Chapter 2 — The Society’s Rebel
A moon passed, however, Duke Landon’s punishment for his only daughter persisted. Young Lady Francesca was still barred from attending any social gatherings of any sort. She was kept inside the duke’s manor as an ultimatum for all the scandals she’d stirred and was only allowed to wander on the nearby cotton farm.
Bearable at first, it was, not until the night of Prince Regent George IV of England’s birthday arrived. It was noted to be the most highly awaited and anticipated event of the year, and it would be a great loss to not attend.
“Father, you can’t be serious about leaving me here in the castle when I could be at the palace dancing and having good time with my friends,” Lady Francesca reasoned, but to no avail. The duke’s heart had already hardened from the repeated petty scandals she had gotten herself into, and with the additional convincing from his new wife.
Just last month, Lady Francesca ditched a dance with the renowned gentleman Earl of Yorkshire in the middle of the musical piece just to catch a glimpse of the beautiful northern skies outside. It was the most ridiculous reason to spout, but with the lady’s infamous reputation, she managed to convince the man. Then recently, the badmouthing scandal on the widow Countess Candace added more fuel to the fire.
Duke Landon was nowhere near persuaded on Lady Francesca’s word. The rest of the population knew how prestigious tonight’s ball was; it honored the day the kingdom’s ruler first caught a glimpse of the earthly light.
He couldn’t afford to risk the event’s peace with his daughter’s unpredictable bold stunts, no matter how disheartened he was in doing so. She was not just carrying herself with her, but also the multitude of the Feledencia Dukedom. Better to take precautions, then regret the aftermath.
***
Meanwhile, the Earl of Verindale was currently riding his way to the St. James’s Palace, where the year’s greatest celebration would be held, as usual. Atop his head was a black beaver hat made of matted fabric which was repeatedly pummeled and boiled to achieve the thickened felt. He wore a white muslin shirt with ruffles on the front and had a high collar that reached the chin when starched and standing up.
The valet then topped it with a dark tailcoat with a waist-length cut in the front that continued down the back of the knee. His lower body was adorned with personally tailored pantaloons. Finally, to complete the gentlemanly rugged look, he paired it with tall, polished boots that extended to the mid-calf. Combined with the devilish smirk plastered on his face, he presented as a noble and a rake all at the same time.
He rarely came to the palace, maybe once or twice a year, if necessary, as he was not the best among his fellow lordships with his indifferent principalities, ideas, and beliefs in life.
Nevertheless, he was painted as a bold, distinct villain on aristocracy, so he remained firm, steadfast, and resolute.
The coachman halted as the carriage reached the designated unloading vicinity just in front the St. James’s Palace’s high and rigid cold metal gate, deprived of any sign of corroding rust due to excellent maintenance.
The Earl of Verindale withdrew the curtain and looked outside to confirm his intuition of having reach the destination. He quietly stepped outside. The rich, lively, and playful melody of the orchestral band inside was within hearing.
It was very alive and joyful, and everything would be near perfect, if not for the disdaining presence of social gaps between the fortunate folks and the unfortunates, the elites and the commoners. Only people part of the peerage was allowed inside, leaving the ordinary English to celebrate on the market streets.
As the hypocritical aristocrat he is, Lord Dynirho Syford brought a simpleton tenant’s daughter, who, after proper training, was capable of great wit and bearable poise. Offering his right hand, the lucky commoner girl accepted as taught. Then, she unmounted from the luxurious coach, which was adorned with expensive, high-class curtains with golden tussles on their hems.
Smiling lightly, a shade of light pink appears on both her cheeks. She is nervous. Definitely. Emily couldn’t think much about being chosen to be the most honorable earl’s muse, instead of the lovely Catherine, whose beauty matched noble-born ladies of their time, despite her lowly birth. Perhaps, it was Emily’s wit that was most desirable for such a critical situation as proving a point to society.
“A lady’s chin should, at all times, be raised up high to declare her finesse and confidence,” Lord Syford reminded his muse as he lightly lifted her jaw to awaken her suppressed brave spirit. Slowly she remembers when she advertises the locally produced cottons during the market and that she is an outspoken woman. Finally, the slight tremble and feeling of unease and uncertainty left her.
“Trap not yourself under their arrogant noses and act as you are: fine and outspoken,” he added as he kissed the back of her palms, before releasing it to hold her on the crook of her elbow.
They proceeded inside, and as expected, the spotlight shifted on them like an unwritten law. Who would dare not look at the rumored hypocritical aristocrat when he pulled another bold act worthy of intrigue?
Their eyes pierced like silent daggers as if trying to unveil the identity of the Earl of Verindale’s muse for tonight. It was a hobby to check on his date and whether he had tried to bend to the natural way of the peerage or decide to go his own way. As for today’s occasion, he chose the latter.
“Welcome to the dance, Lord Syford! What a great pleasure it is to be graced by your aromatic wonderful presence?” A random lady in her mid-forties approached and greeted him wearing big hat adorned with ostrich feathers and rose flowers.
Emily, as taught, curtsied to the older woman and gave her best smile. Smiling all night long was definitely the easiest way to survive such critical society so new to a commoner like her.
“How could that be possible, when all I can feel is the intoxicating allure of your ageless beauty?” Dynirho retorted back before gently kissing the back of the hand of the random lady, he knew not her name. And he would definitely not ask her directly as it would be deemed disrespectful for the woman knew his already.
The woman didn’t try to hide her ecstatic feeling as her cheeks bluntly revealed it to everyone present. “What a good tongue you have there, that an aged flower like mine was able to bloom in no particular reason,” she complimented. Well, of course, it was one of the qualities of the Earl of Verindale.
With no further ado, Dynirho moved on having the woman puts cure on his trouble of not knowing her name. “By the way, I would like to introduce my lovely muse, Lady Emily Emmerson of Verindale,” Lord Syford composedly introduced, laying the foundation of his tricks. Now, it was by default that random lady would have to introduced herself too to Emily and to him as well, who doesn’t actually know nor remember her at all.
“Oh! Emily, what a lovely name. My name is Carlotta August-Chandler, the duchess of Feledencia. It was nice meeting you.” Finally, his thirst for her name was satisfied. Now, they have to find themselves comfortable seats.
As Lord Syford and Emily was about to walk pass her after bidding temporary goodbyes, the duchess halted them with an interesting question. “I am no blind nor deaf about your rogue reputation. Now, would you mind sharing me the ‘who about’ of this ill-favored lady you brought along with you, wouldn’t you?” she asked them with a grin.
It was, after all, her motive in the first place in approaching them, aiming to get firsthand info for gossip. It’s not like Dynirho wasn’t in for it.
Curling his luscious naturally velvety lips, he smirked, revealing his seductive allure. Even the duchess had to look elsewhere to avoid the hypnotizing power. He leaned to her ears and whispered the things she yearned the most.
“Emily Emmerson, a cotton farmer’s daughter…” he honestly admitted. Shock and dismay were evident in Duchess Carlotta’s eyes. “…but Emily can speak and dance as well as the nobles.”
He released the duchess and then he disappeared in the waves of people, with his commoner muse by his side. Perhaps, it was enough to spread the word of his indifferent might for tonight, he thought.