Hello There!
After a long hiatus, I'm back in the writer's chair and working hard on edits to "Apple Blossoms," the second novel in my historical fairytale genre series. The first draft has been temporarily removed from my Wattpad account to prevent confusion between new and old.
The story is getting a serious overhaul in a lot of areas. My villains are changing places, I'm cutting a good deal of fluff, and aiming to bring the whole project in at under 90k words! "Glass Roses," my first story in this particular style, is around 110k words. At the time I thought this was a decent word count--50k words for each heroine, the length of a short novel devoted to each main character. This time, however, I decided to set myself a challenge. Could I tell an equally engaging story in a shorter amount of space? Could I rein in the sprawl, tighten my focus, and deliver a better piece of work than before?
So far, I think it's working. For your enjoyment, I present the new version of Margaret Kingston's coming out ball at Almack's.
** Big thank you to my friend and critique partner Rebecca Mildren for her brave tackling of the original draft in all its messy, confused glory, and for giving me loads of incredible feedback.
Follow her here to stay up to date with her latest work! **
26 March, 1818
14 Weston Place, London
Dear Bianca,
We attended the ball at Almack’s last night, and it was not at all the experience I anticipated. Do forgive me if my letter is over-long; my mind is so full that my relation of events might become a little confused if I do not take care to be detailed. You requested details, did you not?
My gown was the first surprise of the evening. Instead of the usual crepe or tulle, Mother ordered the gown to be made up in white silk. Oh Bianca, it is the most exquisite thing I have ever seen! Every inch of it is embroidered with fine gold thread, and golden lace lines the neck and sleeves. When Ruth laid it upon the bed, I could hardly take my eyes from it.
“I want you to look your best, my love,” Mother said, resting a hand on my shoulder as I fingered the smooth fabric. “Your father had these made for you as well.” She gestured for Ruth to bring forward a small box. I opened the lid to see a glittering ornament of gold and diamonds laid upon deep blue velvet, surrounded by a necklace of gold set round with more diamonds. “Everyone who sees you tonight will be unable to forget the high place you hold in society, and all of the distinction it entails.”
“I fear I shall not do justice to such beautiful gifts, Mother,” I said quietly, handing her the box again. “This is a gown for a princess, not a girl in her first Season. Will I not appear to be overstating my importance?”
Mother smiled gently at me. “Perhaps I have been a little extravagant in our preparations, but you are descended from royalty, and I intend for the Ton to remember it.” She touched my cheek in a comforting manner, then went to dress herself.
Mother’s gown was a deep amethyst, also in silk, with cream lace edging and golden embroidery on the bodice and hem. Father wore dark breeches and a matching coat, an amethyst waistcoat with gold buttons, and a gold-colored cravat (accompanied by some grumbling about being required to leave off his military uniform for what he called “frippery”). Against their darker tones, my gown appeared to glow slightly as we descended from the carriage and entered the building.
The whole Ton must have turned out for the ball; it was crowded to the point of being stifling. Father led the way, Mother on his arm, and bowed his head to their various acquaintance as we proceeded into the ballroom. The press of people seemed to part before us with remarkable ease, and I felt as though a thousand eyes were watching my every movement. I did my best to smile and imitate Mother’s graceful easiness of manner, though I must admit to having clutched my reticule rather harder than necessary to keep from appearing anxious.
Within moments of entering the ballroom, Caroline Graham approached me in a swirl of pale blue satin. (You remember my mentioning Miss Graham, do you not? Her mother was at school with mine, and we are quite close friends. She came out last Season.)
“Oh Margaret! How utterly divine you look!” she said enthusiastically the moment she was within earshot. Her mother, Lady Graham, smiled at me as she glided elegantly past us toward my parents. I dipped a curtsey to her before turning my attention back to her daughter.
“How good it is to see you, Caroline! Are you just arrived from Kent? How does everyone there do?”
“Well enough, thank you. The only exciting news is that Mr. Copley and his brother have left their scientific experiments long enough to actually come to town this spring. Mama thinks Mr. Copley has at last decided to find a wife. But I do not want to discuss Mr. Copley,” Caroline added, slipping her arm through mine and drawing me further down the room as she spoke. “I would much rather be guessing how many men will be dying of love for you by the end of the evening.”
