Chapter 1 #2
The trip to Ironvale House had been a most nervous one. It took thirty minutes in total, throughout which Lottie changed her mind a dozen times or more.
She knew she belonged there, and that she was doing nothing wrong. However, having spent her entire teenage years being told that she was worth less than nothing had taken its toll on her, and such habits were hard to kill.
Ironvale House was a tall-standing residence nearly twice the size of her aunt’s home.
Night had arrived, but the home was well lit from within, glowing bright as if it were the center of the world.
Lottie could hear music, laughter, and the sounds of enjoyment the likes of which she could not imagine being a part.
“My name …” she said again, terribly nervous, certain the footman was going to laugh in her face.
“It is required,” he said as he took a step across to block the door.
She was about to turn and run. She was about to curse herself for this foolish idea. She was about to admit that her aunt was right and that she did not belong there or among the people inside. Only then …
The front door was bracketed on both sides by stained glass, and with the darkness of night, the glass cast a reflection not unlike a mirror. Lottie caught her reflection; she paused on it, and she saw herself properly for the first time.
The emerald and gold gown, one that flowed down her body like silk from a spider’s web.
She saw her chestnut hair, worn in tight ringlets, framing her oval face, accentuating her soft features and gray eyes, which many had said were her best characteristic.
She saw her colored cheeks, her full lips, the golden necklace that swept across her neckline.
Most of all, she saw herself not as an imposition on her aunt, someone to be mistreated and abused, but as a lady. Perhaps for the first time.
“My name is Miss Charlotte Fitzwilliam,” she said, bringing herself up. “Daughter of Lord and Lady Harrowell, and I am here to make my debut.”
The footman blinked at the sudden change in her demeanor. For a moment, she thought he was going to press further, only for him to nod once, step to the side, and open the door.
“Of course, Miss Fitzwilliam, my apologies …” He stepped through the door and beckoned for her to follow.
Lottie could not help but beam as she followed him.
That was easier than I thought …
She was led through the main foyer of the expansive residence and then down a hallway where the noise from the ball was audible. The closer it came, the more Lottie’s heart raced. Never had she felt so nervous, and she was certain that things would only grow more difficult before that changed.
The footman led her into a vast hall. Its walls were polished wood, and its ceiling consisted of skylight windows.
Crystal chandeliers set the room ablaze in a warm orange glow, and the sound of music drifted throughout so the room felt alive.
What Lottie noticed most of all, however, were the people.
Scores of them were peppered across the hall.
Lords and ladies all, a cavalcade of colorful gowns and smart suits, smiling faces and bright eyes, people who should have felt like peers to Lottie but were more like strangers because she had never before found herself in a place like that with those of such high pedigree.
She balked when she reached the doorway. Her skin flushed, and her breathing turned heavy. Eyes scanning the hall, she noticed immediately those nearby who spotted her, all of whom seemed rather unimpressed by what they saw.
“Charles …” A middle-aged man in a dark suit quickly approached. He was tall and wide, his belly held back by his tailored suit, while his jowls wobbled as he spoke. “Who is this?”
“Ah, Lord Ironvale.” The footman bowed. “Another debutante has arrived.”
“She has …” Lord Ironvale looked at her curiously. “The debut has finished, Charles. She is late.”
“That –” Lottie stammered as her words caught in her throat. “That is my fault, My Lord. My carriage … the driver became lost.”
“Is that so?” He looked her over, focusing on her gown. “Tell me, dear, what is your name?”
Lottie opened her mouth to answer, forcing confidence onto herself because it was needed. However, before so much as a syllable left her mouth, she was cut off.
“Lord Ironvale!” a shrill voice spoke from over his shoulder. “Please, allow me to take care of this.”
Lottie’s Aunt Danvers appeared as if from nowhere. Almost as tall as Lord Ironvale, her Aunt Danvers was all limbs, with a neck twice as long as what looked normal. Her face, too, was long and gaunt, while her nose was far too small. By far, her most noticeable feature was her shock-red hair.
