Chapter 1

Sophia swayed her arms around, desperate to find an opening. She was sinking deeper into the water, barely keeping her head afloat. Her legs kicked into action as she tried to propel herself forward, but something was pulling her down. The water was too dark, and her creamy white skin was covered in goosebumps.

“Someone… help…me…” she managed to gasp, the words barely managing to leave her throat. Her head was under water now, and all her kicking was in vain.

Sophia knew that she was going into the darkness…

And then, as though dawn had just broken after a long night of darkness, a hand grabbed her before she could sink to the bottom. She was being pulled out of the water by a pair of strong hands. They were warm against her own skin which had turned icy cold.

“You are safe now,” the voice said to her, pulling her to the shore. She squinted her eyes at the figure, trying helplessly to make out who it was, but only the silhouette was visible to her. She reached out, trying to grasp the shape, but it began to slip away from reach… further and further…

Sophia White sat up in her bed, gasping for air as she clutched her pillow in hopes for something to ground her back to into reality. Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead, and her heart was beating frantically against her chest.

It took her a few moments to calm herself down. Outside her window, the morning sun was already beginning to peak in. The darkness of night had subsided and so had all the horrors that it brought along with it.

“It was only a dream,” she reminded herself as she slowly hoisted herself out of bed. Her hands were still shaking in the aftermath of her nightmare.

At three and twenty years of age, Sophia White was no stranger to bad dreams. They were a regular visitor in her sleep — so much so that she found herself anticipating their arrival every time she drifted off to sleep each night. They were recurring, always featuring her drowning in water. Sometimes she made it out alive, other times she was not as lucky.

But despite their recurrence, they never failed to leave their impact on Sophia, and she’d be left in a frantic state each time. With shaking hands, Sophia went to open the curtains on her window and soak up the sunlight pouring in through it.

“Sunshine and a meal prepared out of love,” her mother used to always tell her when she was a child. “They have the power to solve almost any problem.”

The warmth of the sunlight served as a feeble but available replacement for the warmth that Sophia sought whenever she woke up from a bad dream, still in a vulnerable state. She let herself bathe in it for a few more moments and then went to sit at her desk.

Sophia began to scribble away inside a small black notebook that looked as though it had seen better days with its torn edges and crumbled papers. She wrote freely about what she had dreamt about, letting it all out.

It was a practice that she had started doing years ago. That little black notebook held all her worst nightmares. In her mind, she thought that if she recorded them on paper, they would not weigh so heavy on her mind.

So far, it had not worked like that, but it did not stop her from recording them anyway, for she needed an outlet for the torture she was subjected to each time she fell asleep.

“There,” she sighed, writing down the last of what she remembered from her latest nightmare. It was not meant for anyone else to read as its pages recorded her at her most vulnerable.

She dashed the notebook away in a drawer underneath her desk and let herself bask in the sunlight for a few more moments.

She had gotten the sunlight. Now all she needed was a meal prepared from love…

“There she comes,” a cheerful voice belonging to a stout lady with blonde hair, kind eyes, and bright smile said out loud. It belonged to Rose White, the Dowager Viscountess of Sawdon and Sophia’s aunt. “I was beginning to worry you would not show up this morning.”

Sophia shook her head, smiling politely as she took her place at the breakfast table.

“You know that I never miss breakfast, dear aunt,” Sophia replied.

“On regular days, that is indeed the case,” Rose noted. “However, today is not a normal day, is it?”

“Is it not?” Sophia raised one of her eyebrow in curiosity as she racked her brain for what her aunt could be referring to. “I am not sure if I follow.”

“My dear, how could you forget?” Aunt Rose clutched her proverbial pearl necklace, feigning offense. “Do you not know what time of the year it is?”

Sophia scrunched up her eyebrows, now straining really hard to remember, and then it occurred to her. Her shoulders slumped, and she sunk back further into the seat.

“Right, of course,” Sophia muttered in a dull voice. “It is the start of London Season.”

“Precisely!” Aunt Rose clapped her hands in delight. “And my dear niece is going to be in attendance for the first time in years.”

“Exciting prospect.” She attempted to feign excitement, but it only came out as dry.

Sophia kept her head down, focusing on her plate instead of opting to look up at her aunt directly. It was safe to say that she did not share the former’s enthusiasm about the Season.

“Have you decided on your dress?” Aunt Rose continued, oblivious to her niece’s blatant disinterest.

Sophia shook her head.

“Sophia!” Aunt Rose reprimanded. “I arranged for Clara to show you the dresses much earlier in the week. At this point, you should have already chosen one for yourself and even tried it on.”