“Caroline, I beg you would not say such things,” I said, blushing at her words. “You know perfectly well I have no desire to make anyone do any such thing.”
“You shall not have a choice in the matter,” she replied happily, glancing around the room. “Look, the Duke of Wiltshire has already noticed you. And Lord Quincy too. The Duke is a little old, I grant you, but Lord Quincy is handsome, is he not? Which do you think will ask you to dance first?”
“I am entirely indifferent to the matter,” I said, somewhat surprised. “Caroline, you are quite altered since last year. You have certainly always enjoyed balls, but I do not recall you being so eager to make matches.”
“Oh, I am altered indeed, Margaret, as are you,” she replied with a look of amusement. “We are both of an age to marry now. Do you not find the entire concept of the Season diverting now that the possibility of actually making a match is open? Before it was all proper manners and placid conversation; now we are free to speculate and flirt and be as interesting as we choose!”
“You do not seriously intend to… flirt, do you?” I asked, a little aghast.
Caroline shook her head energetically. “Good heavens, no! But I do intend to take great enjoyment from watching others do so.” She smiled broadly as the musicians at the other end of the hall began to tune their instruments. “Shall we see which gentleman Lady Cowper chooses to present to you first? I predict it will be Lord Quincy, but the Duke will have convinced her to allow him to claim you for the dance before supper, so he may remain longer in your company.”
“You are talking nonsense, Caroline.” I sighed, though I could not help smiling a little at her infectious enthusiasm. She has always been high-spirited, and although her chosen topic was not much to my liking, I was at least grateful she was playfully speculating rather than actively matchmaking.
We paused about halfway down the room so Caroline could better watch the company. “I wonder if the Marquis of Halford is attending this evening. They say he is even more handsome than Lord Quincy, and vastly wealthy. He has been on the Continent for some two or three years, and the rumors about his conduct there were wild to the point of absurdity last Season.”
“Are you speaking of the Marquis of Halford?” a voice said close to us. The speaker was our mutual friend Marianne Barton, a diminutive girl with a round face, brown hair, and brown eyes. She too was dressed in white, with a quantity of large white ostrich plumes waving above her head.
“Marianne, how delightful to see you!” Caroline said, releasing my arm to greet her. “Tonight is your coming out as well, is it not?”
Marianne nodded, her cheeks flushing pink with excitement. “It is indeed, and I feared we should be late, Mama was in such fidgets over me. Of course, once she has seen Margaret’s gown she will fuss worse than ever! How lovely it is!”
“You are too kind,” I said, looking down at the golden embroidery on my skirts.
“And diamonds as well! Papa refused to get me anything more than pearls. Mama was quite beside herself.” Marianne pointed her fan back the way she had come to where her mother and father were standing. Lady Barton appeared to have seen us, and was gesticulating with restrained energy and whispering to her husband. Already I could see others near her turning to look in our direction as well. I felt my cheeks grow warm; I did not wish to attract attention over my attire, but Mother had practically ensured it.
“Oh, do not mind them, Margaret,” Caroline said quickly. “There is always one young lady who causes more of a stir than others. They will be distracted again once the dancing begins. Now, Marianne, do you know if the Marquis is present? I have a great curiosity to see him.”
“Mama pointed him out to me when we first arrived,” Marianne said. Her fan flicked forward this time to a place on the opposite side of the room. “He is standing just there with Maria Roberts. She is a cousin on his mother’s side, and he is supposedly sponsoring her for the Season. He is the gentleman in the blue coat.”
I looked in the direction Marianne had indicated and soon caught sight of Miss Roberts. She stood with two gentlemen, both in knee breeches and well-cut coats, though the second gentleman’s coat was an unfortunate dull brown color. The Marquis himself wore a coat of deep crimson. His dark hair was elegantly cut, and the white cravat he wore had been tied with care. His features were strong, and he held himself with an air of decided nobility.
