The Heir

Chapter 6

The day of the ball, I awoke before dawn, but my nerves prevented me from drifting off again. Instead of lying in the dark with nothing to occupy my mind, I got out of bed. After turning on a lantern and pulling on a simple calico house dress, I crossed the sitting room into my study. I sat down to start writing a journal entry. Since my arrival, I had written several entries. Most of them detailed how annoying Mr. Cunningham had been that day, my intense dislike of English weather, and how I longed to wear a pair of pants again. Today, I had something more important to say:

Today's the day... The day that I've been secretly dreading since Mr. Hamm called out to us in the street. I'm going to a ball tonight in honor of his birthday. Mr. Cunningham assures me I have nothing to fear, but I don't believe him. Underneath the ball gown and superficial veneer of class, I'm still a 21st-century American girl. I'm not a lady! When I walk through those doors, I will stand out like a sore thumb. I'm going to fail. I know it! They will play music for a dance that I don't know, or I'll make a Star Trek reference and make a fool of myself. Interacting with Mary and Mr. Tanner is hard enough. I don't understand half of their cultural references, and when I let my guard down, I end up saying something that makes them feel as out of place as I do. I'm supposed to attend a party with the upper echelon of London society? That won't end badly! 

Another embarrassing possibility is that some chauvinist pig will say something racist, sexist, or classist, and I won't be able to bite my tongue. I doubt that verbally accosting a member of the peerage will land me in anyone's good graces. Heaven help me, if I swear. I can't sleep because I am so scared to mess this up. I can't see any scenario where tonight goes well. Mr. Cunningham will be so embarrassed.

Ugh. I need to snap out of this mindset. We are going to the Hamm's ball whether I like it or not. Mr. Cunningham says an Heir can do anything. I am going to that party, and I WILL wow them! I will dance, smile, and make incredibly witty conversation. I can do this. Maybe if I tell myself that enough, I'll believe it.

-Becca

Putting down the pen, I put my head in my hands. I hoped getting the nerves out of my body and onto the paper would relax me, but after reading what I wrote, it was no wonder why my stomach was churning worse than ever. I closed my eyes, trying to fight back the growing sense of impending doom. Every cell in my body was on edge, and at the rate my heart pounded, I was likely to have a coronary before breakfast.

"It's just a party," I said aloud, rubbing my temples.

"What is, Miss?"

The unexpected response made me jump out of my skin.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed, clutching my chest.

Mary, who was standing in the doorway, jumped, sending the basket of laundry she was holding flying across the room. She dived onto the floor, apologizing profusely. "I am so sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to disturb you!"

I knelt on the floor to help her. "No, Mary, it's alright! It was my fault."

"Miss, you shouldn't be helping! It's not proper," she insisted, yanking a towel from my hands. "I was clumsy."

"Don't be ridiculous!" I yanked the towel back and threw it into the basket. "I'm wound a bit tight this morning. It's completely my fault."

When the laundry was back in the basket, Mary and I stood.

"Why are you awake this early?" asked Mary, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment.

"I woke up and the nerves set in so badly I couldn't go back to sleep," I replied as I lowered myself into my desk chair. My leg started to bob up and down. "What time is it anyway?"