We miss you greatly and look forward to your return with extreme impatience.
Your loving sister,
Beatrice
16
The night of their first ball had come, and all was in place. Kitty, Cecily and Aunt Dorothy had been quite rushed off their feet the past few days, busied with modistes, milliners, and dancing lessons, and they were as prepared as they could ever be. Wrapped up in cloaks and piled into a hackney cab, they trundled through London’s streets to Montagu House on Berkeley Square.
Having now spent almost six weeks in the capital, Kitty should have been used to the splendour of the houses in London’s richest streets, inured to the wealth splashed across the city’s most fashionable districts. But she could not have prepared herself for the sight of London in high Season, of how this great city looked, when the world’s richest people were all gathered together and trying their very best to show off. The Montagu town house was shining brighter than the moon, windows glowing like lanterns and streaming out golden light onto the square. Their cab paused at the end of the street, unable to proceed with all the vehicles crowding in, and Kitty leant as far out of the carriage as she could to see the spectacle with her own eyes. She watched a stream of glittering ladies descend carefully from carriages – all carrying intricate insignias of grand houses – and glide their way inside. They looked like peacocks, or rare birds from some exotic location arriving for a grand exhibition. What a world this is, Kitty thought, breathless, and what a chance for us. She looked over at her sister, who was peeking over her shoulder, for once totally united in their awe, their eyes as wide as saucers.
‘Are we ready, ladies?’ Aunt Dorothy asked, gathering her skirts in readiness as the cabs ahead of them began to move once more. When it was their turn to exit, Kitty made sure that her own descent, though unassisted by sprightly footmen, was no less graceful than the other ladies present. From this moment onward, the world would be watching. Kitty caught the skirts of her ballgown in her hand – a satin slip of ivory overlaid with delicate white sarsnet – and walked with her sister and aunt slowly up the drive and into the lion’s den.
There must have been a thousand candles lit for the occasion, Kitty marvelled, gazing around. As they made their way further in and she upturned her head to stare at the looming chandeliers above, she guessed it was a thousand candles at the very least. Their light cast a flattering glow across the room, making each person seem even more beautiful – glinting off the jewels at their ears, wrists and necks like an intimate caress. Kitty fought hard to keep her mouth shut, but could not stop her eyes from roving helplessly across the room, not knowing where to look. Everywhere in front of her was proof of more wealth than she had ever seen in her life: the jewels, the dresses, the candles, the food, the impeccably dressed footmen revolving like dancers, carrying trays of champagne with effortless grace.
They were greeted kindly by the Dowager Countess Montagu, who remembered their names and complimented them on their dresses – Kitty examined her face closely for insincerity but saw none – before they were finally able to enter the ballroom properly. Dancing had not yet begun, and groups of people were gathered around, all talking and laughing together. Kitty was satisfied that their dresses – while not so ornate as some of those around her – were very much in the right style. Yet this moment of relief was short-lived, as she soon realised that no one in the ballroom was willing to converse with them until they were formally acknowledged by someone else first. No one had warned her to prepare for this. Kitty searched the room frantically for any familiar face, but she could hardly see past the coldly judging expressions aimed at them, swimming before her dizzyingly.
‘Lady Radcliffe is waving at us,’ Aunt Dorothy said soothingly into her ear. ‘Look, over there.’
Kitty followed her eyes and Lady Radcliffe was indeed smiling and beckoning to her. Breathing properly again, she led her sister and aunt over as though they had all the time in the world. Eyes and ears, and just do as they do, Kitty reminded herself.
‘You look marvellous!’ Lady Radcliffe greeted them merrily. They tried to return the compliment, but she would not hear it. ‘I am a total wreck,’ she insisted. ‘I have hardly slept – you would not believe the night we’ve had— Oh Mrs Cheriton, how wonderful it is to see you. Have you met Mrs Kendall?’
In Lady Radcliffe’s company, everything all at once became far easier. The de Lacys knew so many people, and Lady Radcliffe was generous with her introductions. Within moments, Kitty felt quite as if she had smiled, curtseyed and complimented her way through half of the beau monde. After a few minutes, Mr de Lacy appeared – having been sent to procure refreshments by his mother – very pleased to see Miss Talbot, and most eager to update her on the night’s excitement. Not liking to interrupt her conversation, he instead had to turn first, reluctantly, to Miss Cecily.