for supper. We are to be entertaining a number of guests and she wishes for you to look your best."
"That wish would best be served by my absence. Or, at the very least a few more hours sleep." the Lady's Maid seemed unsure of how to respond to my attempt at a self-deprecating jest. "Never mind. I submit myself to your skills in sorcery." And sorcery it seemed Sarah to be capable of - transforming my long, homely mug into one that could, at least be described as tolerably pretty. Not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination (an inheritance my father cursed despite the share of blame he held in the matter) but pretty. "So who am I to expect tonight?" I asked, trying to set Sarah at ease through conversation. She tilted her her head so that her eyes focused just above the window as though reading some invisible script written there.
"Well Miss, there's Lord and Lady Danvers..." Ah, friends! Allies in what would otherwise be a tedious exercise in manners! "Reverend Underhill and his son and daughter... Lord Norbert... Mr. and Mrs. Martin as well as their sons, Nicholas and Darby... I believe that is all." she concluded. Oh! To have the deck so unfairly stacked against myself! It seemed I would be forced into familiar associations whether I wished them or not. I resolved I should make close friends with the Reverend's daughter who would certainly sympathize with my plight.
Alas, it was not to be! A letter preceding the Reverend Underhill and son arrived with only the regrets of their feminine companion in tow. Apparently, she had been affected by a sudden bout of illness - it only took a few moments amongst the sons of Martin before I had to admit that I, too felt the burn of fever upon my brow. Darby arrived with such pomp and import in his step one would have thought it amiss that trumpets did not announce him in though there was nothing in his mien to support such airs. He strutted about the main room like a peacock, his slender figure clothed in the finest fashion, his too-angular face was capped in a fluffy mass of blond hair which was styled in such a way to suggest an inordinate pride in it. Instantly he set about talking to the host about the most inconsequential of things, as though he were deeply invested in putting on a one man play where he was the singular character of import and all others merely props from which he could showcase his talent for nonsense. His brother, Nicholas, seemed the polar opposite of his brother in temperament. His brunette features were dark and swarthy, he less walked than slinked from one portal to another - finally resting near the corner column just outside the dining room. The way he stood suggested, to my mind, an uncoiled snake. Mr. and Mrs. Martin did not seem, themselves, to be a disagreeable couple: rotund and affable if nothing else remarkable could be said of them. Lord Danvers and his wife soon followed them much to my relief.
"Oh Mina, it has been far too long!" Mrs. Danvers exclaimed upon seeing me.
"Millie! I believe I must lay the fault at your feet, for you were the one who has been so long absent." I replied embracing my friend.
"It is true, we did not intend to stay in Sweden for so long, but my Goddaughter was such a delight that I could not be convinced to leave her. My poor Edgar!"
"Nonsense, my dear." Lord Danvers interjected, a wide smile upon his lips. "The fresh air did wonders for me."
"Will you be in town for the season?" I inquired, hopefully.
"I'm sorry to say we will only be in London until the month's end, then we must return home. Edgar has neglected his duties for far too long."
"Yes, but your father will be gratified to know the time was not wasted. Though I shall not bore you with the details of my dealing in the North." Lord Danvers added.
"Oh, please do - for it shall certainly be far less boring than my current predicament." I implored him.
"My dear, you always were far too harsh. I believe you shall find the Underhill's to be quite interesting company." the man answered.
"Yes, but they have not yet arrived and it shall only be the men." I pouted.
"Ah, the impatience of youth. They shall not be long, I am certain."
"It is a pity you could not meet Miss Underhill. Dinah is, in many ways, a woman after your own heart." Millie said.
