Chapter Text
“You look fine Ophelia!” A middle aged woman, brown hair and a concerned demeanor, watches as her daughter, in her late teens, fusses in a mirror. Moving strands of hair, perfectly curled, every which way on her head, very meticulously.
“Mama, this is my first ball of the season. I have to look perfect.” Her black ringlets are mostly pinned into a beautiful updo, with a few strand cascading down to her shoulders. A peach gown drapes her body with an opaque floral over skirt. A sigh escapes her lips.
Her mother steps behind her and examined her daughter in the mirror. She puts her hands on her shoulders. “You look beautiful dear.” She gives her daughter a small smile for encouragement. Ophelia gives her the same smile back.
A loud knock from the door echoes throughout the room. A faint female voice can be heard from the other side. “Ma’am the carriage is outside awaiting miss Beckett’s arrival.” Footsteps can be heard trailing off down the hallway.
A sigh escapes Ophelia’s lips. “Okay. I think I’m ready.” She closes her eyes to gather her thoughts. Her mother grabs her hand and they walk together through the door and out to the carriage. A butler helps both into the carriage and closes the door behind them. Ophelia’s hazel eyes are once again overcome with a look of anxiety. “Do you think I’m ready mama?” She looks over to her mother for comfort.
Her mother smiles and grabs both her hands. “Ophelia you’ve been training for this day since your childhood. Of course you are ready.” She sits back and looks out the window of the carriage as it starts to move shakily down the gravel pathway. “Any man would be lucky to have you as their wife.”
Ophelia nods. “I just hope it’s everything I’ve wished for.” She looks down at her gloved hands. The carriage continues to wobble back and forth on the slow ride down to the first ball of the season, The Cavendish Ball.
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The halls of the Cavendish estate are lined with gorgeous arrangements of fresh flowers. Every year Lady Cavendish chose only the best and most beautiful decor to be on display in her home. She was known to be quite the bossy hostess if anything was out of place on the one night a year her family was on display for the ton to see.
All attending follow the same color pattern and dress code. Each eligible misses dressed in pastels to compliment the flowers. Each eligible bachelor with a freshly picked flower inside his jacket pocket. Mamas lining the outside of the ballroom floor, watching their children dance with potential marriage prospects for the season.
The Beckett carriage makes its way around to the front of the Cavendish estate. A butler holds out his hand for Ophelia and her mother to step out of the carriage. Ophelia glances up at the night sky, faint specks of light scattered across it. Her mother nods to the butler to say thank you and she grabs her daughter’s hand to lead her inside.
The landscape of people gathered through each hall and room seemed like more than what their small town usually held. People must’ve come from all over to vie for a chance at marriage this year. Ophelia breathes in and out to slow her heartbeat. She didn’t want to seem too nervous coming into her first ball.
She gazes upon the crowd, the ones already dancing and desperate girls on the sidelines waiting to be asked. As she and her mother gracefully make their way around greeting each acquaintance, the people around the room seem to trade glances with her.
A glance at the floor is met with a set of boots. She brings her eyes up to find a well manicured man. A well combed brown quaff on his head, and a trimmed mustache above his lips. He looked to be in his late 20’s. A polite smile crosses his lips. He holds out his hand for hers. “Why hello I do not believe we have met yet. I am Sir George Cavendish.” Ophelia obliges and places her gloved hand inside his.
She politely curtsies for him. “I am Ophelia Beckett. It’s a pleasure to meet you sir.” She can feel her mama’s gaze behind her. A slight sweat threatens to fall from her brow. A light chuckle escapes from her. Sir Cavendish motions to the dance floor. “Would you like to dance with me?” Ophelia nods. “Absolutely.”
They make their way to the dance floor. Ophelia had learned almost every dance her mother had shown her. Perfect with each step, as not to rudely step onto her partners feet. This was the first time she’d done it with an actual partner. The music starts to play a light musical ballad and the movements of her and her partner seem to be perfectly timed. The steps repeating in her mind as the song continues. Her eyes locked to his coat, as to avoid eye contact.
He tried to start polite conversation. “So Miss Beckett… I do believe I have not seen you at this ball before am I correct?” He steps around her and continues with his steps. She nods nervously. “Y-yes. Well I mean this is my first season.” As they come back around to face one another he smiles at her. “Ah. I see.” He twirls her around and a few steps later he continues. “Do you have any prospects this season miss Beckett?”
She frowns in confusion. As she continues her steps she answers. “What are you implying sir?” He looks at her unchanged. “Well you look as if you should’ve had some experience in the marriage mart. I’m only asking if you’ve been with other men before.” She stops moving along to the music. Glaring at him as he shares a confused face. “Excuse me?”
He giggles uncomfortably. “Miss people are staring.” His eyes dart around at the many people now locked into the drama unfolding. She scoffs at his ignorance. “Thank you sir I bid you farewell.” She turns abruptly and stomps out of the hall. Her mother hastily catches up behind her.
“Ophelia!” She grabs her arm. “Where are you going? That was very rude of you.” Ophelia turns around to her mother, tears stinging her eyes. “I wanna go home mama.” Her mother looks at her with concern and nods. “Alright dear. Let’s go.”