The gentleman beside him was as different in appearance and bearing as if it had been intentionally planned. His pale brown hair was slightly unkempt, and his cravat looked as though it had been hastily tied. He was carrying on a rather one-sided conversation with Miss Roberts, and his posture was slumped in a careless manner. Observing him, I received my second surprise of the evening, for I recognized him as none other than your stepbrother, Walter!
Marianne had continued talking whilst I made these observations. “Mama does not believe half the rumors about the Marquis are true. Anyone might make up anything about one who has been on the Continent for so long, she says.”
“Of course, his fortune and unmarried status have no bearing on her opinions whatsoever,” Caroline said with a smile, rising onto her toes to get a better look over the heads of the gathered company. “What in Heaven’s name is Walter Boland doing here?” she added with a look at me.
“I am as surprised as you are. Bianca wrote to say he was in town, but I did not think he was well-connected enough to obtain vouchers for Almack’s.”
“The subscription ladies would never condescend to give Mr. Boland a voucher,” Marianne said with a sniff. “He would not even pass the inspection for a Strangers Ticket.”
“I would wager my new bonnet it was Lady Jersey who let him in, to revenge herself on Countess Lieven’s slight of her own behavior last month. She would not think twice about it,” Caroline replied, rising to look at them again. “He appears to be in company with Miss Rogers, if one can judge by his behavior, though her expression suggests otherwise.”
Caroline’s observance was correct; Miss Roberts had turned her back to Walter and was glancing about the ballroom with a distinct air of annoyance. “Perhaps he came with the Marquis?” I suggested, seeing Walter direct a brief remark to the gentleman beside him.
“Impossible! Why should a nobleman pay any regard to one as unimportant as Mr. Boland? Of course, I mean no disrespect to your friend Miss Huntsman, Margaret,” Marianne added quickly.
“I doubt Bianca would quarrel with you over the matter,” I said.
Across the room, Miss Roberts appeared to have reached the limits of her patience. Speaking a word to her cousin the Marquis, she left the gentlemen without acknowledging Walter at all and moved in the direction of a large-proportioned woman who was sitting in conversation further up the room. Walter watched her go with a confused expression, then glanced to our side of the hall. His gaze fell on me, and I felt a slight nervousness flutter through my middle as Walter caught the attention of the Marquis, gesturing with eagerness. After a moment of silent observation, the Marquis nodded his head, and the two gentlemen moved to cross the room.
“Heavens, are they truly coming to speak with us?” Marianne said in surprise. She opened her fan and began fluttering it vigorously before her. “I do not wish to be seen as friendly with Mr. Boland, but if he brings the Marquis with him, I shall not be the one to send them away.”
Before either Caroline or I could reply, the gentlemen reached us. The Marquis remained a little behind Walter and bowed slightly when our eyes met. Walter did not bow, but began at once to talk in an over-loud tone.
“Well, this is a chance, is it not? I hadn’t thought to see you here this evening, Meg. How do ye do? I am just back from a jaunt abroad, as you must know. Rum time to return to England, but it couldn’t be helped. Still, I daresay we shall make something of it, shan’t we, Halford?” he added, looking back at his friend.
“Mr. Boland,” I replied, too stunned by his familiar use of my Christian name to say anything else. Marianne’s jaw was hanging slightly open, and Caroline stifled a noise that I could not be certain was not an amused laugh. Walter appeared not to have noticed anything was amiss.
Behind him, the Marquis cleared his throat very slightly, and Walter blinked once. “I say, I’d nearly forgotten. Allow me to introduce my friend to you. William Thomas Roberts Cunningham, the Marquis of Halford. This is Margaret Kingston, a friend of my sister’s and niece to the Duke of Waterford,” he said with a knowing look and a wave of his hand.
The Marquis made an elegant bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Kingston,” he said. His voice was as refined as his manners. I returned the courtesy and introduced Caroline and Marianne, the latter of whom continued to flirt her fan and smile rather more than necessary every time the Marquis turned in her direction.
The sound of the company dropped slightly as the musicians began to prepare their instruments for the start of the ball. Walter turned to me, looking eager again. “What say we stand up together for this first set, eh Meg?”
