She Would Become A Missus!

September 1826

True to Lucy's words, Carlisle Crest was indeed magnificent.

Gwen's eyes remained on the lands, outside the window. From the turn they made to enter the estate, to the mansion they were arriving at, she was marvelled by how magnificent it was. Raising her head, she saw that the lights from the mansion up ahead were bright and they gave the mansion a thorough and proper look. It was an ethereal view.

The driveway was packed as people took their time chatting and enjoying proper promenades. Many women giggled into their fists and a group of young men clustered together, stealing glances at the women. Young men of desirable age, and young women of marriageable age, looking to marry.

From where they were on the tardy queue, Gwen could already hear the music. It was loud and upbeat, fun and worthy of a good dance. She couldn't wait to be a part of it, whiling away to the fast and slow dances, the meaningless chats and the untrue smiles.

Like trees, stationary people slowly went by as the carriage moved, bringing them ever closer to the door and to her dream: to acquire a husband and marry as soon as she became eighteen. Unlike Beth, her dream was to wed and manage her home, no matter how humble. She would be a wife!

Gwen continued to watch the guests, smartly and beautifully dressed all glad to be invited to the best ball of the season, or so Lucy swears. Any ball at Carlisle Crest was worthy of the talks, she said. Gwen sent her gaze upon the people she could so far see, they all had the same mission: dream acquisition. For the ladies and some gentlemen, to marry; but for most other gentlemen, to acquire a business prospect.

She would acquire hers too. Tonight.

"Gwen what have you been staring at?" Lucy called to her. "Is there something entertaining out there?" She asked, trying to look out the window herself.

Gwen lifted her lips, fixing a smile on her face and turned to her cousin. She had quickly improved her humour, and the pitch of her voice. "I have simply been enthralled by this estate. You were right, it is indeed captivating."

"Carlisle Crest is a beauty and the thought of attending any ball here excites me even before the arrival at the ball." Lucy said, laughing.

Gwen laughed too, concurring with hers. She turned to her Aunt. "Aunty Marrily, can I have a drink tonight?"

Aunt Marrily was fusing with Uncle Fitzwilliam neckcloth. "Yes you can, dear, but be mindful. Don't forget, it is quite a convincing liquid so do not indulge it."

"Yes ma'am."

"You too, Lucy." She continued. "You might be older now, but you shouldn't indulge. It would be embarrassing to have you swoon from overindulging. If you should ever swoon, let it be to fatigue and make certain to do it in the hands of a gentleman."

They all laughed. Even Beth, who was not as happy to be present, could not help her smile. Gwen shook her head. Aunt Marrily was a lovely woman, but she sometimes was a bit too much.

"Yes ma'am." The young ladies chorused, even though they would never do so. The older woman whipped out her fan and began to blow herself, seeing through their lies.

Gwen's eyes went to her older sister, Beth. She saw the sadness that could not be hidden, the same sadness that visited every year on her birthday.

The line moved steadily and soon it was the turn of their carriage and its passengers to be welcomed. The door opened at the pull of the servant of the mansion, and with his assistance, save for Uncle Fitzwilliam, they all alighted and marched forward.

With a bright smile, Gwen walked into the famous Carlisle Crest, nearly losing her balance when her excited cousin pulled her, following after Uncle Fitzwilliam, Aunt Marrily and Beth. She erected her 'perfect' smile and kept it in place for everyone she saw, people she didn't know and had never met before, people who maybe, did not care for it. She kept her hand intertwined in the crook of Lucy's as they entered the hall. And she quickly realized why it was famous.

The hall was mighty and beautifully decorated. The draperies and wall colour matched in perfect symphony as something she had never seen. The candlesticks to the wall, and the draperies on the window must have cost a fortune. And as big as it was, it did not seem to, at one point show less wealth than another. The designs and the glory allocated to it went hand-in-hand.

The ballroom was filled with different people, of different sizes and stature; some richly dressed, others perfectly beautified. It really was a social gathering. Gwen stared and stared at a bevy of ladies, gaggled up together, waiting for eager young men to ask them to dance, and a few gentlemen, deciding if to approach the ladies or not. She hoped they came to ask her to dance. If anything, a ball was a perfect place to meet young men ready to marry. Men who might not care about her standing in society, or the amount of wealth her family possessed.

The socializing folks gathered with gusto in talks, drinks and dances. Gwen observed the room, letting herself study the dancers on the floor, gyrating to the waltz, smiling at their respective partners; the servers walking about, providing drinks, never letting a needing guest go without; and the music players at the corner of the room, created a perfect melody, a fine piece that encouraged the dancers to continue and the onlookers to join. She stared even for a while at the piano forte, at how grand and beautiful it was, wondering how right and perfect its keys would feel under her fingers, before walking away, being pulled by Lucy. Beth walked behind them, while Aunt Marrily and Uncle Fitzwilliam left to promenade with their known peers.

She kept smiling, holding her lips up as her excited cousin pulled her along in the place that was foreign to her. Perhaps in a matter of hours she could become as acquainted with the vicinity as Lucy, she thought. While they stood smiling at the people, Aunt Marrily returned with three gentlemen whom she introduced to them before ushering them to the dancefloor.

Mr. Jones, her introduced bachelor, was tall and handsome. He had a comely face and seemed to be infatuated by her. He escorted her to the floor, and in no time, Gwen found herself following in the step of the man, mirroring his dance, smiling sweetly, even though the dance meant nothing to her soul. Even though she was neither enjoying it, nor the touch of the man who held her. She espied over his shoulders and saw Beth with her introduced partner and it caused a sincere smile. Her sister had an expression of someone being tortured and she made no show to hide it. Her dance movements were detached and so was her demeanour. She wasn't much of a dancer, but there was nothing left to imagination.

Bethany Fitzgerald, her sister, had sworn to remain a gentlewoman, choosing not to marry neither for wealth nor societal obligations, and she was upholding her oath perfectly, rejecting her family's help in finding a suitor and refusing suitors that came to her. She was brave.

But Gwen was not. She was not brave enough to accept the words of the late Viscount of Sorway, she was not brave enough to live her life on her own, she belonged to the Fitzgerald family and she wished to marry; for herself, for her family who suffered because of her and to prove to Lord Cossington that she could very much be a wife.

She would become a missus!

Gwen again fixed her smile, carefully raising her lips and drooping her eyes. It was her most seductive smile. She had over the years learnt to keep one in place for the benefits of her family – they needn't worry about her; and for society – for she must show that her life was perfect.

And it was, for she made it so!

Her life was perfect. It had to be or it would continually swallow her up. The heavy guilt of the humiliation dealt to them by the Cossingtons and the painful event of her brother's passing was too great for her to bear and if she let herself dwell on them, it would consume her far greater than it had consumed her sister. It was the only way she could live. It was the only way she had learnt to live. Long ago, she had decided that her life had to be filled with gusto and optimism for it to be worthy enough. Her life was repayment for the love her family had shown her and the loss they suffered. And she would live it to the fullest as they would wish. It was the only way she could be truly alive.