LONDON, APRIL 27th, 1872
It is the day of the Ball. Louise, Marion and I are all gathered in the dressing room, preparing for the evening ahead. Lady Northcott joins us soon after, admiring our gowns and smiling excitedly. I can tell she is truly happy to be hosting this Ball. It must have been her dream for a long time now.
She seems more relaxed now that everything is ready and is chatting with us in a friendly manner. She is especially interested in finding out who her daughters liked most amongst the suitors that visited the Northcott house. As I hear that question, I sigh, turning around so they can’t see my face.
The truth is, I wasn’t excited about the Ball at all. To me, it presented just another unnecessary display of fortune to other snobs of the city. Don’t get me
