Chapter Seventeen

I skip breakfast the next day and take Amore out for a ride across my estate. It’s bizarre knowing that every blade of grass, every dandelion, every fallen leaf, belongs to me. I’ve had a penny to my name for the past couple of years and now I have a huge mining fortune and a large house and an apartment which I haven’t seen yet.

I discover that, in the far corner of the grounds, there’s a small brook which babbles along merrily. I dismount and flop onto the grass, letting Amore drink the water whilst I wash my dusty face. Although I’m enjoying the rich lifestyle, I have to admit that, I am wondering how long I’ll be living it for. After all, I can’t be Elizabeth Hitches forever, can I? Although, how am I supposed to go back to being someone who’s supposed to be dead? I thought that my whole life was a lie before but now I have spun such a large web of lies that, in truth, I don’t know what the truth is anymore. You see, where does the truth become a lie and the lie become the truth? I often wonder whether telling the truth is the right thing to do. Surely, if you’re telling a lie to protect someone else (me) lying’s alright, isn’t it? What if someone would die if I didn’t lie? Is lying as bad as they make it seem? My thoughts continue along this vein for some time before I glance at my watch and realise that it’s time for lunch. I haven’t eaten yet today but I’m not hungry. However, I don’t think I could face Hill’s disapproving face if I didn’t turn up for a meal twice in a row. To make my afternoon more ominous, Rosaline has decided that I must prepare for the ball straight after lunch. How I envy men and their simple attire.

I gallop Amore back to the stables and hand him over to Middleton who seems to be the only servant on this estate who actually seems to like me. Either that or he just likes my horse. With Middleton, it’s hard to tell.

I eat lunch in my riding clothes despite Hill’s pointed coughs. I ignore him and focus on the plate of ham and cheese in front of me, ignoring Charles’ smirks as Hill becomes more and more indignant. At times I don’t know which is more insufferable; Charles or Hill.

After lunch, I rush upstairs to find that Rosaline has made a bath and is waiting, towel in hand.

“Come on, Miss Elizabeth,” She says when I enter my room, “We’re on a tight schedule.”

“Do you happen to know when the ball starts?” I ask as she pulls my t-shirt off over my head.

“Eight o’clock, Miss.” She says.

“It’s only two o’clock now!” I bluster indignantly.

“Yes, but we must get you looking perfect for the handsome Sebastian Church.” She says, winking at me. What is it with servants and trying to set me up with the damned Sebastian Church?

I sigh and allow her to scrub my back with some sort of rose-scented scrub. In some ways, I miss the grime of poverty; at least I didn’t have to change several times a day. After I’ve been left to wallow in the bath for an hour or so, Rosaline orders me to get out. She dries me down as though I am unable to dry my own body before telling me to wait while she fetches a ball dress.

“What do you think of this, Miss?” She asks, brandishing a black gown with lace sleeves.

“It’s perfect,” I say, “Far better than pastel pink.”

“No, I don’t think pink would go with your personality.” She observes. Despite her formality, I can’t help but like Rosaline.

I allow myself to be strapped into a constraining implement called a corset before the dress is tugged over my head. The corset makes me feel faint but Rosaline tells me that it makes me look beautiful. It stops me from being able to run, that’s what it does. I do believe that, men foist such garments on women so that we’re unable to run away from them.

She pulls my hair back into a romantic up do before painting my lips their now customary vermillion.

“Do you want the emeralds or pearls, Miss?” She asks as the clock chimes seven.

“Pearls tonight, I think.”

She drapes a clasp of pearls around my throat as well as placing pearl pendants in my ears.

“A tiara?”

“No, I think I’d rather keep it simple tonight.”

“Quite right, Miss, you don’t want to look like a jewellers display mannequin.” She says. Yes, I like Rosaline.

I smile as she offers me a pair of black silk gloves and a small bag. She smiles back and her thin face is transformed. She looks positively pretty.

I make my way down the sweeping staircase and into the entrance hall where Charles is waiting, looking at an interesting-looking landscape involving a women, a dog and a duck. I cough quietly but, in the large room, it echoes. He whips around, reaching inside his jacket for what I know to be a gun. When he sees me, his face relaxes into a wide smile.

“You shall be the most beautiful woman at the ball tonight.” He says as one of the footmen opens the door for us. “Your carriage awaits milady.”

A large carriage which is drawn by two almost-white grey horses is waiting with man who introduces himself as Geoffrey Firth in the driver’s seat. Charles attempts to help me in. I ignore his hand and hoist myself up.

“Tell me, will the carriage turn back into a pumpkin at midnight?” I ask Geoffrey.

He laughs but doesn’t say anything.

