Daughter of Liberty

Greeting into Society

Many a man threw himself into battle bravely to fight for what he believed. Strength was not the fear in him, but the way it did not paralyze. Weapon in hand, feet grounded to the battlefield, they would not turn their backs.

"You look as if you are going to kill someone," a sickly sweet voice interrupted. Lane focused her attention away from the door she was glaring at.

This was her own battlefield. "I am only mulling over the best strategy to survive the night," she said absentmindedly, glancing down at her ball gown slippers to remind herself they were not caked in mud. She would have taken a smelly torn uniform over this dress. The pink was just gaudy.

"Linnea, mother asked you to conduct yourself in the way of a lady," Eleanor huffed. Only Lane could drag out the less delicate side of her sister.

Lane waggled her eyebrows, "So thinking strategically is not the way of a lady."

The sarcasm went right over Eleanor's head as her smile widened, "Exactly!" She swished around the dressing room, practicing her walk. This would both be their first public ball. Eleanor was welcoming it with much bravado while Lane had quite literally packed a bag for a quick get a way in the case of an emergency.

Lane clutched her fan. A lousy weapon. "Surely, I do not need to be introduced into society at such a delicate time."

A shadow darkened across her sister's face. "Linnea" was all she offered in warning. Of course. No politics. Even if the prospect of a Civil War looming at their doorstep, Lane was to be ignorant toward it.

The oak door was thrown open and Lane jumped back. Adeline Carrington, or Lady Carrington stepped gracefully into the room. She made her way immediately to Eleanor, "You look stunning. The picture of a proper young lady." Of course she did. Lane silently noted the soft blue tones that complimented Eleanor's blonde curls.

After Lady Carrington was finished with Eleanor, she noticed Lane. "Why, Linnea you look-" her lips pursed. She looked like her own mother. "You look well."

Linnea and Eleanor were sisters by the same father. Lord Carrington was a scoundrel. That's what the people would whisper. And Linnea's mother would be blacklisted as improper and foolish.

"Are we going to get this over with," Lane asked, hoping to escape the uncomfortable silence that had befallen them.

Lady Carrington plastered on her hostess smile, "This ball is very important to your father and I. We are to show our countrymen that we prosper unitedly under the guidance of King George the third." Eleanor stepped to the right side of her mother and Lane moved to the left.

Two deep breaths and then they were moving. Lane marched down the familiar hallway, listening to her own heartbeat. She could not turn her back. She was not a coward.

The wide doors opened. Lane paused, her gaze sliding across the men and women milling about in her home. Soft music played from the band, but to her it was a funeral march.

Something sharp dug into Lane's side. Lady Carrington was guiding her through the crowd with a sharp hand. Lane could not muster a smile for everyone they passed as they cut through the crowd. Had their names been announced? She had not been paying attention.

The place she had grown up in was no longer safe. They had flooded her base with enemies. "Edes, it is a pleasure to see you here," a familiar voice spoke in the crowd.

Lane narrowed in on her father's voice and saw the man he was talking to. She broke away from Lady Carrington and slipped into the crowd. She pulled on her dress to keep people from stepping on it. How unbearably hot. They should crack more windows open.

Without plan, Lane appeared at her father's side. Theodore Carrington was spiritedly waving his hands as he spoke to the man. His hand flew back and planted itself directly in Lane's face. "Linnea- I am so sorry, I did not see you there!"

Linnea grabbed her nose and wiggled her face, "Well now you do see me." She had to make quick work of the little time she had. "Miss Lane Carrington, lovely to make your acquaintance." She brought her other hand out to the man.

With clear amusement, he shook it, "Mr. Benjamin Edes."

"Ah, the Gazette writer with a clear mind against English policies," Lane recalled bluntly.

At this, her father got over shock, "Daughter, that is quite enough. You are here to be enjoying yourself in dance. Find your sister," he commanded dismissively.

The same feeling of anger burned the tips of Lane's ears. Before she could answer in anger, she was forcefully pulled back. Lady Carrington had her by wrist and was pulling her to the side. They got all the way into the hallway before she let go.

Lane grabbed her wrist back, trying to ignore the sting, "What is wrong? I am participating in this ridiculous social setting!"

Lady Carrington's face green red under the powder, "You insolent brat! You are not permitted to go around- around shaking men's hands and greeting them so unashamedly!"

Lane crossed her arms, "So I am to dance and look pretty?"

"Quite precisely. And after that you will sit and perfect your needlework by my side until your father marries you off!"

The anger was quite dizzying. Lane found herself silent for fear she might scream. Before anyone saw amiss, Lady Carrington brought her back to the ballroom.

Eleanor was by her side then, whispering gossip and other useless morsels into her ear, but it was muffled. Eleanor was whisked away to dance and Lane retreated farther back.

"May I have this dance," a young man approached her. He had a smug smile that said he hadn't been refused this night or any night. Lane would have enjoyed crushing that but then she saw Adeline watching her.

Lane offered her hand, "I'm not allowed to refuse, but you should know you've wasted a dance on me."

The smile faltered as he brought her onto the dance floor. They began to prance like show ponies, "I will change your mind. I've changed many a woman's mind."

Lane's eyes narrowed, "I am not of a fragile constitution and neither are they. The women who fall prey to your charms simply grow weary of refusing you."

They turned, separating before he could respond. Lane focused on her steps. She did not wish to fall flat on her back.

When they rejoined, he held her hands more tightly. "Do you know who I am?"

At this, Lane snorted. Thank goodness the music and dancing was loud enough to cover it from Adeline. "You are right. You've changed my mind so quickly." Her tone dripped with mockery.

He ruffled his hair like a peacock, "My father is Governor Thomas Hutchinson."

Lane rolled her eyes, "Which makes you nothing. You are certainly not a governor."

The boy squeezed Lane's hands even more painfully but she did not show it. "My father confides in me often. What with this riffraff complaint, he needs to surround himself with wise counsel."

"Then why would you be there," Lane retorted. But this time, it seemed he took it especially hard.

The young man dipped her in the dance, but his hand dug into her back painfully. "Pretty faces like yours shouldn't make so much noise." And hidden in the dip with the large crowd, he forced his mouth onto hers.

Before Lane could react, he pulled her back up. She ripped her arm from him, bringing it to her lips. Lane looked up at his smug face. Blood rushed in her ears. Lane spit at him. And then she was moving. Her fingers rubbed against her lips, trying to wipe it away. She dodged Eleanor and Adeline. She made it all the way to the outside doors and welcomed the bitter cold.