The ballroom was filled with scores of guests, all enjoying the evening’s event as it was still early enough in the Season that such balls as this had yet to become a chore. Through the vast crowds, she found her mother, she made eye contact, and she held it as if to warn her mother of what she was walking into.
But then…
“Oh, no!” Isolde cried out.
Celestine spun about and groaned when she saw the reason for her younger sister’s antics. The poor thing had somehow managed to spill a slab of cake onto her pink gown, staining the front in a way that might have been amusing was it not so tragic.
“I told you to chew,” Celestine said.
Isolde’s face had turned pale and she looked about the busy ballroom with fear. “I did not mean to. I… I… what do I do?”
Celestine took a quick survey of the situation. The three sisters stood toward the back of the ballroom but there were still plenty of people nearby, and more than a handful of them glanced across when they heard Isolde cry out. A few snickered. Severalrolled their eyes and shook their heads. And when their mother arrived…she is sure to be furious.
“Marigold, take Isolde to the retiring room and clean Isolde up,” Celestine ordered her sister quickly. “And try and keep her covered.”
“Come on…” Marigold took Isolde by the hand. “Quickly now.”
Isolde looked appropriately distraught. Although she was not eager for courtship like many of her age, she was still aware of social expectations and the effect of rumor mongering. A small incident like this, if left to fester, would surely have tremendous negative repercussions.
“… oh yes, he proposed just yesterday,” Celestine heard a woman’s voice announce from her right. “I was so surprised. Truly, I could not believe it! He has always been a romantic.”
An idea came to life and Celestine allowed herself a wicked smirk.
“Engaged, you say?” Celestine turned to find Miss Madeline Rosewater speaking to a few of her close friends. “How wonderful!” Celestine swept toward them, making a show of it.
Madeline eyed her warily as she no doubt knew of Celestine’s reputation…one which I am about to make infinitely worse.
“Might I propose a toast,” Celestine said, pitching her voice high as Isolde and Marigold slipped away. “To marriage! Sure to be a disaster, almost certain to be built on lies and deceit, but eternal nonetheless so that we are left with no choice but to claim otherwise. Congratulations.”
Madeline Rosewater and her friends gaped at Celestine’s less-than typical toast. And those in the immediate vicinity, close enough to overhear, frowned and scoffed and shook their heads as they muttered words of judgement that Celestine was only too used to hearing by then.
However, over their shoulders, Celestine spied Isolde and Marigold slip through the crowds, unnoticed, and thus saved from embarrassment.
Perhaps not the most subtle of distractions, but it will have to do.
“Celestine!” From behind Celestine, her mother suddenly appeared. “Will you…!” She snatched Celestine by the arm and dragged her away.
“Truly, I wish you well!” Celestine called over her shoulder as she was dragged away. “Give my best to your future captor for me!”
Celestine’s mother, Lady Ophelia Hargrave, the Dowager Viscount of Fairbrook, seethed not-so-silently as she pulled Celestine through the crowd and toward the back of the ballroom. Her hand was a claw and it dug into Celestine’s arm so that even if she wanted to wiggle free, she would not be able to.
Her mother was sure to be furious with her, but that was a risk Celestine was happy to take. Her charge in life was to look after her sisters, and if that meant sacrificing her own position in the ton, so be it.
“What is the matter with you?” her mother snapped once they were alone.
“What did I do?” Celestine asked innocently. “I was merely congratulating a friend. Is it my fault that I am willing to say what others will not?”
Lady Ophelia was forty-nine years old but the stress of looking after her daughters had aged her greatly beyond those years. Once, she might have looked much like Celestine; indeed, Celestine had been told often of their similarities. The same chestnut hair, thick and curled. The same expressive hazel eyes, a tad too big for their face. The same shorter stature with sweeping curves, and the same regal features that made a beautiful face.
Only now…she really has grown old these past few years, a fate I am determined to avoid, one that starts with avoiding married life.
“What has happened to you, Celestine,” her mother sighed. “You used to be so much more…” A shake of the head. “You were a good girl, the type that any mother would be proud of.”
“Are you saying that you are not proud of me?”
“I am saying that you have changed,” her mother said flatly. “You seem determined to embarrass yourself, as if you have a vendetta against your own reputation.”
“I am only being true to who I am, Mother.”
