“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I can’t go with Anne and Catherine to the ball,” said Lydia, pouting by the fire in the girls’ room.

    Lady Edmonson turned away from coiffing Anne’s pale hair to look at her youngest daughter. “My dear,” she said. “You’re naught but fourteen yet! Count your blessings that you’re so young and have so many years to find a good match. Perhaps we’ll manage to take you to London for a season when you’re older. You’d be sure to find someone there, with your sweet demeanor. Perhaps a military man? It’s not what I had hoped for my daughters, but here we are…” She pulled listlessly at one of Anne’s delicate curls.

    “Not all of us think that money is the key to a good match, Mother,” Anne said, gently pulling her hair away from Lady Edmonson’s fidgeting grasp.

    “Well then perhaps you are not so old and wise as I had thought,” said Lady Edmonson. She turned to Catherine. “Come here, Catherine. Your dress is looking a bit loose.”

    “I prefer it that way,” said Catherine, admiring herself in the mirror. “It is so tiresome to dance and be lively when one cannot breathe properly.”

    Lady Edmonson ignored her, grabbing at the fabric of Catherine’s dress and pulling it closer to her body. “Honestly, Catherine, be useful. At least pretend to help me.”

    Catherine complied, all the while making a face at Anne behind her mother’s back.

    “She’s right, you know,” said Lydia, taking on the air of a much older woman. “It would be absolutely unfashionable and disgraceful for you to be seen looking so unstyled in public.”

    Anne tittered. “And what do you know of fashion, little poppet?” she asked, tweaking Lydia’s nose.

    Lydia crossed her arms and turned away from Anne. “More than you, apparently. Maybe that’s why no men will have you.”

    Anne’s face fell.

    “Lydia!” Lady Edmonson said, sucking in a shocked breath. “Never speak that way to your elder sisters. Anne may not be married, but she is your senior and deserves respect. Now, come here, Catherine, and I’ll help you button up your dress.” She began to hurriedly fasten the buttons running up Catherine’s back, cursing under her breath. “If only we could afford a lady’s maid…”

    “Some families cannot even afford a cook,” said Catherine. “We are not so destitute.”

    “If you keep up that attitude, we will be,” Lady Edmonson replied. “Now gather your things and say goodbye to Lydia. We must be off.”

    The elder girls kissed their petulant sister on her pink little cheeks, bidding her a fond adieu.

    Sans Lydia, the Edmonson family distractedly made their way to the front door of their home. The house was not much to look at, to be sure, but it was not without its finer qualities. It was just two stories, and it often felt like there was not quite enough room for everyone in the Edmonson household. Anne and Catherine shared a bed, being so close in age, and Lydia ruled court over her own tiny room, which might have once been a large closet.

Sweet rose bushes dotted the lawn out front, and tendrils of ivy climbed the ivory walls, long unchecked by a gardener’s hand. It was wilder than was currently in fashion, but Catherine thought the ivy made the house more beautiful, rather than less. There was a little wilderness out back that Anne and Catherine had taken great pains to cultivate, and they delighted in taking many an evening turn therein.

Sir William drove a tiny carriage up the short drive from the carriage house, pulling to a stop in front of the women.

“Ho, girls,” Sir William said. “It’s quite tight with all of you, so just squeeze in. The assembly hall isn’t far.”

“Now Sir William, please try to go as unnoticed as possible,” Lady Edmonson said. “I don’t want people thinking that we cannot afford even a simple driver!”

“I’m not sure that will come as much of a surprise to most, dear, but for your sake, I’ll try,” he replied.

“And girls,” Lady Edmonson continued. “Do try to look quite small so that the inside of the carriage looks larger.”

Anne and Catherine exchanged looks. “We’ll look very small indeed if we leave our arms and legs behind at the house,” Catherine said under her breath.

Lady Edmonson chose to ignore her willful middle daughter, instead saying, “Off we go, Sir William!”

