Painted Roses

The Greystone Ball

Mr. Cliffwood's assembly was held at Greystone Hall, fit to hold a large number of people and it was all anyone could talk about over the next week – one couldn't just sit in a tearooms without overhearing discussions. Being his first assembly and that he was single had everyone in a flutter.

The day of the ball, Rosalia had so many new dresses to choose from, she couldn't choose.

The Frog was entirely unhelpful about the whole affair – she would almost think him in a sulk but she couldn't think why he'd be in a sulk, unless he was upset about not being able to attend the ball as a person and was missing those bygone days.

He flatly rejected the idea when she put it to him however and proceeded to lock himself in the doll's house. Rosalia was just trying to wrestle the doors open to get to the bottom of his attitude when her maid came in to help her dress and Rosalia had to leave it until later.

She chose a blue dress, off the shoulder and low on the bust along with a tiny waist and folds of fabric that shimmered through varying shades with dark silver butterflies draped at an angle down the hips – which distracted from the pocket at the side of the dress – it was a good choice for the beginning of The Season.

Whether she admitted to it or not or denied it altogether, she knew she was still a favourite of The Season and always would be. There wasn't a man there who wouldn't marry her, of that she was sure. It was the simple fact that the new debutants – even with their youth and whatever money they had – simply couldn't compete against her face.

"Are you coming or would you rather stay here tonight?" Rosalia asked that evening, slipping her gloves into place and putting her hand on her hips, frowning at the doll's house.

Silence met her and she sighed.

"Mr. Frog, I wish you would tell me what's wrong? Are you angry at me for something?"

"I'm not angry at you," The Frog replied from behind the walls.

"Well could you at least come out and approve of my dress?" she asked, "I'd like you to see it, even if you choose not to come tonight."

Silence met her and Rosalia was just about to give up when The Fog finally pushed the walls open.

She straightened up and presented herself, turning and smiling as the light danced off the gown.

The Frog stared at her.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think you shall be the Belle of The Ball," The Frog said, though there appeared to be something of a sigh to his tone.

"I'm always the Belle of The Ball," Rosalia replied, adjusting her gloves. The Frog glanced at her but she was picking up her purse before turning to him. "Are you coming?"

"I'm not sure, it's not as if I'll be able to dance."

"But it could be interesting to watch." Rosalia crouched down in front of the house and folded her arms on the desk, smiling at him. "Come, I want you to come with me. If you grow too bored, I shall just leave early and we can come home."

"I wouldn't want to spoil your evening."

"You won't, now come along," she said and held out her purse.

After a moment to looking at it, The Frog sighed and hopped in and the pair left to join the others downstairs before the family made their way to the Hall.

Many of the guests were already there by the time they arrived. They greeted the Master of Ceremonies, Rosalia and her sisters collecting their numbers and slipping dance cards on their wrists after handing over their capes and bags. The Frog was transferred into Rosalia's pocket as the servants' attention was on Marie-Fey's cape – she could only hope that he wouldn't be bothered too much by her dancing.