The Eighth Chapter | Fancy a Dance? (I)
"Averill? Do you think this looks good?"
The Duchess was standing next to her, waving her arms around wildly and directing the maids on how to decorate the hall for the upcoming ball. Why it was being held in their home was beyond her. The Duchess had probably insisted on it. She was more excited than the people that the ball was being held for.
Normally, the maids would know how to decorate the hall when a ball was being hosted, but this time, the Duchess insisted on directing them. Unfortunately, Alvera had been roped into the whole thing.
Alvera was unresponsive for a second, forgetting her own name for a brief second, before realizing the Duchess was addressing her. "Pardon? Oh, um... yes. It looks great."
The Duchess was too engrossed in her work to even realize that Alvera's head was in the clouds. However, Alvera was somewhat grateful because... well, what would she tell her?
The ball was in three days, and Alvera wasn't too happy about the entire thing. She was dreading the moment that the Duchess would pull her away during the ball and introduce her to some random duke that she wanted her to marry. The Duchess was so obsessed with the idea of Alvera getting married that you would think the Duchess was planning her own wedding.
Alvera went back to thinking about her dream from last night, seeing if she could remember anything more from the blur. The cloak the figure was wearing was almost the same as Lodema's, but that could just be because it was the last cloak she had seen. Besides, Lodema's eyes were purple, not red.
What else could she remember?
Cloudy sky? Nothing special there. Screaming? Nothing. Alvera let out a sigh. It was pointless. This wasn't getting her anywhere.
"Averill! Are you listening to me?" The Duchess asked.
Alvera let out a small yelp at the sudden call of her name. And no, in fact, she was most certainly not listening to anything the Duchess was saying. She needed to stop zoning out.
"Sorry, I wasn't. My mind is somewhat... clouded right now. What were you saying?"
The Duchess squinted at Alvera suspiciously but chose not to ask any questions. She had other things to attend to. Alvera tried as much as possible to keep herself grounded while the Duchess went around, pulling Alvera behind her. She kept asking her about decorations and guest lists, making some suggestive comments along the way, which Alvera subtly rolled her eyes at.
"These flowers look nice, right?"
"Yes, they're very pretty."
"What about the dinner menu? Have you seen it?"
"Yes, mother, it was planned very meticulously" she replied, somewhat exasperated.
"Jesus, Averill, could you at least pretend to be interested."
Alvera had half a mind to leave, but she didn't want to be rude.
"I would be more interested if I knew how long this was going to take."
"Trust me, Averill, we're not going to be done anytime soon."
Alvera let out another deep sigh. At least it was a way to get her mind off things. Before long, however, Alvera actually started to get into it, making suggestions and having some fun spending time with her stepmother. It hurt a bit because it reminded her of when she would spend time with her actual mother, but that couldn't be helped.
After a few more hours of planning, a couple of breaks in between, and a bit of arguing, Alvera finally made her way back to her room. It was only them that she remembered that she never got around to calling Cedrick and telling him what happened. Alvera was thinking about doing it. Eventually, she decided on talk to him the next day because of how tired she was.
But the next day turned to the next, then the next. Before she knew it, her corset was being tied up, the first dress of the evening being slipped over her head soon after. Yellow Fabric hugged her body, from her chest to waist, before releasing and flowing all the way down to her feet. The several layers of petticoat underneath gave it an added level of fluffiness. The gown had a puffy, off-shoulder neckline and looked like it was doused in glitter. Alvera stood there as Mabel helped her tie up the back of the dress, almost not leaving room for her to even breathe.
Her hair had been styled into a neat and low bun, with a few loose ringlets framing her face. Her mother had insisted on the style, saying it would compliment the dress, and quite frankly, Alvera wasn't complaining. Mabel had also assisted Alvera with her makeup. She was thankful for this, as she was awful at putting anything on her face. Mabel hadn't done much because the Duchess insisted on her looking 'as natural as possible'. She had also opted for flats over heels (something the Duchess was not in favor of) as she at least wanted to be able to dance properly since she knew she would be doing a lot of it.
