Tomorrow's Crimes ll Moriarty the Patriot

One Debut, Forty-Seven Proposals, Too Much Paper

The morning after her debut ball, Adelaide found herself surrounded by an overwhelming array of evidence that last night had irrevocably changed her social standing. The Ravenscroft Manor's normally spacious morning room seemed to shrink under the weight of calling cards, letters, and invitations that threatened to engulf the mahogany breakfast table. Even the pale spring sunlight streaming through the tall windows appeared overwhelmed, creating trembling shadows across the sea of cream-colored paper and gilt-edged envelopes.

"Forty-seven marriage proposals before breakfast!" Lady Catherine's voice trembled with barely contained hysteria, her hands shaking slightly as she reached for her tea cup. "A complete schedule of invitations for the season's key events, personal notes from the most influential hostesses—" She began sorting letters into precise piles, her movements carrying the feverish energy of someone teetering on the edge of control.

"And that doesn't even account for the informal inquiries through family connections," her mother added, efficiently organizing another stack. "I'd say your debut is shaping up to be the most successful of the season, darling!" 

Adelaide fought the urge to roll her eyes. In 2024, she'd have called this inbox management. Here, it was apparently the measure of a woman's worth. She picked up one of the letters, noting the quality of the paper—thick, expensive stock that probably cost more than a working family's weekly wages. The journalist in her couldn't help but calculate how many children could be fed for the price of these ornate declarations of interest.

Margaret swept into the room with measured grace, each ringlet positioned to demonstrate the perfect balance between fashion and propriety. Her children followed in her wake like perfectly trained ducklings, Thomas's rigid posture suggesting he was already anticipating criticism. "I see the Queen's pronouncement has had its intended effect," she observed, taking her position at the table with a subtle adjustment of her skirts. "When Her Majesty declares a debutante to be 'truly a diamond,' one naturally expects a certain... response."

Elizabeth guided her daughter Katherine into the room, the younger girl's eyes wide at the display of correspondence. Victoria and Albert, the twins, moved in their unsettling synchronicity to their assigned seats. "Indeed," Elizabeth murmured. "Though I confess, Adelaide, you have quite transformed from that bewildering period following your accident. Why, just three months ago, you appeared to have forgotten every lesson ever taught about the most basic protocols. But it seems we were worried for nothing."

"The transformation has been remarkable," Margaret drawled, stirring her tea with deliberate precision while shooting a warning glance at young George, who had been eyeing the pastries with unseemly eagerness. "Almost as if you've become an entirely different person. One might wonder what other... surprises you might have in store."

Adelaide met her sister's gaze steadily. "Fear not, dear sister. The accident merely caused a brief disorientation, but I assure you, I am entirely myself once more." As she spoke, she subtly slipped a few treats into her own pocket for the children's later enjoyment. "Indeed, I would declare that I am fully recovered now."

"And that is all that matters," her mother said warmly, interjecting hastily. "The main focus now must be on securing the most advantageous match. Lord Pemberton's family has wielded considerable influence at court since the days of George III—"

"And his estates are particularly well-managed," James added from his position by the fireplace, his wife Victoria nodding in careful agreement. "The railway investments alone make him a considerable catch."

William straightened his already perfect posture. "Though one might consider Lord Rutland's military connections. In these uncertain times, such alliances could prove invaluable."