“I thank you for the attention, Mr. Boland,” I began, glancing at Caroline and feeling a little flustered at the unexpected request. “I would accept, but—,”
“Ah, there you are Miss Kingston!” Lady Cowper sailed toward us, the long fringe of her shawl swinging wildly as she moved. “I have come to collect you for the dancing, my dear. I must introduce you to Lord Quincy, a most desirable connection indeed.” Her eyes fell on the gentlemen, and she frowned deeply at the sight of Walter’s crooked cravat.
Walter looked to me again. “D--- it all, Meg, you can dance with him any old time. I haven’t seen you this age at least.” Lady Cowper’s disapproving look darkened further at this speech, but Walter failed to observe it.
“Mr. Boland, perhaps we should retire and allow the ladies to keep their engagements,” the Marquis said with another formal bow toward Lady Cowper. She nodded in approval, but continued to frown until both the Marquis and Walter had moved away toward the other end of the ballroom.
“I shall have a word with Lady Jersey about that young man,” she murmured to herself as she seized my elbow and led me away. “These schemes of hers have gone entirely too far.” I caught Caroline’s eye as I followed Lady Cowper; she smiled broadly and gave me a little nod of encouragement before moving along the room with Marianne.
Caroline’s predictions for the evening were surprisingly accurate. I began the evening partnering Lord Quincy (a polite, reserved man with somewhat sad-looking eyes), then was introduced to a veritable crowd of other gentlemen by Lady Cowper: Sir William Temple, Lord Hargrave, Lord Marlborough, Sir Henry Davenport, and finally the Duke of Wiltshire for the two dances leading into the supper break. I found myself grateful for Lady Cowper’s management, as it kept Walter from doing more than hovering nearby between dances. (I am certain he would have approached and demanded a dance if an opportunity presented itself, but he now seemed aware that angering Lady Cowper was a foolish thing to do.)
The Duke of Wiltshire was by far my least enjoyable partner. From the moment we stood up together, he seemed determined to be as forward as Walter. His eyes were overly bright, and he smelled strongly of port. During our dance, he leered most dreadfully and made uncouth remarks on my figure. My cheeks were soon hot with embarrassment at his behavior. I was beginning to despair at Caroline’s accuracy as we waited for the second of our two dances (for we were certainly to be partners during the supper break) when the rich tones of a gentleman’s voice sounded behind me.
“Wiltshire, Lord Marlborough has asked me to tell you he wishes for a word in the card room,” the Marquis of Halford said, stepping up beside the Duke.
“What can that curmudgeonly old fool want now?” the Duke grumbled. “Can he not see I am busy?” He smirked, gripping my hand and pulling me closer to him. I caught another whiff of his sour breath and opened my fan discreetly. I did my best to look as though I was merely too warm as I fluttered it before my face to clear the air.
“He did not say, but I think it wise not to keep him waiting. I shall keep Miss Kingston company whilst you are away, if you wish.” The Duke grumbled again, but relinquished his tight grip on me and moved toward the card room door. The music began again as he passed out of sight.
“If you will allow me, Miss Kingston, I will replace the partner I have so ungraciously taken from you,” the Marquis said, extending his hand.
“I am most grateful to you, my lord,” I replied, and we stepped into the dance together.
“Wiltshire may be one of the most influential men here, but I could not watch you blushing at his ill-mannered flattery without wishing to rescue you from him,” he continued. I glanced up and found him looking at me with an intensity I had never seen in a man’s eyes before. It was not bold staring such as Walter did, nor the hungry look I had seen in the Duke. This was something different, more intimate, and I found myself blushing again for utterly different reasons.
“If it were polite to speak the truth of one’s opinion, I might venture to agree,” I said quietly, looking down at his cravat. “But I do not wish to speak ill of anyone with whom I am so newly acquainted.”
“A charming reply. I honor you for it. Other young ladies are not so guarded on entering society.”
We danced in silence for a few minutes then, and I admired the grace with which the Marquis moved through the figures. Perhaps it was only because I had so recently been dancing with the odious Duke, but I thought it by far the most pleasant experience of the evening.