By the time Mabel was done, Alvera looked like an actual lady, something that rarely, if ever, happened. The Duchess had come to see her right before she was to be presented. Suffice it to say, she was more than pleased with how Alvera looked.
"Averill, darling, you look absolutely stunning. Such a beauty."
Alvera wasn't going to disagree. She did look rather ravishing. Once the Duchess was done raving over her, Alvera was lead to the hallway behind the doors that lead to the Grand Hall. All the guests (suitable bachelors included) were waiting on the other side, eager to see the ladies that were 'up for grabs'. Alvera was in the presence of several girls as well, twelve to be exact, some of which Alvera knew, all dawning spectacularly made gowns in a wide variety of colors. A good example was Lady Lynn, the daughter of the Duke of Blackwoode and the youngest daughter of the Relix Dynasty. She and Alvera had known each other for several years. Although they were not extremely close friends, they enjoyed each other's company and met up fairly often for supper or just a light stroll through the garden. Speaking of the garden, Alvera had not been there in a while. She made a quick mental note to go later.
Alvera and Lynn chatted for a few minutes, and before long, they were already introducing the debutantes. They called each young lady's name and title, then the double doors were heaved open (by two guards) and said lady stepped into the hall before the doors shut behind them. Alvera being the last of them, since this was her kingdom, was prepared to wait. Each time the doors were pulled open, the dazzling lights, from the chandeliers that adorned the hall, effectively blinded her. She would squint for a moment as she tried to let her eyes adjust to the glaring brightness, only for them to be closed off. After a good couple of minutes, Alvera was the only one left. Lynn had just gone through, and Alvera was getting somewhat anxious.
Yes, she had attended dozens of these balls before, but never as a debutante. She usually just went with her mother as both the Duchess and the Duke were invited every year. She remembered how she spent years admiring all the debutantes on their gorgeous gowns and with their extravagant hairstyles. Now, she was actually in their position, and... she didn't think she was ready. Once she stepped through that door, she would officially be a Lady, and that included a lot. At the very least, she hoped she wouldn't end up marrying a stranger.
Before she could sink any further into her thoughts, they were already calling out her name.
"Lady Averill of Waylon."
Immediately being followed by the opening of the massive doors and everyone in the hall looking at her. The hall was dead silent, minus the soft music that was being played in the background, and she immediately felt self-conscious. With all the eyes that were on her, she wanted to throw up. She knew better though, so instead, she took a deep breath and began gracefully walking through the parted crowd and towards the center of the hall, where all the other young ladies were waiting. Being last to go up was definitely nerve-racking.
"Gosh, I wish Cedrick was here," she mumbled under her breath.
Eventually, she made it, thankfully not messing up, and stood amongst the others.
"Introducing this year's debutantes."
And then, clapping. Very loud and long clapping. Which was accompanied by Alvera and the other girls waving and curtsying before they were all rushed off to the dinner table. Dinner was always served before the actual ball started.
Suffice it to say, there were quite a few dining tables, as there was a rather large number of guests that year. Despite that, all the debutantes were required to sit together. It was tradition. Apparently, 'socializing with young men is a ballroom activity only'. Meaning that they could only talk to the men during the dancing portion of the evening.
Ridiculous, but Alvera couldn't say she minded.
The dinner was exquisite, and Alvera basically had to hold herself back from wolfing down both the starter and the main course. As much as the debutantes were the only ones at their table, and the dining room was filled with lively chatter, all the eligible men were still very much watching them.
Alvera had fun talking with the other debutantes, getting to know some, and catching up with the others. By the time the dishes for dessert had been cleared, Alvera was ready for a catnap, but unfortunately, she still had to deal with the second portion of the night: the ballroom dancing. At least she was legally old enough to drink now, and some alcohol would definitely help her.
Before she had the opportunity to grab some, however, she was rushed upstairs by the Duchess and Mabel helped bundle her into her second dress of the evening. Alvera still found the entire thing pointless, so pointless in fact, that she had forgotten that there was another dress to wear. She had barely spent two hours in the gown, and now, she was probably never going to wear it again.
