I would never...

Ever...

Dream…

The words sounded muffled and the vision got cloudy and hazy with every blink of an eye.

Never dream of courting Penelope Featherington!

Penelope had been awakened from deep slumber. Her face beaming due to all the perspiration. She drew short and hurried breaths, placing a reassuring hand over her chest to get her back to a state of tranquility.

She rose from the bed and sauntered towarda the colossal window in her chambers, peeping outside once, her eyes ranged in pursuit of something and then, as she averted her gaze from the window, her eye had been transfixed by something. Something she saw….

It was her own reflection in the looking glass. She advanced a few paces towards it, with not much heed and then, on the spur of a moment, her legs came to a halt and she felt a prickling sensation to turn her eyes away from the mirror but she dared not to. If there had been something more pitiful and agonising than tears then, that would be the look that inhabited her eyes. The feeling spiralled into abyss of her being as the words still echoed round her head,

I would never dream of courting….

"Penelope!" The unsettling voice of Lady Featherington jolted her out of her melancholy musings.

"PENELOPE?" Even more blaring this time, "Are you in there?" She added.

"Yes mama!" Penelope spoke as loudly as she could, heading out to greet her mother deacending the staircase.

"What you have been doing up this late? Has the modiste been lost in the depths of your mind?" Her face bore the usual flustered expression that had always been there.

"No, mama." Her voice had gotten milder.

"So, be quick and return, DRESSED!" Lady featherington's voice softened just a tiny bit and added right after, "Quickly!" as Penelope rushed up to her room.

As Penelope observed Eloise through the casement, leaving her dwelling, she promptly rushed out of her own, disregarding the dumbfound look on the faces of Prudence, Philippa and even Lady fetaherington when she blurted out, "Why aren't you dressed?"

"Eloise! Eloise!" She rushed towards her impatiently when she took heed of a companion besides her.

To promenade with her. Cressida Cowper, herself.

The smile on her face vanished completely as she saw Penelope like she'd just witnessed an apparition.

"Eloise, I…" Penelope's voice turned slightly glum just as she witnessed the smug smile on Cressida's face, "If you could allow me a moment with you."

Eloise blinked at Penelope, as if mulling over and just as Cressida opened her mouth to utter something, Penelope added, "ALONE."

Eloise withheld her silence for a moment or two, staring at Penelope.

"Eloise…Penelope so wishes to talk with you." Cressida's voice turned out snarky and even mocking a tad bit much than usual, "is there an…"

"Cressida." Eloise interrupted her with a coldness and the smug smile on her face faded for a moment.

"Yes?" Cressida was barely audible this time.

"Would you tell Penelope that I am not in particularly high spirits as of now?" Eloise's face bore a cold, lifeless countenance. The one that bought Cressida's pompous smirk back on her face and exalted the sorrow in Penelope's eyes.

Eloise added at last, "A talk alone would be too painstaking for me." With this statement, she dismissed herself from the discourse and strode away, Cressida crept up to her and it stung Penelope's eyes. Must not be a tear…. It cannot be.

If Eloise was fine with the towering distance between them should she not embody a similar air?

She rubbed her eyes, returning to her house before anyone would proceed to ask her questions about what had transpired here. What response would she have if someone were to ask her about what had happened between them? Between Eloise and her? And what was she to her…now? After everything?

Maybe, that's what Penelope was to her, was she not? An apparition, indeed.

As she barged in the modiste, she was greeted with the heartwarming smile of Madame Delacroix. Her eyes glinting in an enigmatic manner when they met Penelope's.

"I hope the lady is enjoying her days." Madame Delacroix said in a hushed tone.

"Madame…Delacroix, how has it been?" The words were caught up in her throat.

"Miss, is something the matter? You seem…unwell."

Lady featherington was close by and her vigilance even closer, and for a brief moment, Penelope felt like she had been eavesdropping. That was quite like her mother, she believed.

"No, I…um." Penelope forced a smile, "I am quite well. Yes, I am." She sounded, as if not sure of herself and caught Lady featherington glancing side ways.

Her hunch had indeed been right!

"Penelope, would you pick something for yourself or would you let me?" Lady Featherington intervened.

"Yes, my lady, the silk fabric you see over there…" Madame Delacroix lead them towards a mannequin draped in one of the most exquisite gowns Penelope had ever put her eyes on. She almost gasped when she caught the sight of it. It was a shimmering blue with hints of celestial blue adorning its edges.

"How is it, my lady?"

"This is magnificent!" Lady Featherington exclaimed, "Is it not, Penelope?" She turned to Penelope for her response.

"It is good…quite good, um..." Penelope said, her eyes still on the gown, pursing her lips into a thin smile.

Truly ravishing, thought she.

"Good? It's a wonder! A delight to the eyes. People will notice you, Penelope, because of it if not otherwise. Only if you give it a try."

"But mama, I am fine." Penelope said, "I don't need it."

"But Penelope…." Lady Featherington interjected almost instantly.

"Mama, I have quite a few of these."

"None like this one! Besides, tonight's ball possesses a reverence that's unheard of. You better have this or…"

"Mama, I shall not be attending the ball." Penelope's voice struck silence in the area.

Lady Featherington appeared as if the air had been sucked out of her, "What?"

"Mama, please excuse me, if you will. I am feeling…quite unwell."

Penelope strolled out of the modiste as quickly as her feet allowed her. She recalled her mother's face quite well, the astonishment on her face and even Madame Delacroix appeared as if she had been concerned for Penelope.

She locked herself in her room until everyone had departed for the ball. And once she descended the stairs, a silhouette in the distance appeared before her eyes, as if someone were standing beside the door.

"Mama? Mama?" She called out hysterically.

Silence.

Following this, she determined to retire to her chamber, and as she advanced towards the stairway, she discovered an object laid upon the polished table. Upon disclosing the paper that veiled it, she was struck dumb by what she beheld. It was the exquisite gown she had seen at the modiste today. She clasped her hands to her lips, her eyes wide with amazement and a bit of hidden dread as she searched amidst the fabric folds, seeking a message or a note.