“Have you had an opportunity to attend the opera this Season, Miss Kingston?” he asked as we made our way down the set.
“Not yet, sir, but I hope we shall do so before long. Are they not featuring one of the famous works by Herr Mozart?”
“I believe so, though I confess I have yet to attend myself. When you have been, you must tell me what you think of it. I saw several of his works performed during my time on the Continent, and they were by far the most enjoyable.”
“I too am partial to his music. Do you know which opera is being performed?”
The Marquis smiled slightly, his eyes glinting in the bright lights of the ballroom. “I believe it is a story about the illicit misadventures of a roguish nobleman. Highly dramatic material for the stage, is it not?” My eyes widened briefly in surprise, and he chuckled. “Oh, come, Miss Kingston, do not look so startled. It is all in good fun.”
“I cannot agree with you there,” I said, shaking my head. “Such subjects are hardly appropriate for refined company…,” I trailed away, unwilling to finish my remark. (I was thinking of the rumors about his behavior Caroline had hinted at, but I did not wish to appear indelicate or gossiping.)
“Very prudent words,” the Marquis said, then turned the subject. “My friend Mr. Boland is on close terms with your family, I believe.”
“I fear it would be an exaggeration to put it so, my lord,” I replied. “His mother married a close acquaintance of my father, and it was that gentleman who first brought Mr. Boland into connection with my family. We were on more intimate terms with General Huntsman and his first wife, and his daughter is still a dear friend.” After a moment’s consideration, I continued, “Might I inquire as to how you are acquainted with Mr. Boland? I know little of his connections outside of those we share.”
“I was introduced to Mr. Boland during his first year at Oxford. I was completing my own education, and we met several times at our local gentlemen's club. We renewed our acquaintance during our individual travels on the Continent, and returned at the same time.”
I nodded, but did not reply to this. I still found it odd that someone as well-bred as the Marquis could find the company of Walter worth keeping.
When the dance ended, the Marquis offered me his arm. “If we move quickly, we shall reach the supper room before Wiltshire can come and claim you again,” he said with a nod. I glanced to where he had indicated; the Duke stood there in conversation with Lady Cowper, looking disgruntled. “Come, he is not looking. Now is our moment.” The Marquis tucked my hand through his arm in a deft movement and swept us both away just as a large party passed between us and the Duke.
“My Lord, is this not highly improper?” I asked as we walked. “I should not like to offend Lady Cowper.”
“On the contrary. Her expression clearly sanctions us to make an opportune escape,” the Marquis said. He led me into the supper room and found us seats at a table near the corner. “And now, I shall endeavor to distract you from your scruples about abandoning the Duke of Wiltshire by enjoying your company far more than he could do himself.”
Despite my fears, I did enjoy our conversation during supper, and I parted from the Marquis reluctantly afterwards. Caroline and Marianne were both still engaged with their partners, and Lady Cowper appeared to be in a rather heated conversation with Lady Jersey. It was in this moment of inattention that Walter found me.
“A fine chance, meeting like this, Meg,” he said, recalling his remarks from our earlier conversation. “I have been hoping to see you for an age.”
“Mr. Boland, I would thank you to remember that familiarity is hardly appropriate in such a public place,” I said quietly, placing a rather heavy emphasis on his name. I felt suddenly fatigued and did not feel equal to conversing with him.
Walter smiled again, an amused look coming into his eyes that I did not like at all. “I hardly think we need worry about that, you being such close friends with Bee and all. It is a wonder we do not see more of one another, really.”
“It is not surprising to me in the slightest,” I said. My throat felt rather tight, but I continued. “I cannot in good conscience associate with any man who treats young ladies in the way you have been doing. Unless you can speak with civility, I shall bid you good evening.” I turned away from him, looking for some sign of my family.
“Come, there’s no call for that,” Walter said, moving to stand in front of me again. “I suppose you have been listening to the d--- gossips of the Ton. I would not credit half of what they say. They blast Halford with infamy, after all, and yet see how many mamas are snatching for him.” He glanced toward a large group of women, all of whom had gathered around the Marquis.