Mabel, once again, helped Alvera into her dress. This one was a steely silver gown with the same petticoat as the yellow dress underneath. It had a v-shaped neckline, which thankfully didn't go too far down, only showing a bit of cleavage, and flowed from her waist, all the way down to her feet. Alvera appreciated how the gown basically lacked any form of sleeves.
As she trotted back into the Grand Hall, she was met with the rest of the guests, who were already having a go at it on the dance floor. As if on reflex, her fingers found and grasped one of the multiple glasses of champagne that were being offered by the servants. She took a small sip at first, savoring the taste of the sweet liquid as it danced on her taste buds, before downing the whole glass when she saw a young gentleman with dark brown, almost pitch black, hair and a pair of deep green eyes, making his way towards her.
Alvera was willing to bet he was going to ask her to dance.
"Would you like to dance?"
She called it, didn't she?
Alvera dropped the now-empty champagne glass, on the tray of a passing servant and gave the gentleman a simple, 'I'd be delighted to,' followed by a smile. Lord Bentley, as he introduced himself, led Alvera over to the dance floor. The two began to sway, amid the other dancing people, to the generic waltz music that played. He wasn't a bad dancer. Not by Alvera's standards anyway. Alvera had been taught how to ballroom dance since she was young. She was almost an expert at it, and if she thought that someone was a good dancer, you could definitely take her word for it.
As they danced around, they engaged in some conversation, including him asking her why she had changed her dress. How he remembered her dress specifically after only seeing it once was beyond her, but she had no problem with explaining how the Duchess basically forced her to.
"Why would she want you to wear two dresses to one ball?" He asked with a short laugh, as he spun Alvera.
"I hardly know myself! She said the debutante ball was so extremely important that I had to wear two," she replied.
They chatted a bit more until the song finally came to an end. Alvera offered him a curtsy and another smile, before she walked away, looking for another glass of champagne. She eventually found one, and leaned against one of the walls, savoring the drink. Soon enough, she felt someone lean on the wall next to her. Expecting it to be another young man, she was preparing herself for another dance, but in actuality, it was Lynn.
"Are you going to spend the whole night drinking because you're old enough to do it now?" Lynn asked, stifling a giggle.
Alvera was feeling the effects of the first glass of champagne creeping up on her, but regardless, she took another sip before answering Lynn.
"Are you going to spend the whole night not drinking because you're scared?"
"I'm not scared, Ivory. I've just been busy."
"Yes, busy dancing," Alvera replied, taking another sip. The thin glass was almost half empty by then. "I saw you dance with three different men during that one song, Lynn."
"Aren't we here to socialize? I believe that's the whole point of this ball."
"Poor, innocent Lynn," Alvera replied with a short laugh. " We're not here to 'socialize'. We're here to be a market for these men to pick from. There are thirteen debutantes here and a lot more than thirteen eligible men. It's a game of numbers really, they're all trying to snag one of us. I can't even blame them. I mean we are ladies, right? We're basically just here to act as a union for two kingdoms. That's the truth," she ended with a shrug.
Another sip.
Lynn rolled her eyes, as a smile played on her lips, "Leave it to you to turn a ball into a lesson. Maybe you really should be drinking, it might help you relax. You do seem a bit on edge."
Alvera didn't know how to reply to that. She had definitely loosened up during her dance with Lord Bentley, but she decided to chalk that one up to her first glass of champagne. Speaking of champagne, she took another sip. The entire glass was almost finished at that point, and she was gently swirling the glass in her hand, careful not to break it or let it fall from her grasp. When she remembered that she had still not answered Lynn, she settled on changing the subject to a lighter topic. A few moments later, both of them were spotted by a pair of young men, who escorted each of them to opposite sides of the dance floor.