It’s only a short drive to Mr Kepton’s estate next door but, by the time we get there, I have already decided that I prefer taking the carriage to going in the helicopter.

The ball is in full swing by the time we rock up in the carriage. Mr Kepton and a slightly plump woman who must be Mrs Kepton, wait for us on the steps.

“My dear Miss Hitches,” Kepton simpers, “How wonderful it is that you could come. This is my wife, Beatrice.” He indicates to his wife who smiles and clasps her hands between her two plump paws.

“Might I introduce Charles Grey?” I say and Kepton and his wife both simper and smile. Charles looks bored.

“Come this way.” Beatrice says, showing me into a large ballroom where couples are already whirling around the dance floor.

“Would you care to dance?” Charles says as soon as we’re in the ball room.

I smile and escort him to the dance floor where the orchestra is playing a delicate waltz.

It’s odd how, whilst I was starving and living on the streets, these people were dancing and eating fine food. They could’ve tried to help people like me and yet they chose to ignore the rest of the world and throw lavish balls and wear rich jewels. Even though I don’t know them, I hate them already.

I dance a waltz with Charles before Mr Kepton asks to dance the foxtrot. I’m glad I was taught these dances before I left The Cottage otherwise I would look a fool dancing with the ageing Mr Kepton.

“So, Miss Hitches, how is Park Manor treating you?” Mr Kepton puffs as we whirl around the other partners.

“Quite well,” I say, “I’m particularly fond of the lake.”

“Yes, we considered buying the place but Mrs Kepton didn’t care for all the towers and endless stairs.”

“Indeed?” I say, “I think the stairs and towers are all part of the charm of the place.”

“Well,” He says as the dance draws to a close, “Each to their own.”

When the orchestra plays the final note, he bows before taking my arm and propelling me towards two plain girls who look about my age.

“May I present you Alice Green and Lucinda Gardiner?” Mr Kepton says, “Alice, Lucinda, this is Miss Elizabeth Hitches.”

I murmur hello to the two girls. The one called Lucinda glares down her long, beaky nose at me whilst Alice fiddles with her flat mouse-brown hair.

“So you’re the famous Elizabeth?” Lucinda asks imperiously.

“Yes,” I say, standing up straight like my mother taught me, “I am.”

“Are you American?” Alice asks, twirling a strand of hair around a stubby finger.

“Yes,” I say, “I’m from Atlanta.”

“How lovely.” Lucinda says although she doesn’t make it sound lovely at all.

“Are you going to introduce me to this charming creature?” A deep voice asks. I turn around to find myself looking at a very tall, dark and handsome young man.

“Elizabeth Hitches, this is Sebastian Church. Sebastian Church, this is Elizabeth Hitches.” Lucinda says tonelessly.

“Would you like to dance?” Sebastian asks. I see Lucinda glaring at me. I nod.

“So, how are the lions treating you?” He asks as soon as we’re on the dance floor.

“The lion?”

“The women standing against the walls.” He says, indicating to the women who are now glaring at me from their positions by the walls. Charles is glaring at me too. I ignore him.

“They don’t look particularly happy, do they?” I say, laughing daintily.

“Well, you see, they are jealous.” He tells me as we waltz gently across the floor.

“Jealous?”

“Well, you are the most beautiful thing to come into these parts.” He says lightly.

“I am not beautiful, my maid is merely a good makeup artist.” I say, smiling into his handsome face.

He laughs. “I’m certain that you’re being modest.”

“I’m never modest.” I declare.

“In any case, would you like to eat dinner with me?”

I glance over at Charles, who happens to be dancing with the haughty Lucinda. He glares at me as if to tell me that it serves me right.

“I would love to.” I say smiling, thinking that I got the better bargain.

The dance ends and everyone claps. I say something about going to find some champagne before I leave Sebastian.

“Your friend, Charles, is a wonderful dancer.” Says Lucinda as I search for a glass.

“Yes, he is, isn’t he?”

“I should like to see more of him.”

“Well,” I lie, “I know that he will want to see a great deal more of you.”

She blushes and smiles. I laugh inwardly, delighted by my own cleverness. Lucinda perusing Charles. How I look forward to seeing this.

I smile as I watch Lucinda sashay up to Charles, resting a thin hand on his shoulder. I turn around to find a thin man with pale blonde hair and a pale, harshly featured face staring back at me.

“Phillip Gardiner.” He tells me.

I sigh and introduce myself before I’m led off for yet another dreary dance where I’m expected to make small talk with imbeciles. Charles, meanwhile is coerced into dancing with the plain Alice Green who blushes every time he looks at her. I find myself smiling.

Author's Note

don't hold back on the criticism