High Society novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: The First Ball

The Countess's ballroom held four hundred people and a thousand candles.

I stood at the top of the stairs on Hugh's arm with the Dowager behind me, and a footman bellowed my name into the noise.

"Lady Charlotte Wrenfield!"

The noise dropped.

I wore a plain blue gown that the Dowager's dressmaker had made in two days.

I wore white gloves to the elbow, and my hair hung down over both ears.

I had my chin up, and my back straight, and a pulse in my throat.

"Walk," said Hugh, under his breath.

We walked.

Four hundred faces turned and followed us down the stairs.

Women lifted their fans.

I heard the whisper pass along the wall ahead of me, as quick as fire in dry grass.

"The sister."

"The Cornish one."

"The dairymaid's daughter."

The last one came from a woman in purple silk with feathers in her hair.

A diamond the size of a pigeon's egg sat on her chest.

She said it behind her fan, but not quite far enough behind.

I stopped.

Hugh felt me stop, and his arm tightened under my hand.

"Effie," he said, very quietly.

"I have it."

I turned and walked straight across the carpet to the woman in purple.

The room went so quiet that I could hear the fiddlers tuning.

"I beg your pardon, madam," I said.

"I believe you were speaking of my mother."

She lowered her fan.

She had a long pale face and small eyes, and she looked me up and down with great deliberation.

"I said what everyone is thinking," she said.

"Your mother milked cows."

"She did."

"Then I wonder how you come to be in my friend's ballroom."

"Because my mother worked with her hands for forty winters," I said, "and never once sold herself or anyone else to pay a bill."

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