Chapter 12

BY THE TIME MAB HAD settled into her room, washed and dressed, she’d been too late to attend dinner with the rest of the ladies. Sandwiches, scones and a pot of tea had been delivered to Mab’s room, along with an invitation to join the other ladies in the ballroom before the soiree began. Mab had initially declined, but as she sat alone in her room, staring into the peat fire as she nibbled on a sandwich, she felt overcome with loneliness.

She most certainly wasn’t ready to meet the men just yet. But perhaps meeting the women with whom she shared her walls wouldn’t be such a bad idea. If nothing else, she could at least see if they were happy here.

Mab finished her sandwich and stood up. She glanced at the miniature portrait of her mother on her bedside table and whispered, “Wish me luck,” before crossing her room.

By the time she’d found her way to the ballroom, escorted by one of the numerous velvet-clad guards scattered throughout the castle, Mab had been filled in on the rules of the soiree – which she was still adamant she wasn’t attending.

There was a flower system to indicate to the men whether they could approach a lady or not, and in what capacity the lady wished to interact with them. Reluctantly, Mab thought this was a rather splendid idea in theory but wondered if it was actually adhered to.

She was also given a lengthy lecture on consent and warned that if a man was uninterested, she was not to pursue them any further, or she would risk her place here.

Mab had almost snorted when she’d been told the rule – as if she would be actively pursuing anyone! Though she did tuck that bit of information away. If she wanted a quick route home, she could just pester an uninterested man until she was forced to leave. Though she wasn’t quite ready to see her father yet. And she dreaded what kind of match he’d force her into if she returned still single.

The guard bid her farewell at the entrance of the ballroom.

Mab sucked in a breath as she entered. She had been expecting something similar to the ballrooms she’d danced in when her and her father visited London for the season, something bright and airy, dripping in golds and pastels and complete with a black-clad white-wigged quartet. The ballroom at Aunt áine’s followed the same lush hunting theme as the rest of the house. Candles littered the room, casting a soft glow, and instead of a quartet, Mab noticed a small group of rough-hewn men with fiddles and accordions setting themselves up in the corner.

There were over twenty other women scattered about the ballroom. Some were dressed like princesses, with their hair twisted up into ornate buns and ordained with feathers and jewels, while others, like Mab, had decided on a humbler attire. Unlike the balls she’d attended with her father and Uncle Brian, none of the women seemed to be gossiping about each other. There were no scathing looks and taunting giggles behind fans. Instead, the girls seem to excitedly flit between each other, chittering and smiling. Others sat scattered about the various chairs, some deeply engrossed in a novel and others fixing corsages to their wrists.

While this mutual respect for each other was a welcomed change to what she was used to, she felt an instant pang of grief. What she’d enjoyed most about attending balls was when her uncle and her had settled down for a drink towards the end of the night to gossip. Mab would never dream of gossiping to anyone except Uncle Brian – mostly because the pair of them would make up wild and ridiculous stories based off the next-to-no information they’d gathered over the course of the evening. The stories they made up were never intended to be harmful and never uttered outside the detective duo. Especially as, almost always, the pair were completely wrong. Still, that didn’t stop them from making unfounded cognitive leaps on every titbit of eavesdropped gossip over a nightcap of brandy.

Oh, how she missed her uncle Brian.

In a bid to quell her grief, Mab scanned the crowd once more.

One girl in particular stood out to her.

Mab felt that, like herself, the girl wouldn’t be what people would call traditionally beautiful, but she was stunning nonetheless. The first words that came to the forefront of Mab’s mind were striking and ethereal . Her midnight-black hair billowed around her in loose waves, and she’d pulled it about her face in an attempt to hide herself. Her doe-like eyes were too big for her face, as were her rosy lips, but after a few glances, her features seemed to settle, and it was hard to imagine the girl without them. Her eyes were a striking sea-blue, and they flittered nervously about the room, finally settling on the clock on the mantel. The girl’s nose was her only unfortunate feature. Where it had clearly once been a perfect button nose, it now sat crooked on her face. Mab suddenly remembered what Arabella had said and wondered what kind of torment the poor girl had endured before being sent to this place.

She wanted so desperately to go over to the girl and offer her friendship, but Mab was suddenly engulfed in a swarm of silks and feathers.

“You must be Mab!” said the most ornately dressed lady. In a single breath, she continued, “I’m Emily! It’s so nice to meet you. How was your journey? I was petrified when the black carriage arrived to take me away. It felt like I was being abducted. Imagine my surprise when—”

“Emily, dear, give the girl a chance to respond,” said another. Mab nearly gasped when she noticed the petite woman hadn’t even dressed for the evening. She wore a long nightdress, an elaborately embroidered dressing gown that cinched in her waist and a pair of woollen slippers poking out from under her night clothes. “I’m Deidre.”