The poor horse began to clop at a slow but steady pace, burdened by the heavy weight of his numerous passengers.

The little carriage traveled through the darkened countryside, the women glad for the warmth that the close quarters afforded. The unseasonable weather had ended: today had been a grey day. Catherine rubbed her arms wistfully, hoping for sun and heat. Rocks and soil scattered the dry ground, crunching under the horse’s shaggy hooves.

Soon, but not soon enough, the twinkling lights of the village came into view, and the carriage drew up to the assembly hall. A few people milled outside, greeting acquaintances. Even more were walking up the front steps of the building, seeking warmth and merriment inside.

The Edmonson women exited the carriage and walked toward the hall, leaving Sir William behind to stow the horse and vehicle.

“Do you think anyone noted our circumstances?” said Lady Edmonson, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What, that father drove the carriage?” said Catherine rather loudly.

“Oh! Do be quiet, Catherine. You’ll disgrace us all,” her mother said.

Catherine shot Anne a mischievous grin, and, taking her hand, rushed headlong into the assembly hall before their mother could follow them.

Although the family had arrived early for once, the room was already full-to-bursting with many old acquaintances. The sound of musicians warming up their instruments floated down to Catherine from a lofted wooden balcony. Someone–likely a woman from the village–had hung ribbons along the rafters, hoping to give the almost plain room a more festive air.

But still, Catherine could not imagine a more wonderful place than the assembly room. So many of her best memories had been made here–her first dance, her favorite friends, her best connections had all happened in this simple village hall.

By the looks of things, the first dance of the night would soon begin. Women scanned the crowds nervously, hoping for a suitable partner. It would not do to be with a bore for the first dance, for he might try to follow you around the whole night!

Catherine paid this little mind, as she had set her sights on good conversation and even better gossip for at least the first half-hour of the ball. Dancing was well and good, but much of the fun was dependent on one’s partner, and Catherine did not expect to see any man she wished to partner with tonight.

“Would you take a dance with me later tonight, Anne?” Catherine asked.

Anne shook her head. “I have not so accepted my role as spinster to stoop to dancing with my sister yet,” she said.

“It’s just that I have no hopes of finding any new dance partner tonight,” said Catherine. “It’s been the same men all these four years I’ve been out, and they’re all frightful.”

“They’re not all so awful as that,” Anne said carefully.

Catherine’s eyes widened. “Whatever could you mean, Anne? You don’t have someone specific in mind, do you?”

Anne blushed, her eyes not quite meeting Catherine’s bright gaze. “No. Certainly not. But I have heard of such men. Nice ones.”

“Well, if you hold out such hopes, then I do wish you find ‘nice’ a man one day,” Catherine said.

“Oh, do you really mean that, Catherine?” Anne said, her words coming out in a rush. “Because I have something to tell–”

“Catherine! Anne!” Anne’s words were cut off by a young woman bustling towards them.

Anne looked disappointed, but Catherine was pleased to see the girl. Miss Althea Fairchild was unrivaled in glee, dancing, and gossip, and any night with her could be counted on to include all three.

Catherine hugged Althea happily. “In good health, I hope?” she asked. “Any news to share?”

“Not so much to share of my own,” Althea said. “But I have heard some things of note recently. Of course, you didn’t hear it from me.” Her cheeks dimpled coquettishly.

Catherine demurred. She would never dream of breaking Althea's confidence, not when their acquaintance so often proved to be such a delight.

“Well first, someone saw a young lady–a mystery woman, if you will–dallying with a farmer from Castle Fen!” said Althea.

“But that could have been any young farm woman, or even a villager,” said Catherine, furrowing her brow.

“No,” said Althea. “Our friend assured us that it was a gentlewoman, but did not catch her face. One can always tell, you know. We hold ourselves differently than them, and our manner of dress is decidedly finer.”

