“No, no... I don't want to...I can't...please, no…" Lorraine helplessly implored as she continued sobbing but her maid felt helpless as she did.
Her eyes glistened with more impending tears threatening to spill at any moment and her long eyelashes felt moist and heavy. Her beautiful face was streaked with dried and wet tears and the skin around her eyes were red and puffy which indicated that she had been crying for so long. She sniffled, her head hung down and she could barely see the material of her resplendent gown through the tears that blurred her sight. She was greatly despaired and there was no one to turn to for comfort except the maid who was still busy helping her fix her hair. She would have turned to her cousins if only they were receptive and empathetic to her plight but they were cold and indifferent. They had come into her room not to console her but to revel in watching her go through this sorrowful phase which they would inevitably later gossip about, rather glad that they were not in her shoes.
Why her? Why did it have to be her? She lifted her head a bit and was quick to catch the smirks on the faces of her three cousins before they noticed her gaze and quickly masked them with ingenuine sympathetic looks. Lorraine knew that she was the fairest of them all. In fact, all of England could testify to it.
Lorraine knew that she was more beautiful than her three cousins individually or even put together but she had to be made the black sheep by her aunt. Her three cousins, Louise, who was the oldest and more of a prudish bully and was three and twenty; Elizabeth who was the second and not only was she the most despicable of them all she was also a great flirt and was twenty, and Madeline who was the last, and too childish and naive, took after their haughty mother, aunt Veronica and was barely seventeen.
However, Lorraine had had no choice but to move in with the Crompton family after the demise of her parents at sea. There were rumours that her parents had either encountered a violent storm and had drowned at sea or that the ship had been attacked by pirates and everyone on board had been robbed and slaughtered. It didn't matter what manner they had died, what had shaken her was that they had left her orphaned in this world and at the mercy of Aunt Veronica, her mother’s older sister. And because she was only a girl, a good deal of her father's property had gone to her father's nephew, Harold, leaving her with something next to nothing and she had had no choice than to be in the custody of her aunt who had been making her life a living hell.
She knew exactly why her cousins had come to her room. They were not there to sympathize with her but to imprint in their minds, every tear that escape her eyes and kept ruining her makeup which the maid had had to retouch repeatedly. "You should be happy you are getting married, Lorraine." Louise finally spoke, "He's a Marquess and you will live a good life. Look at me, I'm still unmarried and still under my parents' roof, so I see no reason why you should be so sad about getting married when other maidens in your shoes would have been thrilled."
Lorraine wanted to snap at Louise and tell her that she would love to trade places with her anytime but she kept her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth and chose to ignore her instead. Her incessant crying made her feel tired and it seemed like her tears were already weary of adhering to her anguish and complying to their continuous downpour.
Lorraine decided that it was best not to force it and that Aunt Veronica would be very mad at her if she came in and saw Lorraine still unprepared and worst of all, still crying. She stared at her sad refection in the mirror and tried to think of any where she had seen this Marquess before. She couldn't remember what he looked like but she nonetheless tried to imagine that he was handsome, that he would be her knight in shining armour and would also love and treat her dearly.
She anchored her sorrow for that moment and tried to picture the Marquess in her mind's eye. She could faintly remember how he looked like in a ball she had once attended, but someone else also slipped into her mind too at that moment- a certain stranger she had also met on that fateful night at the ball. A stranger that had been a stranger to her but not to the others present at the ball, including her cousins. They had all known him. Even though he had a questionable reputation quite alright, the girls had secretly lusted after him nonetheless.
Finally, Lorraine heaved a sigh of resignation as the maid began to pin her hair in several places on her head before the mirror while she blankly stared at her pitiable reflection. And as her thoughts drifted back to the night of the ball where she had seen the stranger, the fresh tears that had been initially brimming in her eyes, froze, making no further attempts to spill.
She had met the mysterious stranger several months back before the recent unfortunate morning of her tears. Lorraine could still remember every detail almost vividly like it had occured just the previous night. She also remembered stepping down from the carriage at the ball after her cousins had alighted. Aunt Veronica had warned her strictly to always let her daughters make the first appearance in every occasion and Lorraine had humbly complied. She had no problem with who stepped down first or last from the carriage or who stepped into the ball room first as long as she was allowed to also attend the balls. Being the last however suited her and she was faring just well.
They had all been invited to a ball by the Duchess of Elwich and the first sight Lorraine had been astonished by was the magnificent manor that glowed in all its glory under the light of the full moon. Lorraine had tentatively alighted from the carriage, gaping with awe as she took in the glorifying sight of the grand ballroom which was a building on its own set apart from the manor, and the music that poured out of it almost got her curtsying several times and made her feet itchy to waltz around the dance floor with some gentleman which would be kind enough to oblige to have a dance with her, while the skirt of her gown whirled around her in harmony. Her imagination was so vivid that it was almost palpable.
Unlike her, her cousins hadn't been awed by the sight of the manor, for it was obvious that they had been invited numerous times to the Elwich's castle. "If we had any flies gracing the ball tonight, you'd inevitably end up with one buzzing down your throat." Louise said mockingly when she noticed that Lorraine was still gaping.
"Oh sis, I'm sure that the fireflies would love to pay homage and hers seems just like the perfect place." The youngest, Madeline piped in and the sisters all snickered. Lorraine immediately stopped gaping and smoothed her skirts with her palms, lowering her gaze to hide her embarrassment. She was older than Elizabeth and Madeline, but they derived pleasure from always poking fun at her at every chance they got.