I watched for a moment, and a little flare of nervous excitement fluttered inside me when our eyes met again. The corner of his mouth lifted in a satisfied smile, and then he was looking away, attending to something one of the young ladies surrounding him was saying. The little flare burnt out, and I felt somewhat deflated.
Beside me, Walter was frowning. “I must say, I didn’t expect to receive a lecture from you, Meg. You who have always been such a quiet little thing. I see I shall have to amend my opinion.” He looked me up and down in a manner I did not like at all. My weariness, momentarily dispelled by the connection with the Marquis, now returned in full force. The lights of the ballroom seemed to glare; the music was harsh and loud. Suddenly I wished very much to be quiet and alone.
“Mr. Boland, you must excuse me now. I imagine Mother is concerned about my absence,” I said. Before he could respond, I pushed my way between two gentlemen who were conversing nearby and moved quickly through the crowd. Though I did my best to appear confident, I fear I scurried rather than sailed away from him. I could not know for certain, but it felt as though his gaze was on me the entire time.
I could not immediately find either of my parents, so I made my way to the ladies’ sitting room instead. It was blessedly empty when I entered, and I collapsed in exhaustion onto a settee. My hands were trembling slightly; the encounter with Walter had left me feeling weak and nervous.
I missed three dances before Mother came to fetch me. When she inquired about my reason for hiding, I claimed the lateness of the hour had merely fatigued me. There was still quite a large crowd when we returned to the ballroom. I did my best not to appear discomfited, but with each dance I felt myself growing wearier, both with the exertion and with keeping a watch for Walter. The Marquis did not approach me again, but each time we saw one another, he smiled in a knowing fashion.
Father finally noticed my fatigue when I returned quite out of breath from a quadrille with Mr. Sutton. He spoke to Mother quietly, then ordered the carriage. As we moved to the hall, Caroline Graham hurried over to bid us farewell.
“You are leaving so soon? It is barely two hours since supper!” Her expression changed to concern as she saw my face. “You look pale, Margaret. Are you quite well? There is no need to answer; I can see you are not. You must rest. I shall call on you tomorrow, if you are well enough, and we may save all our discussion until then.”
I nodded and murmured a word or two in farewell, distracted by a sudden glimpse of Walter moving in our direction. Thankfully, Caroline squeezed my hand and returned to her mother without further delay, and I was able to lean on Father’s arm until we climbed into the carriage.
“Margaret dear, I understand you are fatigued, but you must learn to build up a little endurance to these late evenings,” Mother said, only mildly reproving.
“Helen, perhaps it is best to let her be,” Father said gently, laying a hand on her knee. “I would be winded if I had danced with as many people as Margaret did tonight.” He winked at me, and I smiled back, leaning my head against the side of the carriage.
Mother’s countenance glowed with pride. “Yes, you were certainly the most admired young lady of the evening. Lord Quincy was most attentive, asking you for two dances. Lord Marlborough and the Duke of Wiltshire seemed much struck, and in general they are considered most particular judges of beauty.”
“Crusty old bores,” Father muttered with a glance at me.
“Crusty or not, they are influential. It is all as I planned it to be.” Mother sighed contentedly and settled back in her seat. “I will be very much surprised if Margaret’s hand is not solicited before the month is out.”
“I still do not see the necessity of all this fuss,” Father said. “She is barely eighteen.”
“I was eighteen when we met, if you recall. And it was no simple matter for a Welsh country girl to catch the attention of General Kingston, distinguished military man and brother to the Duke of Waterford.” She shook her head. “No, I am determined that Margaret shall not suffer the spiteful behavior I did. She will begin at the head of society, and remain above the petty squabbles of the Ton.” Neither Father nor I were inclined to argue the point, so we rode the rest of the way in near silence.
And now I shall conclude my letter and go down to breakfast. I dread teatime in the afternoon; some, if not all of my partners from the ball are likely to call on us, and I shall have to entertain every one of them. It would be much more pleasant to remain in bed for the entire day and never leave.
Love,
Margaret