“Come closer to the circle, Anne,” Catherine said, noticing that Anne had slowly started to drift away. She grabbed her arm. “You won’t want to miss this.”

“And of course, the big news is about Castle Fen itself,” continued Althea.

“Why, I don’t know that I’ve ever given Castle Fen a second thought,” Catherine said. “To be sure, it is a beautiful fortress, but no one has ever spoken about it in the four years that I’ve been out.”

“That’s because the owner of Castle Fen, the Marquess of Glenarvon, has left it empty. They say he’s been at his residence in London for the past four years, but–and I hear this from a good source, mind you–Lord Glenarvon has returned this very week to take up his ancestral home once again. He could not bear to be a part of another London Season.”

“Well, I do suppose that is interesting,” said Anne. “I wonder how the farmers and the others working on the land at Castle Fen got on in his absence?”

“Likely he left a caretaker in his stead,” Althea said wisely. “There are procedures for these sorts of things, you know. A lord cannot always be expected to reside in his castle.”

The girls all nodded in agreement. What a strange bore being stuck in a castle would be compared to bashing about the busy streets of London!

The musicians finally started to play the first song of the night, and couples quickly began to pair up. Althea, who was of an age with Catherine and in no hurry to find a mate, turned to Catherine and bowed in mock gallantry.

“As we have no suitors to dance with, will you take a turn about the room with me, Miss Catherine?”

Catherine agreed, hoping that Althea might reveal more secrets from about the town during their walk. Althea hooked her arm with Catherine’s and led her speedily away from Anne.

“How was Bath?” Catherine asked. “Is it quite dreary to be back here in the country?”

Althea’s smile faltered. “Bath was wonderful… at first. My aunt was a woefully substandard chaperone, so I was able to do whatever I wished.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, then.”

“I was kissed,” whispered Althea. A hint of color rose in her cheeks and her eyes darted quickly around to see if anyone had overheard.

Catherine stopped mid-step, gripping Althea’s hands. “You never!” she said. “Did you like it?”

“I liked it very much,” she replied sadly.

“Then why are you so glum about it?”

“Mr. Brooks and I did not part on good terms,” said Althea. “I do not think we shall ever speak again.”

Catherine squeezed Althea’s hand comfortingly. “I’m sorry to hear that. What was the cause?”

“My family did not approve, and he…” Her voice wavered. “We left without even saying goodbye.”

“Oh, Althea…”

“Don’t let’s talk about it anymore,” Althea replied, forcing a smile on her face once more. “We are supposed to have fun tonight. And you might note that rather dashing man over there–” Althea pointed subtly to the left.

Catherine shot a quick glance in the direction that Althea had indicated.

Indeed, the man was very fine of figure, with light, amiable features. He was talking to a woman the girls knew vaguely from these sorts of events, but as Catherine looked over, he caught her eye and smiled.

Flushing, Catherine turned her face away immediately. “Do you think he caught us staring?” she asked.

“Oh, most certainly,” Althea said, chortling. “But look–no, don’t actually look–he’s coming towards us. I’ll pretend as if you’ve just said something marvelous to hook him in.” As the man drew nearer, Althea began to laugh uncontrollably.

“Oh, Miss Catherine!” she said loudly. “You are too droll.”

The man came up beside them and offered himself in a deep bow. “So sorry to intrude, ladies, but I cannot help but note that you two seem to be having the merriest time of anyone in the room. But, I get ahead of myself. I am The Viscount Daventry. Edward.” He turned to Catherine, offering his hand. “Are you not Miss Catherine Edmonson?”

Who was this curious man? “Indeed I am, sir.”

“Ah. I believe we have a mutual connection. Your cousin, Sir William Edmonson. I own a house in London quite near his,” Lord Daventry said.

The song playing in the background died away, and people scattered, hoping to quickly find new partners. Lord Daventry turned to look at the crowd.

“It seems the next dance is starting. Would you care to join me, Miss Catherine?”