As the girls turned and walked towards the entrance, Lorraine followed closely without a word and soon they appeared on the landing of one of the steps that led down into the almost crowded, colourful ballroom. The banister surrounding the round balcony and the stairs which had a red carpet on it were of golden colours. Everything that made up the ballroom was perfect and portrayed nothing but excellence and Lorraine felt like she could drown just from the sight of them all, especially the tapestries. The circuitous balcony was sparsely occupied by few of the guests while the colourful dancefloor below was more kaleidoscopic because of the bright colours of the different gown the female guests were clad in; the men however strictly stuck to black tail suits.
Elizabeth began to descend the stairs and the others followed. She was always like the leader of the pack despite the fact that Louise was older although considered weaker and docile. Apparently, Elizabeth had sighted the Duchess' son in the midst of some old couples and she was making her way towards him. He had his hands behind him and was smiling as he conversed with the guests.
Elizabeth knew that she had to play her cards right or she wouldn't get a chance to dance with him since almost all the young girls present in the ball already had their eyes for him and would jump at any opportunity they had to keep him by their sides till the end of the ball. The girls finally reached the floor below and began to mingle with their peers, subtly patting cheeks against one another’s and offering false smiles to those that wore prettier gowns or jewellry than theirs or were higher in the social rung than they were.
The dance had not yet begun so the guests had ample time to exchange pleasantries and catch up on the latest gossip which Elizabeth and her sisters would inevitably submit to their mother the next day. Lorraine was left to herself. She stood by the corner, close to the stairs they had descended from. She moved closer to stand beside a large flower pot that bore an artificial plant which literally towered over her and gave her the partial hideout she wanted.
Lorraine sighed and took out the scenario of the ball, revering in its happy atmosphere of gay laughter; the smell of the different scents of perfume that wafted up her nostrils and the distant aroma of sumptuous delicacies that invaded and filled her nostrils was promising. There were just so many beautiful gowns that she could hardly make up her mind about which was the finest.
Several young men glanced her way and she felt like recoiling deeper into the embrace of the branches of the artificial plant in embarrassment. She had come in a simple gown which had been one of Louise' old ones. The maid had been kind enough to add several finishing touches to it and when Lorraine had worn it, the maid had secretly complimented her that despite the simplicity of the gown, she was still the fairest of them all. Her cheeks turned rosy as more men who walked past her even with their wives or companion on their arms, still offered her second glances but no one came too close or tried to come make a conversation and that was relieving.
She sighed again. Within her, she was rather happy enough that she had been allowed to attend a ball after several weeks of being left behind in the house. Aunt Veronica had only allowed her to go to this ball because her husband had insisted on it, if not, Lorraine would have been in her room like every other night, humming to herself and thinking of the stars until she fell asleep. And now that she was here, she tried not to reveal how elated she was because she feared that Elizabeth would use it against her and perhaps talk her mother against letting her tag along next time.
Lorraine remained rooted to her spot while she keenly watched the scene around her. Several girls walked past her but their countenances had been austere. It was at that moment that she noticed the Marquess in the company of his sister, a Countess, descending another flight of rugged stairs and they had instantly mingled with the crowd. Lorraine had not really taken a good look at the Marquess because he had been of no interest to her, but the appearance of his sister held her attention though.
She was completely dressed in black from her pillbox hat down to her shoes, and through the net veil of her hat, Lorraine didn't miss the coldness of her eyes despite her plastered smile as she exchanged pleasantries with some of the guests whom she was familiar with. However, Lorraine also noticed one thing- the Marquess’ sister was extremely cautious not to go too deep into a conversation with anyone because her eyes kept wandering to partially monitored her brother who had wandered from her side and was busy exchanging pleasantries with more guests; he seemed to be acquainted with a lot of people in the ball. As for the Marquess’ sister, it seemed she could barely concentrate on anything being said to her since her attention wouldn’t leave her brother.
While conversing with the guests, she would fake a smile to pretend she was actually paying full attention to them and from the corner of her eyes, she'd watch what her brother was up to. Lorraine was rather familiar with Lady Kristine's story; she had overheard the girls discussing it in the drawing room one afternoon, during tea. It was said that her husband had died of a heart attack and she was mourning him, hence the reason for her black costume to the ball.
A week into mourning her husband, she had complained of having nightmares in the manor and had moved into her brother's estate because she couldn't bear to sleep in her room alone despite the tens of servants available to her, and ever since then, she had attended balls alongside her brother in black regalia, but Lorraine didn't know much about if the Marquess was married or not. No one had talked about if he fancied any maiden.
Lorraine finally tore her attention away from them and tried to focus on something else. She glanced around and noticed that Elizabeth had finally succeeded in getting Nathaniel's attention and was now laughing her heart out at any little thing he said even if it lacked humour. Louise was still in the midst of her friends close by, and Madeline, perhaps because of her small height was nowhere to be seen. She was probably lost in the crowd trying to find a man who would fancy her. All the girls were always anxious to get a date in balls such as these before the dance began. Lorraine was not hoping on dancing with anyone; being present in the ball alone made her mirthful and she prayed that it lasted all night.
Lorraine hadn't known what was going on until several gasps reached her ears and she noticed that not only did heads begin to turn, eyes also began to lift. She followed their gaze and saw most of the girls staring up with awe at a part of the balcony and even Louise looked close to swooning any moment from then. Confused, Lorraine followed their gazes and it was as if she stopped breathing the very moment she beheld him too. She had never thought that a man could look so beautiful, but here was one, looking as if God had specially sat down and carved out every single feature with utmost interest and cautiousness.
This fine specimen of a man was just the accurate definition of perfection and she couldn't help but let out her own gasp too. He was hunched over the golden banister, his hands bracing him up as he gently scanned the ballroom below as if looking for someone. His clothes were perfect but not as extravagant as most of the men present in the ball, but that didn’t stop him from looking any less unique.