A Solemn Promise

XI

"Eye contact: how souls catch fire." Yahia Lababidi

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XI.

Grace fastened the very last pin in Claire's hair, satisfied that it was the prettiest that it had ever been, and her skills could not make it even more so. Claire was indeed terribly beautiful, and were it not for her lack of fortune, she would have been the object of affection for many a young man.

But, much like Grace, Claire's prospects were not grand, and she set her sights too high by fantasising about Arthur Slickson. Grace worried that Claire's naïveté would result in her falling prey to a young man with less than gentlemanly intentions. Claire would get her heart broken if she was not careful.

Claire's gown was a blush pink, the exact shade her cheeks seemed to always be in church. The contrast between her dress and her raven hair was lovely, and she looked every bit a princess.

Grace had selected a white gown that had belonged to Kate. It was simple, but elegant, with only a ribbon, cornflower blue in colour, around the waist as decoration. She had been drawn to the dress for exactly that reason, the cornflower description sticking in her mind unwillingly. Looking at herself in the mirror behind Claire, she could see that the ribbon did match her eye colour well.

"Claire," Grace said, shaking off any thought of him. "You must try to choose someone else to bestow upon your affection," she urged, frowning. "Mr Slickson is far too vain to appreciate someone as sweet and as lovely as you." She could think of other young men in town. More attainable men who would most certainly trail after Claire if she looked their way.

Claire blushed the colour of her dress and shook her head. "You are far too sceptical, Grace," she scolded. "There is much more to Arthur Slickson than his appearance."

Grace, having been the one to work within the Slickson household, was yet to see more to Mr Slickson then his own appreciation for himself. Could she be surprised by him? Grace doubted it. Either way, Arthur Slickson would never marry a girl as beneath him as Claire. Claire was simply too innocent to see this.

"Are you two presentable?"

Grace and Claire turned to their mother at the doorway. Mrs Denham was wearing her best Sunday gown and walking very tentatively, having only just regaining her ability to walk. When she saw her daughters by the dressing table, she clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, Claire!" she gushed. "When did you become a lady?"

At seventeen, Claire had not been permitted many opportunities to dress as she was. The previous summer had been the first time she had been allowed to attend public affairs. This would be her first winter ball.

She beamed at the praise and stood up from the chair. "Thank you, Mama," she said excitedly.

Mrs Denham's eyes then fell on Grace, and her expression softened to one of warm admiration. "And my good Grace," she said simply. "How beautiful you are." Holding her hands out to her daughters, she beckoned them. "Come. I am desperate for some conversation. Let us farewell your brothers and then depart."

***

"When you think of the society we had during the Season, Perry, I really have no idea why you would insist upon us attended a country dance," Cecily said distastefully as the Beresfords approached the assembly hall.

"Perhaps because it would vex you terribly, my dear wife," muttered Peregrine in reply.

Adam, who was walking behind his parents, Susanna on his arm, rolled his eyes. Pigs would fly before his mother found something that pleased her. Adam, on the other hand, was looking forward to the ball. He was looking forward to the music and the dancing, and the simple pleasures that a public assembly brought.