Mab opened her mouth to respond to the greeting, but Emily cut her off. “Oh, I’m ever so sorry! I tend to get carried away a little. I think that’s the reason my parents shipped me off here. I’d talked the ears off all the men in the ton, and there was none left who’d listen to me, let alone marry—”

Deidre coughed.

“My apologies, again!” Emily said sheepishly. She made a gesture of holding a key to her lips and locking them shut, before elaborately throwing the imaginary key over her shoulder.

“This one here is the best storyteller we have,” Deidre said, gesturing to Emily. “Honestly, you’ll have to come to one of our ghost readings some night. And this is Diane,” said Deidre, signalling to a girl at her other side.

Diane had opted for a pale lavender gown which complemented her smoky quartz skin and ebony eyes. Diane offered Mab a bright smile, which Mab couldn’t help but return.

“Oh! Yes! The maids make us sandwiches and little pies, and we sit around the fire and tell ghost stories until one of us starts crying. That’s usually me, even though I’m the one telling the stories,” said Emily, her imaginary locked lips forgotten.

“You only cried the once,” said Deidre.

“It’s very nice to meet you all,” Mab said, thinking this was perhaps the strangest gathering of women she’d ever encountered.

“How are you finding it so far?” asked Emily. “I just love it here! I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. Yesterday, for example, I spent my entire day in the library. I was never allowed to do that at home. My father used to lock the library saying girls shouldn’t fill their heads with that kind of stuff. But I liked it. I didn’t have anyone to talk to at home, and my father grew embarrassed of taking me to the balls, because people soon started avoiding me like the plague. It really was—oh, look! There’s Charlotte! And” – Emily grasped the wrists of Deidre and Diane as she sucked in a deep breath – “she’s wearing a rose! I’m so sorry to have to cut this short, Mab, but I really must go and speak to her.”

Before Mab had the chance to say goodbye, Emily had glided off in the direction of a chestnut-haired girl who donned a rose corsage. The girl was quickly swarmed by others, who all giggled excitedly as she held up her flowered wrist.

“Emily can be somewhat intense at times,” said Deidre quietly with a slight hint of warning in her tone. “But she is our friend and has a heart of gold.”

“She does seem very lovely and genuine,” Mab said. “Did her father really send her here because she talked too much?”

Deidre nodded but offered no more of Emily’s story. “Anyway, what corsage will you be choosing tonight?”

“I think I will be returning to my rooms tonight.” Mab glanced between the girls. Diane wore a corsage of red roses. Strangely, Deidre, who was dressed for bed, wore a marigold on her wrist.

Deidre grinned up at Mab as if sensing her confusion. “I won’t be attending for long. Just a few moments at most.”

Her answer left Mab with more questions, but before Mab could probe further, the clock on the mantel chimed and an excited hum exploded through the room, which almost immediately quietened when the doors opened, and a servant appeared in the doorway .

“The men will be arriving in fifteen minutes, ladies. For those of you who wish to retire to your rooms, please do so now. For those who are staying, please don’t forget to choose your corsage.”

There was a bustle of activity, and Mab saw the dark-haired girl with the crooked nose rise from her chair and head towards the doorway. Mab hastily said her goodbyes to the two women and made to catch up with her. When she stepped outside the ballroom, she was surprised to see even more burly servants scattered about, each sitting and quietly scanning their eyes over the hallway. As Mab passed, they bobbed their heads in acknowledgement before returning to scan the area. She noted, however, that when the nervous dark-haired girl passed by them, not one acknowledged her, allowing the girl to skitter past them unnoticed.

Strange , thought Mab.

Mab finally caught up to the girl just as they reached the stairway that would take them up to their rooms.

“Hello,” Mab said in as quiet and calm a tone as she could muster.

The girl squeaked in surprise, her doe eyes widening. “Um, hello,” she muttered.

The candlelight cast an eerie glow over her unblemished skin, and Mab got the distinct impression of a porcelain doll. “I’m Mab,” she offered.

The girl’s eyes flicked to the stairs just as the melodic music from the ball echoed down the hall.

“My n-name is Tilly,” the girl said quietly.

“Say, Tilly,” Mab replied carefully. “This is my first night here and I’m a little nervous. Would you mind joining me for a cup of tea? I would really appreciate the company.”