CHAPTER 3

It might have been a week since Sylvia arrived in London, but she was not yet used to the big city. She was struggling to adjust to the faster pace of life here, and how busy everywhere was all the time. She was trying her hardest to please her aunt and to make an effort, but she was not sure that this was a place that she would ever fit in.

Sylvia missed the tranquility of Bath, where the days seemed longer, and the nights were filled with the sounds of nature. That thought struck her even more as she read aloud to Aunt Grace, because the story took place in the countryside, reminding her not only of Bath, but of the quiet home she shared with her father.

She found herself missing her old life now more than ever before.

"Lady Grace," the footman interrupted just as Sylvia found her voice getting a little hoarse. "You have a visitor here."

"I do?" Aunt Grace's eyebrows rose. "Who is it?"

"Lord George Martin."

Sylvia was surprised to see how her aunt's face softened. This was clearly someone who she felt a great affection for, and Sylvia wanted to know more about him. So she remained in the drawing room while the guest came inside to speak with Aunt Grace.

He was a handsome man with a friendly looking smile which crinkled around his eyes. Instantly, he looked like someone Sylvia would like. Aunt Grace looked even more pleased than she felt as Lord George ran his fingers through his greying hair.

"I heard you were back in the city, Grace," Lord George declared smilingly. "I just knew that I had to come and see you."

"Oh, George, I am so sorry that I did not write to you before I arrived. It has simply been a very busy time of my life."

Lord George grinned and nodded towards Sylvia. "I can see that. Is this the lovely niece you told me about?"

"It is. Sylvia, this is my old friend, Lord George Martin. Sylvia has just been reading to me. Something she has done a lot since she came to live with me and since we both adore books. I do not know what I would have done without her. I would not have been able to recover without her assistance."

Sylvia felt a heat burn in her cheeks. That was not something she wanted to be thanked for. If it had not been for Aunt Grace, she would have had nowhere to go. It was her aunt who had saved her, not the other way around.

"Oh, that is wonderful, Grace," Lord George responded. "It is lovely to find someone as interested in literature as you. I am sure it has been fascinating to listen to the stories read by someone who cares about the words written on the page."

They took their seats as the maids brought them tea and cake. As Aunt Grace and Lord George reminisced about past times they had spent together, and books they adored, Sylvia was entranced. This was the sort of tender familiarity and deep affection she wanted for herself. She had always wanted love in her life.

Now that she had to think about the Season in a new light, and all that might entail, thoughts of love plagued her more. How on earth was she supposed to really find that in a place like this? In a city she did not belong to, surrounded by people she would never understand? It was truly starting to feel like an impossible idea.

Seemingly sensing what was on her mind, her aunt leapt on that topic. "I am actually going to be hosting a ball soon, Lord George, and it will be my darling niece's time to come out."

"Now that must be terribly exciting for you, Lady Sylvia. Your first Season."

Sylvia tried to smile. She appreciated Lord George for trying to be so kind to her, but her nerves continued to float to the surface. She could not seem to hide how worried she was. Did Lord George see how hard this was going to be for her, considering her age and social background? How much she would stand out?

"I have always thought that the balls are the perfect chance for personal growth and discovery," Lord George continued with a welcoming smile. It seemed that not only did he see what she was going through, but that he also understood. "Many individuals have defied societal norms and made a true name for themselves within the ton. It has been quite impressive."

"Really? You have seen it for yourself?" Sylvia asked.

"Oh yes, many a time. It is always a lot of fun to watch."

Sylvia felt a smile creeping up on her face. Was Lord Geroge right? Could she somehow carve a place out for herself here? At least enough to survive it without disappointing her aunt? She did not want to make a name for herself, she did not need to be remembered by the ton, but she did want to get through it.

"Well, that is very interesting," Sylvia muttered, almost to herself.

And it was incredibly interesting. Sylvia did not stop thinking about Lord George's words, and she found herself daydreaming, imagining a transition from her aunt's companion to a potentially more prominent societal role. It was still very scary, and Sylvia knew that she would be frightened even as she set foot onto the dance floor for the very first time, but there was a little glimmer of hope shining within her. Combined with an intense curiosity, it might have even been excitement.

She had immediately taken a liking to Lord George, which was a good thing because she had a feeling that he was going to be around a lot. Especially judging by the way that Aunt Grace and Lord George were smiling at one another. It was really sweet.

The only problem was it left Sylvia wondering if anyone would ever look at her like that.

***

After lunch, Aunt Grace had yet another surprise visitor. Only this one was here for Sylvia. It was the seamstress who had arrived for a dress fitting. Sylvia's very first dress for her very first ball. Perhaps it was fortuitous that she had been entirely unprepared for this moment, for it might have filled her with dread; she likely would have become quite entangled in her own apprehensions.