“My apologies, Aunt Rose,” she muttered sheepishly. “I suppose it must have slipped my mind.”

The truth was, it had not slipped her mind. In fact, the rows of dresses that sat neatly at the corner of her dressing room taunted her each time she had made her way in there. To Sophia, balls represented everything that she hoped to avoid — the hordes of people, the implicit judgements that marked every interaction, and the weight of expectations on one’s shoulders to walk out with the most well-suited partner.

“My dear, you are at an age where you must not let these things slip your mind,” Aunt Rose emphasised, “However, I know you better in this world than anyone else and therefore had already anticipated that you would not choose the dress yourself. But not to worry, I already took the liberty of choosing one for you.”

“Is that so?” Sophia’s curiosity was piqued ever so slightly.

“Yes, and I am certain that you will love it just as much as I do,” her aunt reassured. “It belonged to your mother. In fact, it was one of her favorite dresses.”

Sophia stiffened immediately at the mention of her late mother. Aunt Rose noticed the apparent change in her demeanor and touched her hand gently.

“If she were here today, she would have loved to see you in it as you attend your first ball in years,” she noted. “You may think of it as your debut.”

“Can you show me the dress?” Sophia’s voice came out hoarse, as though she had just finished crying. She could not help herself; every time she spoke of her family, she got choked up like this.

“But do you not want to finish your breakfast?”

Sophia shook her head, pushing the plate away from her.

“I have lost my appetite.”

“Very well, then.” Her aunt got up from her place at the table and gestured to Sophia to follow her. The two arrived in Sophia’s dressing room, where an emerald green dress hung in the corner.

“There it is,” her aunt said, nudging her encouragingly.

“I have never seen it before.” Sophia caressed the silky fabric which gilded under her delicate hands effortlessly. “It is beautiful.”

“It was one that your father gave her in the early years of their marriage. He had gotten it made from Paris, especially for her. I remember your mother thought of this dress as one of her most beloved possessions.” Her aunt had a wistful edge to her voice as she recalled the memories.

Sophia tried to imagine what her mother must have looked like in that dress. Despite not having seen her for many years, her mother’s image was sharp in her brain, as though they had seen each other just this morning. Her heart felt heavy, and she exhaled a sigh.

“I am sure that if she was here, she would have wanted to pass it down to her daughter.” Her aunts’ comforting hand landed on her shoulder once again.

“We do not know that,” Sophia’s words came out more jaded than she had intended them to sound. “When the accident took her life, and my father’s and my sister’s… all their thoughts died with them. We may never know what they truly would have wanted. All we do is ponder and make assumptions.”

It had been eleven years since the accident that turned Sophia’s entire world upside down. Many of those that were around her had told her that it gets easier with time since you learn to accept what happened, but for Sophia, she only grew more jaded as the years passed by.It was unfortunate for someone as young as herself. At her age, she should have been concerning herself with girlish passions and the naivety that comes with youth, but Sophia was filled with cynicism and had bleak prospects for her own future.

“My dear, how many times have I told you to improve your outlook on life?” Her aunt’s tone was soft. “It does you no good to have such a bleak perspective on things.”

Sophia could hear the love in her aunt’s voice. She was the closest thing to a parent that Sophia had left, and the bond that both ladies shared was unlike any other.

“I suppose I don’t know what else to think,” Sophia replied, pursing her lips. “It is difficult to find a silver lining for my grief.”

A small silence hung between the two of them. Sophia could see that her words had impacted her aunt greatly and guilt began to seep in. After all, while Sophia had lost her mother, her aunt had lost her sister.

“I am so sorry, Aunt Rose,” she said, squeezing her aunt’s hand gently. “I will try and fix my mood.”

“I believe that attending the ball tonight will be beneficial for you in many ways,” Aunt Rose suggested. “You must seek new connections as it not right for a young lady like yourself to be shut away at home all day.”

“I do not need any new connections. I already have you and Cecil to keep me company.” She smiled, looking down at her feet where an orange cat was busy purring to grab her attention. She knelt down and began to pet him.

“My dear, I meant connections that lead to companionship,” her aunt emphasized. “I am hopeful that tonight you shall meet the man who will become your husband.”

Sophia felt a pang of nervousness at her aunt’s words. She had never had a romantic relationship in her entire life, unlike the other girls her age. Sometimes she felt as though she missed out on some important experience, but other times, she felt content with being alone.

“And when you meet him,” her aunt continued, “you will realise that it is one of the most important connections one can have in life. In fact, it is the most important one. Your return to society shall be glorious, and I am sure you will capture many hearts tonight.”

