Faces of the Wind

Chapter 11

London was vibrant and crowded even during the chilly month of November, and the balls were nothing like the ones held in Hampshire. They were far more exuberant, wild... and even dangerous. Drunken young men would fight and end up with broken noses, fingers or ribs. The most rebellious of them, who were usually artists, were accompanied by women they picked up at brothels and reveled in competing in excessive drinking. Even more, it seemed the act passed by Parliament in 1845 to remove gambling from the jurisdiction of the courts failed to dissuade the upper classes from being reckless at the gaming tables and losing properties over a game of cards. Ladies, too, were different and wore tighter corsets—it was a miracle their faces never turned blue while dancing. They also sported very high hairdos decorated with colorful feathers, false butterflies, exaggerated ribbons and precious gemstones. Their dresses' cuts were very low, giving the world a glimpse at their plump cleavages.

To Arden's taste, London's fashion was lavish yet captivating. Last time she had visited the city was right after her mother died when she was only thirteen and her younger sister ten. The sole purpose of her visit to her aunt Lilley's now was to see George, but distracting her aunt was a very tedious task, especially with Dorothy being very busy with her own affairs.

Tonight, she accompanied her aunt Lilley to a cousin's ball even though she was in low spirits. She loved her new dress, though, and didn't mind a chance to flaunt it despite that its tight V-shaped bodice could be used when the gallows are out of fashion. It was made of silvery violet sheer silk with a full skirt she enjoyed smoothing every now and then. The neckline was low with delicate, wide ruffles sitting on it and a big crystal brooch twinkling in the center of the front. The sleeves were collapsed, revealing part of her shoulders, and flared out from the elbow into a funnel shape. Her hair was darker than ever and professionally styled by her aunt's lady's maid and ornamented with a thin silver ribbon. The more she admired her dress and beauty tonight, the more distraught she felt. If only George were here to appreciate all of this.

She left the boisterous crowd in the main hall and found refuge from the noise in an empty room with a huge fireplace and hideous, beige sofas. The Daltons' house was full of extravagant furniture, none of which was beautiful. Her hand laced on her brooch, she stared at the fireplace, brooding and wishing she had Adrian's blackmail talents to persuade Dorothy to entertain their aunt so that she could run off and see her beloved in Westminster, but catching her younger sister red-handed was not an easy task.

"I never knew you could look so charming," a loud squeal snapped her out of her troubled thoughts, and a jolly face she knew so well appeared in front of her. It was Adrian, dressed to impress and smiling so mischievously she was sure what he had just said was more of an insult than a compliment. Nevertheless, he looked dashing in his black velvet tailcoat with his hair unusually combed back so elegantly.

She blew out a breeze of distress and allowed her hand to release the crystal brooch and fall to her strangled abdomen. "Speak of the devil," she grunted, turning to leave him, but, as always, he ran and blocked her way.

"I didn't know London could turn a seaweed into glamour puss," he giggled.

Her expression hardened. "I am not in the mood for your dimwitted remarks, so, please, let's just pretend you did not see me." She gently pushed him aside and continued to stride to the door, hoping the indignation of feeling unwanted would make him leave her in peace. It did not seem to be working, though, and he blocked the door like a standing Vitruvian Man.

She began to run out of patience and avoided looking at his face as it further aggravated her irritation.

"Have you seen George?" He asked.

She instantly stared daggers at his jolly face, wishing she could dig her nails into it. "This is a matter upon which I do not wish to dwell," she said, her anger surging.