As her aunt called her into her bedchambers, Sylvia smoothed her hands over her simple cotton dress, took a deep breath, and followed the sound of Aunt Grace's voice. There she found herself faced with a petite woman with a kind face framed by greying curls.

"Hello there, Lady Sylvia," the woman declared with a smile. "I am Mrs. Pemberton. Are you ready for your fitting?"

Sylvia nodded, her voice momentarily caught in her throat. They moved to the center of the room where a full length mirror stood, flanked by two plush chairs.

Mrs. Pemberton carefully unzipped the garment bag, revealing the dress within. Sylvia gasped softly as the dress was unveiled. It was a stunning creation of silk and lace, its fabric shimmering softly in the afternoon light. The dress was a deep shade of emerald green, adorned with delicate embroidery and tiny pearls that caught the light with every movement.

"This dress is utterly beautiful, do you not think?" Mrs. Pemberton said, her eyes twinkling with pride. "Your aunt once wore this dress and asked me to sort it for you. Do you like it?"

Sylvia reached out tentatively to touch the fabric, feeling its luxurious texture beneath her fingers. She had never worn anything so fine, so sophisticated. The idea that this dress had been altered specifically for her was almost too much to comprehend.

"Oh yes," she gasped happily. "I love it."

"Let us see how it fits, shall we?" Mrs. Pemberton suggested, helping Sylvia out of her own dress and into the emerald creation. As the seamstress adjusted the fabric and secured the fastenings, Sylvia watched herself in the mirror. The transformation was nothing short of miraculous.

For the first time, Sylvia did not see herself as merely the vicar's daughter. She saw a woman of grace and elegance, someone who could hold her own in any setting. The dress fit her perfectly, accentuating her figure and bringing out the color in her cheeks. Her dark hair, usually tied back in a practical braid, now fell in loose waves around her shoulders, completing the picture of refinement.

"There," Mrs. Pemberton said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "You look stunning, my dear."

Sylvia turned slowly, taking in her reflection from every angle. The dress made her feel different, more confident. She felt a sense of identity that had always eluded her before. This dress, with its history and beauty, had given her a glimpse of the woman she could be.

"Thank you, Mrs. Pemberton," Sylvia said, her voice filled with emotion. "This means more to me than I can express."

The seamstress smiled, patting Sylvia's hand gently. "It is my pleasure, Lady Sylvia. You deserve to feel special."

As Mrs. Pemberton packed up her things and prepared to leave, Sylvia remained by the mirror, still marveling at her reflection. She knew that this moment marked a turning point in her life. The dress was more than just a piece of clothing; it was a symbol of her emerging identity and the possibilities that lay ahead.

This dress, combined with the words of encouragement that George had given her made Sylvia feel a little more confident about what was to come. Perhaps she really could embrace the ball, and at least convince herself that she was the heroine in one of her favorite novels.

Sylvia twirled slowly, watching the dress flow around her. She imagined the scene at the ball: the grand hall filled with elegantly dressed guests, the soft strains of a waltz playing in the background, and herself gliding across the floor, confident and poised. She could almost hear the rustle of the dress as she danced, the warmth of the candle light on her face.

A knock at the door interrupted her reverie. She turned to see her Aunt Grace standing in the doorway, her eyes filled with pride and a hint of nostalgia.

"My dear, you look absolutely lovely," Aunt Grace said, stepping into the room. "That dress was one of my favourites, and it suits you even better than it did me."

Sylvia blushed, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. "Thank you, Aunt Grace. This means so much to me. I... I feel different, like I could actually fit in at the ball."

Aunt Grace smiled warmly and took Sylvia's hands in hers. "You were always meant to shine, my dear. The ball is just the beginning. Remember, confidence comes from within. The dress is just a tool to help you see the wonderful woman you have always been."

Sylvia nodded, her aunt's words sinking in. "Thank you, I will do my best to make you proud."

"Now," Aunt Grace continued, "we have a little practice. I believe you should be comfortable moving and dancing in that dress before the big night."

Sylvia's eyes lit up with excitement. "I would love that!"

They moved the chairs aside to create a small space for dancing. Aunt Grace hummed a soft tune, and Sylvia began to practice the steps of a waltz, her movements becoming more fluid and graceful with each pass. She felt the fabric of the dress swirl around her, the pearls catching the light and creating a mesmerizing effect.

When they finally paused, both a little breathless, Aunt Grace kissed Sylvia's forehead. "You are ready, my dear. The ball will be a night to remember, and you will have a wonderful time, trust me."

Sylvia hugged her aunt tightly, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love. "Thank you, Aunt Grace. For everything."

As evening fell, Sylvia changed out of the dress and carefully hung it up, her mind buzzing with anticipation for the ball. She felt more prepared and more herself than ever before. With George's words and her aunt's unwavering support, she knew she could face whatever lay ahead.