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Oh dear God! How could I escape this deadly trap?
‘Sir Philip? Philip who?’ I tried to stall her, my thoughts racing.
‘Sir Philip Wilkins. Surely you must remember. I told you of his dancing with your sisters at Mr Marlow’s Ball only two days ago.’
Actually I didn’t remember. But I thought it best not to mention that to my dear aunt.
Concentrate, I yelled at myself. Think of some excuse! You are not going to this infernal ball. Don’t you remember what Patsy told you about what balls are like? Hours of aimless chatter, and your feet hurt from dancing for days afterwards? No, no, no!
But my aunt seemed to read my thoughts as if they were broadcast on my face. ‘Don’t you dare think of not coming,’ she hissed and wagged a bony finger at me. ‘This might very well be our only chance at getting you introduced into society. We all have to go. Even Mr Brank is coming.’
This was such an unexpected piece of information that it shook the foundation of the world as I knew it.
‘Uncle Bufford? Going out into society?’ I eyed my aunt suspiciously. ‘How did you manage that miracle?’
She smiled back at me in a way I think the harpies of Greek legend - you know, those monsters with women’s heads and the bodies of birds of prey - would have smiled. ‘I pointed out to him that it would not be a wise course to offend a nobleman of such importance as Sir Philip by refusing his invitation. I also pointed out that if Maria and Anne were to be married, he would have two less mouths to feed.’
In spite of my annoyance, I had to admire her. My aunt was not a very intellectual person - but when she wanted something she knew how to get it
‘Enough of this talk!’ She clapped her hands and grabbed hold of my shoulder, steering me upstairs. I tried to ram my heels into the ground, but she possessed super-auntly strength, originating from the force of her determination. ‘You will get dressed now, and I do not want to hear another word of protest! You are nineteen, almost an old maid now, and it is high time you were introduced into society and found a man!’
Upstairs, she deposited me in my room and entrusted me to the capable hands of Gertrude. Not having much chance to find a husband at her age, and not at all displeased about the fact, Gertrude was more than happy to attend the ball in simple attire and instead concentrated the full force of her primping skills on yours truly.
Within 20 minutes, my hair - which had been flattened into a strange shape by a box that had fallen on my head during the battle of the files - was transformed into an elaborate updo. Then I was forcibly stripped and stuffed
into my other dress. With horror I discovered that my aunt had somehow found the money and time to alter it: my favourite dress was now a ball gown, with frilly lace at the sleeves and neckline, and, believe it or not, it was off the shoulders! My horror was complete when my aunt rushed in and pressed a fan into my hand.
‘It’s the perfect way to attract a man’s attentions,’ she said, smiling brightly. ‘And very easy. You see, if you wave the fan like this, it means…’
‘Why do I have to wave this stupid thing around to attract somebody’s attention?’ I demanded, panicked. ‘Why can’t I just walk up to him and say “Hey, I like you”, or “Piss off, dick!”?’
‘Lillian Linton! Mind your language. And the reason for the secret language of the fan is that it is far more discrete than actual talk.’
‘I am not discreet!’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘I am fully aware of that, Lillian. You had better change that quickly or else you will never find a man to take care of you.’
She rushed out of the room and I scowled at her retreating back. How I would have liked to shout after her that I didn’t need a man to look after me, that I had my own job now and would soon be bringing home my own money. But I didn’t dare. I knew that if I even breathed a word of it, I would be locked in my room faster than I could say ‘unfair’.
So I frantically tried to memorize what waving an open fan signified, besides the fact that it was too hot and you wanted to get some air. While I waved at myself with the fan in front of the mirror and attempted to ignore the fact that for the first time in my life I was wearing an uncomfortably revealing off-the-shoulders gown, Ella entered behind me.
‘Oh Lilly!’ She came rushing up to me and hugged me, careful not to ruffle my hair. ‘We’re going to a ball! Isn’t it exciting?’
‘Yes, very exciting,’ I mumbled. I was still busy looking at the fan in the mirror. I noticed it was quite sharp at the end when not open. Idly I wondered what the message to a gentleman would be if he got a poke in the eye with it. I didn’t think one needed extensive knowledge of the secret fan language to understand that. Maybe the fan would have its uses after all. I tucked it away in my dress and turned to Ella, who was gushing excitedly.
‘…can you imagine how grand the ballroom will be? And the music, Lilly? I’ve never heard a quadrille[16] before, let alone danced it! I would so love to dance. If only-’
She broke off abruptly.
‘Yes?’ I asked distractedly, still trying to figure out the best way of using a fan as a defensive weapon. ‘If only what?’
‘Oh… err… nothing.’
What was this? Ella, being secretive? I would probably have paid more attention to this gross deviation from her usual character had not at that very moment my aunt stormed into the room and clapped her hands.
‘Girls, girls! Why are you dawdling? Come on downstairs, the coach is waiting!’
We followed her down the stairs and joined the other four waiting in the hall: Gertrude calm and composed as ever, Lisbeth even more excited than Ella, and Anne as well as Maria with the same self-satisfied smiles on their identical breathtaking faces, in the full knowledge that the rest of us owed the invitation to the ball to their charms. They probably expected us to thank them on bended knee when it was over.
