Preparing For A Ball

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From a comfortable position on the bed, Beth watched as Lucy added even more rouge to her cheeks and smiled at the mirror – she looked beautiful. Her ever unruly hair danced on the side of her face as she turned to look more upon her makeup. Gwen sauntered into the room, looking beautiful as well.

“Beth, Aunt Marrily said to come to the door in ten minutes.” She approached the mirror. Lucy gave her a thin blue sash.

Beth pushed herself down on the bed and closed the book she held, dog-earing where she was. “I told earlier that I want no part of this ball. How best should I say this?” She lifted herself to her elbows. “I do not want to attend the ball.”

“Mother!” Lucy turned to the door. “Beth says she won’t attend the ball!”

She jolted up. “Lucy!”

“What is this I hear?” Aunt Marrily was immediately at the door, hand on her hip. “Why would she not…?” Her Aunt stepped into the room. “Why wouldn’t you want to go to the ball? This is the very reason I asked my sister to send you over.”

“You asked Mother because Lucy is lonely.” Beth point blanked. “And because you feel Lord D’Averette might ask to court Lucy, and you want to make a strong impression, of how close-knitted our family is.”

Her Aunt cleared her throat, looking guilty, while Gwen and Lucy giggled from behind. “You would never utter a word in public but rain on us any slight chance you get.” She waved aside. “That may be true; still I used the excuse of a ball to get your Father to agree. I see no reason why you wouldn’t want to make full use of my ill-thought excuse. You are too quiet around the peerage.” She sat herself down beside Beth. “The ball promises to be fun, besides eligible young gentlemen would be in attendance. Who knows we might finally be planning your wedding in a few months.”

Her Aunt would be shocked, and perhaps, proud if she ever found out that she held up a conversation with a stranger on a lonely road. “That being the exact reason I'm refusing to attend. I don’t ever want to be wed.”

“Nonsense!” Aunt Marrily shot up to her feet. “Everyone wants a husband, or a wife in the case of a man.”

“But I don’t.” She didn’t want a husband. That wish had die on the hill that very day.

Aunt Marrily stared her down. Beth blinked. “Don’t be silly child. You should refrain from uttering such complete nonsense.”

“I want my very own husband,” Lucy threw herself on the bed and playfully pushed at Beth, who quickly rescued her book from underneath her cousin. “A home for myself to tend to lovingly; children to surround me in my old age, and ornaments to adorn myself.”

“Someone like Lord D’Averette?” Gwen asked with a smile and Lucy quickly blushed. “He doesn’t have to be rich or titled, be good to me is all I ask.” Gwen added much to Beth’s despair. How could she even think of marriage after all she had been through? “And a kitchen to reign supreme.” She added smiling.

Aunt Marrily waved a finger in her face. “Listen to them, you are much older, I suppose I thought you knowledgeable.” She tsked with a slight shake of her head. “I guess I was wrong. Get dressed immediately, it doesn’t matter if you want a husband or not, your family wants for you, therefore you and every other person in this household will attend the ball.”

“But I don’t feel like it.” She said under her breath.

“But Beth, it’s your birthday.” Gwen whined, leaning on her.

She stroked her little sister’s face. “Precisely.” There was no reason to be happy, no reason at all to celebrate.

“But why wouldn’t you?” She raised her head. “You always walk around the house sad on your birthday. You wouldn’t let us celebrate it for you or with you, Father and Mother are eagerly looking forward to the day you would permit us a ball – or at the least, a dinner – in honor of you.” Her eyes fell as she added sadly. “He would want you to enjoy yourself too.”

Beth smiled softly. “I don’t want a ball in my honour. Also, our economic status wouldn’t allow us a ball.”

“Nonsense!” Aunt Marrily’s voice resounded. “Your parents have let this go on for far too long. The sooner you choose to understand that you are not at fault and lay that issue to rest, the happier everyone would be.” She frowned. “What business of yours is it with the economic status of your parents? Get married and worry about the economic status of your husband and your household.”

“Don’t worry Aunt Marrily, such a time will never see the light of day. Like I said, I have absolutely no intention to be a wife.” And that was final.

“How brave you are behind closed doors.” Aunt Marrily’s stare grew intense. She crossed her hands over her chest. “Are you a mistress?”

Beth was beyond shocked. “I beg your pardon?” Gwen and Lucy exploded with laughter. “I most definitely am not.” What was her Aunt saying?

“Are you pining after a love that can never be yours then?”

She breathed out. “I assure you, Aunt Marrily, there is no one. There is nothing of the sorts.”

“Then you must have gone mad.” Aunt Marrily concluded, laughter exploded from the younger girls again. Beth chuckled but quickly fixed her face. “I see no other reason for your utterances. Whatever it might be,” she waved off, “that is your concern. The ball awaits, and attend we must.”

“But Aunt Mar…”

“Shh! Not a word more. I have had it with you and your stubborn, quiet ways.” She turned and began to order out instructions. “Lucy, hold your hair up with a ribbon, it is always so uncontrolled; this is your Father’s fault.” Gwen and Lucy giggled again. Uncle Fitzwilliam did have wild hair too. “Gwen put more colors to your cheeks, and Beth,” she looked her over. “Why do you still look like a housekeeper? You had better be dressed for when I call you lots down.” Her words rang with finality. “Now excuse me for I must see to my husband.” She smiled at Beth, clasping her hand bashfully. “That felt good to hear, didn’t it?” Before Beth could refute, she danced out of the room.

Lucy laughed. “She is always so giddy.”

“She married right.” Gwen noted as she got out of bed, pulling Lucy along. They rushed back to the mirror and set to obey Aunt Marrily’s instructions.

Lucy turned back to Beth, hand in her hair, “They make me believe in marriage and the possibility of a good home all the time.” She struggled with her hair, forcing it into the ribbon tie, but it escaped every time she thought she had it secured. Finally getting just enough to stay still, she gave up on the fight. “Up, up cousin,” she called from the mirror to Beth, “we’ve got a ball to prepare for and a rogue of bachelors to rile.”

Beth groaned but got up reluctantly. No one dared to disobey Aunt Marrily, not even Uncle Fitzwilliam. When they were called down later on, all three girls were looking beautiful and presentable.