Sophia shrugged her shoulders, focusing her attention instead on the purring cat before her. She knew that the ball was important for her aunt, and therefore, she would not dare strike an objection regarding her attendance at it.

“I shall return to the breakfast table now,” her aunt announced, turning to her heel, “but you may feel free to make yourself comfortable and make any preparations as you wish. It is never too early to start dressing up.”

When her aunt left the room, Sophia finally stood up and went to take the dress off from its hanger. She placed it in front of herself and examined herself in the vanity mirror in front of her.

“What do we think, Cecil?” she asked her feline friend, who was busy grooming his own fur. “Do you think Aunt Rose is right? Will I be capturing any hearts tonight?”

Cecil answered in a dull meow before going back to grooming his fur. Sophia stepped closer to the mirror, turning her face to the side to expose a large scar that extended from the bottom of her earlobe down to the side of her jaw. She traced a finger alongside it, exhaling a deep sigh.

“Will they accept me for who I am?” she muttered to herself, a hint of sadness coloring her voice. “For all my scars? Or will they want a pretty little lady with a perfect little life?”

Just then, a loud knock on her brought her back to reality.

“Come on in,” Sophia called out.

The door swung open to reveal Clara, Sophia’s lady’s maid, walking in with a tray of food.

“Good morning, My Lady. Your aunt asked me to bring your breakfast up here and assist you with preparations for the ball.” The middle-aged woman smiled brightly, putting down the tray on one of the tables behind Sophia.

“I am not hungry.” Sophia shrugged, letting down her hair to the side to conceal her scar once again.

“Then, shall we begin preparations for the ball?” Clara asked. “I know that tonight a big occasion for you.”

“It is more a big occasion for Aunt Rose than it is for me,” Sophia replied earnestly, putting the dress back onto the rack. “You know how I am. Balls have never interested me so much.”

“Oh, but My Lady, they are such jovial occasions!” Clara’s eyes glimmered with excitement. “You must remember your first ball.”

Sophia’s pressed her lips together in a tight line. Clara had brought up an unwanted memory.

“I wish to forget it all together,” she sighed, taking a seat down on the sofa.

On the insistence of her aunt, Sophia had made her debut at the age of nineteen at one of the grandest balls of that season. She had always been told of the importance of a lady’s first ball as it marked her transition from a girl to a woman. She had not been keen on going, but she did not have the heart to decline her aunt’s request.

Sophia had immediately regretted her decision as soon as she had walked into the ballroom. The attention had made her nervous, and she had exited before the dances had even began.

That was her only experience of going to a ball. Since then, she had refused to attend one, always coming up with new excuses to avoid going. Her aunt had been understanding so far, but this summer, she had insisted that Sophia must attend the London Season as her youth was beginning to slip away.

“My Lady, then perhaps tonight is the opportunity to re-write some of those memories,” Clara suggested optimistically. “I am sure you would look like a vision in the dress your aunt has picked for you.”

“Did you ever see my mother wearing it?” Sophia asked. Clara had worked for their family for many years now. Beside her aunt, she was one person whom Sophia shared a special bond with.

Clara smiled.

“Yes, and I remember how much she would love to wear it. It was only reserved for very special occasions,” Clara replied. “In fact, she loved it so much that I believe that she must have left a piece of her spirit in there. When you wear it tonight, I am sure you will feel her presence in it.”

“I am not sure if tonight is going to be a special occasion.” Sophia frowned, directing her gaze at the dress. It flowed beautifully, and Sophia could only imagine what a vision her mother would have looked in it.

“Why not? It is your glorious return to society. I am sure that is a cause of the highest celebration,” Clara pointed out as encouraging as always.

“It is a cause,” Sophia replied. “Whether or not it is a cause for celebration is up for debate. For my aunt, surely. For me and the rest of the ton, likely not. I am sure no one is dying to witness the return of the… what was it that they called me… the Scarred Woman?”

Clara put a sympathetic hand on Sophia’s shoulders.

“Now, My Lady, do not be like that…” she sighed. “I am sure that you will be greeted warmly.”

“That depends on if they are as awful as I remember them to be,” Sophia replied. “In my experience, people rarely change.”

Clara seemed to be at a loss for words, and Sophia felt bad that she was subjecting her maid to her negative thoughts. Even though her nerves were brewing up a storm inside of her, she tried to fight back against them.

“My Lady…”

“Forget it,” Sophia sighed. “Let us try on this dress then.”

It was time to do away with her pessimism and give tonight a chance.