“Lady Danvers,” Lord Ironvale turned to address Lottie’s aunt. “You know this young lady?”
Her Aunt Danvers smiled warmly for Lord Ironvale, then turned it into a despicable sneer as she fixed her cold eyes on Lottie. It was a look that Lottie knew well, and it sent a shudder through her body; a feeling that warned her of what was to come. Nothing good.
“I do,” she said. “But please, do not waste your time with such things. You are needed.” She indicated back toward the hall and the guests.
Lord Ironvale frowned as he looked between them. “Yes, well, you know where to find me.” He gave Lottie a final confused look and left them.
The moment he was gone, Lottie’s aunt was on her.
“What do you think you are doing?” her aunt hissed at her as she stepped in closer, sure to keep her voice low. “I thought I told you to stay home!”
“I …” Lottie swallowed nervously. “I have every right to be here.”
“Right?” her aunt scoffed. “The only rights you have are those I give you. Did you stop to think why I did not allow you to come this evening? This is Rosalind’s night, and I will not have you shaming her.”
“I will do no such thing.” Lottie did not speak with nearly as much conviction as she wished. “I merely wish to present myself to the ton, as my parents would have wanted.”
“Present yourself?” her aunt scoffed again. “In that gown? Where did you find it, tell me? In an alleyway? Perhaps one of the dogs was using it as a blanket.”
“I … it was …” The room started to turn, and it was all Lottie could do to keep some semblance of composure. “It was my mother’s. I found it.”
“Mother, what are you …!” From beside her aunt, Rosalind suddenly appeared. She looked much like her mother, only younger, and her red hair was worn in curls so it seemed as if her head had caught fire. She paused when she saw Lottie, and then she laughed with mirth. “What is she doing here?”
“I was just asking the same question.”
“And what is that gown?” More mocking laughter.
Lottie took a step back without even realizing it. “Rosalind, you look lovely. I … I was hoping to debut, as is my right.”
Rosalind looked at her mother for confirmation. “She is not serious?”
“Leave us, Rosalind,” her aunt said. “I will handle this.”
Rosalind sighed and shook her head. “You are such an embarrassment, Lottie. You really ought to have stayed at home.” A final look of pity before Rosalind swept away.
“You must leave, now,” her aunt said. “Before you do any more harm.”
Lottie looked around the hall as if for support. She had always been alone in the world, so she did not know where it would come from. But surely, someone would see her, realize what was happening, and intervene? She had every right to be there!
She found that Rosalind had returned to her friends. They spoke in whispers, but their eyes glanced at Lottie often, followed by mocking laughter.
Others too, people whom she did not know, were starting to pay attention. Lottie’s body ran hot, sweat starting to bead on her skin, as she noticed them watching … shaking their heads … frowning at her with pity.
“Well?” her aunt asked. “Are you going to leave? Do not make a scene, girl.”
“I … I … I …”
Lottie turned and fled. She did not mean to do so.
She did not even realize that she was. But she hoisted up the skirt of her gown, held back the tears which welled, and sprinted from the hall as if her life depended on it.
The room turned, the ceiling lowered, the floor rose, and she stumbled through the halls, the foyer, and burst out the front door.
What had she been thinking? As if deserving something meant she had a right to it. While the way her aunt and cousin spoke to her was not a surprise, it was a grim reminder of her life, how it was, and how it would always be.
I am such a fool …
She sprinted down the driveway, not wasting time looking for a carriage. No idea what she was doing; all she knew was that she wanted to be as far from that place as possible.
Down the pathway she ran, tears falling from her eyes. Head down, she did not look ahead, or care to do so, praying that the street might open wide and swallow her whole.
And it was because she wasn’t looking that she ran headfirst into what felt like a brick wall …
“Oh!” she cried out, nearly falling, only for a pair of hands to snatch her and pull her to her feet. “I … I am so …”
Startled, body swaying, Lottie looked up. It hadn’t been a brick wall that she ran into at all, but a man. He stood tall and proud, dark and menacing, and when she met his piercing blue eyes, she wondered with a start if perhaps she had been better off at the ball.