"In what ways specifically?" I probed archly. I was only teasing, of course. If there was any person's judgement I trusted it was Millie's. Though she was seven years my senior we had been the closest of friends since my youth. She had always fawned on my knowledge and I her ease of manners for there were few as readily agreeable as my Millie. Though of humble origins - her father had only recently entered the halls of the gentry class - her manners and simple beauty had won her great admiration among those of noble birth. A match with gentleman farmer of notable connection had been easily arranged before she had reached her seventeenth year. It had been I whom she had called on to keep her company following the sudden passing of her first husband and I who had served as one of her maids in her wedding to Lord Danvers. I heartily approved of her choice in Lord Danvers. He had as easy a temperament as Millie as well as a shrewd intelligence that was celebrated among those he worked most closely with. He was large and barrel chested but handsome - most notable, though, was his unsurpassing love for his dear little Millie; she had only but to ask and it was granted her. Her yearly sojourns to Sweden to visit her godchild were among these wishes he happily obliged - even though his only connection with the country was through her association with the child. It was a sorry thing Millie yet had no children of her own for those children would be the envy of all others for their doting parents.
"I suspect you will find the son, Quentin, to be agreeable to you as well." Lord Danvers winked.
"Ah, so that is your game!" I concluded, looking to Millie for confirmation.
"Well," she spoke with an innocent smile, though those sly eyes revealed all. "We may have suggested that the family would make for excellent company."
"I am half tempted to make myself reprehensible to the man just to spite you!" I declared.
"Then you should be forced to keep company with the Martins for the remainder of the evening." she replied.
"I suspect no amount of self-righteous malice could mitigate the deplorableness of their company. Very well, I shall behave. Only you could trap me this way, Millie." I surrendered with a laugh.
"Then, my dear Edgar, I believe we have her permission to make the introduction." The sound of hoofbeats and clattering wheels against the ground announced the arrival of the next party. A few moments later the door was opened to reveal a very severe looking elderly man bedecked in black excepting the white of his collar. "The Reverend Underhill." Millie whispered to me. My distant Uncle greeted the man, pulling him aside to reveal a fine featured, if serious young man behind. The latter man was dressed as soberly as his father, he regarded the room with little interest - as though such activity were beneath his regard. I found I could not decide whether I liked this man or despised his haughty nature.
"Am I to guess that is Mr. Underhill?" I whispered to Millie.
"Yes, but do not worry, he is not nearly so imperious as he might lead one to believe. Merely he has never been so comfortable with people as he is with mechanical things." she answered tugging my sleeve towards the man who at that moment seemed more interested in Uncle Richard. It was only then that I noticed the man who stood beside Mr. Underhill. His dark hair accentuated his well-formed, vaguely delineated, features. He was tall and slim; he should have been striking if he did not make such effort to be invisible, veritably shrinking against the doorframe. I searched my memory for the missing name on the list Sarah had rattled off only an hour ago.
"Is that Lord Norbert?" I hissed to Millie.
"Yes." she answered.
"He's a bit of a shrinking violet isn't he?" observed I.
"Yes, and I daresay he doesn't improve upon the acquaintance - he's a regular milk-toast man if ever there were one."
"Oh." I answered, mildly disappointed. Yet something in those watchful, blue eyes made me question if that were an entirely accurate evaluation of the man.
"Mr. Underhill, allow me to introduce my close acquaintance, Miss Philomena Moore." Lord Danvers declared, drawing me forward to face the man. He bowed stiffly, just barely pressing my hand. From his detached demeanor I could guess that this was one in a long line of introductions foisted upon him. I sympathized with his plight. "And this is Lord Norbert." the other man took my hand and bowed. My thumb brushed the side of his hand and in that instant his dark eyes locked on mine with such intensity it seemed as though lightening had flashed between us. For a moment I was struck dumb as I had never been before.
"Philomena, Mr. Underhill was just mentioning a new book he's been reading, have you ever heard of Culture and Anarchy?" Millie asked from what seemed far away, although I could feel her next to me.
"Yes," I replied abstractly, still unable to fully tear myself from those eyes despite Millie's guiding hand on my arm pulling me back to Mr. Underhill. "Yes, I believe I have."
An announcement from my Uncle broke my trance. I glanced down, almost surprised to see my hand still in his - I quickly slid it from his light grasp.
"My dear friends, I regret to inform you that after dinner we shall be gathering in the Library as our parlor required immediate attention to the walls. We do apologize. If you would like to make your way to the Dining Room I believe we may begin."
"Such a pity. It was such a lovely shade of green." my Aunt whimpered to herself.