By the time an hour had passed, Alvera had danced with eight more men. Lynn, on the other hand, had racked up a dance count of seventeen. This was mostly due to the fact that she wasn't actively trying to hide like Alvera was doing, though she would never admit that. In the course of that hour, Alvera had also drunk three more glasses of champagne, but surprisingly, wasn't even close to drunk yet. Her senses weren't blurred, she could speak clearly, and you could barely tell she had drunk a thing. Yes, she felt rather tipsy, but her brain was still functioning somewhat normally, so she wasn't too worried.
Alvera snagged a couple of the hors d'oeurves that were being passed around and laid back on the same wall she did an hour ago. She hadn't had a moment to breathe since her second dance, and quite frankly, her feet were getting sore from all the walking and moving. It scared her just thinking of how much worse her feet would have felt if she was wearing heels instead of flats. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the wall after she grabbed yet another glass of champagne.
Number six.
She was about to take her first sip when the glass suddenly escaped her clutches. She almost gasped in shock. Who took her drink?
Before she even opened her eyes, she heard the voice of the culprit. A voice she knew very well.
"You really shouldn't be drinking this," someone said.
Alvera could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Hello to you to Ryder," she replied with a smile, her eyes finally opening.
"You don't seem particularly happy to see me after all this time, Ivory."
Alvera turned to face him, giving him a quick once over. His blonde hair had been pushed back, exposing his brown eyes. He was dressed in somewhat normal attire for the occasion. Nothing too fancy. "Maybe because you still have my drink in your grasp."
"I've been watching you all night. What is this? like your eighth one?" He asked.
"Don't over exaggerate, it's the sixth," she replied, rolling her eyes at him and reaching out for her drink.
He pulled it further away, "That's hardly any better. Isn't this your first time drinking anyway?"
"Quite the contrary, it's two fewer drinks better, and yes it is, but apparently, I seem to have a rather high alcohol tolerance because the drinks haven't done anything yet."
"That or it just has a low alcohol percentage. Wouldn't be shocked if your mother did that on purpose. She probably expected you to do something like this," he replied as he brought her glass to his lips.
Alvera almost clawed at him. She was looking forward to that drink.
"What?" he asked innocently, "You haven't taken a sip of it yet, so it's technically not yours."
She glared at him and then went to grab another. She was going to have that sixth drink if it was the last thing she did. Ryder followed behind her, taking another sip of her, or rather his, glass.
Alvera picked up a new one, and before Ryder could stop her, downed the entire thing. She couldn't savor the taste, but she had gotten her drink at least. She smirked at him as she set the now-empty glass down on a passing tray.
"Jesus, you're going to be wasted before the night is out."
"You never know. That might be the plan."
Ryder was two years older than Alvera, but the two had known each other for a good three years. However, things never got romantic between them. Her stepmother was not very happy about that. She was always under some delusion that at some point, Alvera and Ryder would get married. That was surely never going to happen, especially now that Ryder was engaged to another young lady.
"No, you wouldn't dare. If you got wasted at your own debutante ball, your mother would kill you," he laughed softly, finally finishing his drink.
That was very true. She could imagine herself stumbling around the room and saying absolute rubbish to everyone, then eventually throwing up on herself. Her mother would have been beyond mortified. She wouldn't dare.
Before long, Ryder's fiancée had come over. After offering a friendly greeting to Alvera, she dragged him away for a dance.
"No more drinking," he said to her before he left. Despite the warning, he already knew she would probably still drink more.
A small smile appeared on Alvera's lips as she watched them dance around gracefully for a few moments. She was happy for them. They seemed very much in love with each other, and Alvera found it adorable.
Somewhat absentmindedly, Alvera beckoned over one of the servants, grabbed yet another glass of champagne from his tray, and gave him a 'thank you'. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the wall once more.
Number seven.
"You really shouldn't be drinking this," someone said.
Thinking it was Ryder, she just held her drink tighter. Just in case he tried to take it from her again. But this time, he didn't try because it wasn't Ryder.
When Alvera realized this, her eyes shot open, and she stared at the person beside her.
"Fancy a Dance?" He asked with a smirk.