Shadows of Society (19th century vampire romance)

The First Ball pt.1

As per Carmilla's directive, Lucy navigated the opulent ballroom with measured steps, her gaze fixed upon the noblewoman adorned in the gown of midnight blue that shimmered like the nocturnal sky.

Lucy took a moment to fully absorb the young lady's visage. The woman appeared several years her junior, with a complexion of such radiant depth that it seemed to absorb and reflect the soft glow of the chandeliers. Her dark skin, lustrous and smooth, sparkled with a brilliance that rendered Lucy momentarily breathless. The lady's face was a study in elegant symmetry, with high cheekbones that caught the light, a slender, aquiline nose, and full lips painted a deep, rich hue that complemented her gown. Her eyes, large and almond-shaped, were framed by thick lashes and held an enigmatic, almost otherworldly gleam.

Steadying her breath and suppressing the nervous perspiration gathering on her palms, Lucy swallowed her apprehension and approached the lady. "Excuse me, my name is Lucy Murray. I must confess, I am utterly captivated by your gown. You look exquisitely beautiful," she ventured, her voice wavering slightly.

For a brief, disconcerting moment, Lucy believed her words had fallen upon deaf ears. Then, the young woman turned, her expression marred by a sneer that struck Lucy like a physical blow.

"And who might you be?" the girl inquired, her tone laced with disdainful hauteur.

Lucy was taken aback, her heart sinking. She had not foreseen that her sincere compliment would be received with such froideur. The noblewoman and her retinue of five young ladies regarded Lucy with a collective air of scornful amusement.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," Lucy stammered, striving to maintain her composure. "I am Lucy Murray, niece of Baroness Carmilla Helsing. I have recently arrived from Ireland to sojourn in London. I merely wished to commend your gown."

"Ah, that clarifies your curious accent," the noblewoman responded with a sardonic smile. "Indeed, this gown is crafted from the finest silk available in London, imported at great expense from India by my father. Such luxury is likely beyond your ken."

A ripple of derisive laughter emanated from the group, while the noblewoman maintained her supercilious sneer.

Lucy felt a rush of mortification and confusion. Had she transgressed some unspoken social code? The nuances of high society were evidently more labyrinthine than she had imagined. It was not merely a matter of dancing, gossip, and idle chit-chat.

"Oh, well then, my apologies. I trust you will have a pleasant evening," Lucy managed to say before turning away with as much dignity as she could muster.

As she retreated, Lucy swallowed the lump forming in her throat. This was not the encounter she had envisioned. She began to perceive that her understanding of social niceties was woefully inadequate, and that she had perhaps been somewhat naive in her expectations.

Nevertheless, the evening was still young, and the room teemed with guests. There remained ample opportunity to forge new acquaintances and navigate the treacherous waters of London's high society.

Lucy had endeavored to engage in conversation with several young women, but none seemed inclined to converse with her, particularly after she disclosed that she was not a noblewoman by birth. The most favorable remark she received was a slew of thinly veiled jests about her quaint manner of speaking.

Lucy felt rather foolish and embarrassed now, recognizing her naivety. Had she truly expected these individuals to embrace a mere outsider into their exclusive circles?

Defeated, she returned to Carmilla, a melancholic expression shadowing her face, which immediately
drew her aunt's attention.

"How fares your evening, my dear? You appear quite disheartened."