IN HIS WRITING

LONDON 1860..,

 It is to be known, when a girl turns sixteen-: She is no more a girl!

London is, and has always been, a city known for its overly mysterious weather. Once a sunny morning, twice a changed afternoon and evening. It is as that! Just different.

Well, today, the mysterious weather has not glimmered any change from the breezy, windy atmosphere it was. Maybe, it is the stand that London's and beyond finest ladies are to be introduced to society for the first time at the Marquees of Winchester ballroom dash party.

It is indeed their 'first time' as it is England's tradition, after every New Year, to appreciate the new diamonds, formally being welcomed into society. Sixteen is always the name, and sixteen is always the age. Previously, the girls' need was to stay pretty at home, learn embroidery, the art of being a perfect wife, and most importantly, stay innocent.

Innocence was a key. A key that, if badly tampered with, rest assured, society would never embrace you. You would be a disgust, just like a family carrying many debts, in addition to that whose daughters have never been successful in finding a marriage suitor during their first year of introduction. They sure would be spinsters forever; a word not greatly advantageous to women.

'A woman needed a man, and the most successful woman was she who secured a man (suitor) in her first societal introduction.'

Additionally, it was the grandiose job of societal mamas to make sure their daughters were well acquainted with the best bachelors, in addition to their sons dancing with the most appealing diamonds ever. The latter and former were the only jobs a woman had throughout the course of her marriage life, and of course, inviting and preparing a ballroom party. It was a woman's pride to gossip about her daughter securing the hand of a handsome Russian Prince and to quietly whisper about that one family whose daughters never get noticed at any ball, even their own if they are to prepare one. No woman dreaded such fate for their girls, in addition to sons if need be.

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"Victoria, are you done yet?" The Countess of Lancaster's voice echoed through the large, newly relocated Lancaster mansion in London. "Victoria, we are going to be late, my dea…" She now emphasized, with a scowl of distress on her face, as she started climbing up the stairs to see what was taking her daughter so long.

"Let me intercede, mother," called out Andrew, the eldest son, after seeing the distress and worry on his mother's face.

"Please do, dear," the countess hurriedly replied, climbing down the stairs from halfway up, to make way for her son.

Seeing Andrew climb all the way up, she headed directly to the library to meet her dear husband, Lord Benjamin Lancaster, the Earl of Lancaster. A man of his own wit.

"Dear," the countess whispered after entering the door, "she is to be introduced… finally, our girl…" The countess stopped herself, the quiver and melancholy in her voice quickly noticed.

"Shhh…" The earl quickly shushed her, rising from his seat to at least embrace his discomfort-filled wife. "Is she down yet?" he questioned, slightly hugging her as if she were a hot furnace.

"Not yet, Andrew has gone to fetch her…" Some distant humor-filled noises and chants distracted the talk, as the countess tried to restate whatever she was saying. "I believe she…" Before she could finish, the earl was already out of the library, and so she ought to follow him.

In the living room, they all stood: the Lancaster family, from the youngest daughter Alexia, playing with her well-embroidered doll, to the second oldest son Beaufort. And there was Victoria, at the top of the staircase, hand in hand with Andrew, and the four maidens who were helping her with the gown.

Victoria was no ordinary pretty earl's daughter. She was exquisite, by her own sense and mannerism. Her white gown depicted her pure nature and innocence, as always taught. In addition, the little elegance of a fancy headgear placed perfectly on the left side of her black hair bun made her look outrageously gorgeous. All her brothers except Andrew, who was escorting her down the staircase, looked at her in awe. Beaufort smirked, Christian, the third of the men, almost jumped in disbelief, and well, her sisters… Alexia, the youngest, smiled to the occasion. But for Amelia, the fifth following Victoria, the weight of future expectations somehow hit her, though she still prided and celebrated her sister.

"Oh dear," the Countess rushed to give her daughter a warm hug after arriving down the staircase.

"Mamma," Victoria stated in reverence, as she wiped off her mother's escaping tears.

"I can't contain myself, dear. You are... you remind me of my first introduction…"

"We have to leave!" A thunderous sound from the Earl was heard, washing away the mother-daughter moment.

It was within the Earl of Lancaster's character to never acknowledge emotions, especially those that scratched the senses of vulnerability.

Side by side, Victoria walked with Andrew, he grazing her left arm and quietly caressing it with his thumb. He sure would marry her if she were not his sister.

"Are you nervous, sister?" Andrew questioned as they reached the outside lodge where the carriages were perfectly aligned.

"A little," Victoria vulnerably answered, the palpitation in her voice noticeable. Vulnerability was always something she never hid when it came to her brother Andrew.

Andrew did not respond. He just slowly escorted her to the lone black carriage meant for the sisters. She alone would ride it so. Her sisters were not yet old enough for societal introduction.

Andrew quietly opened the door for his sister, and right when Victoria was in, Amelia fast showed up.

"Sister," she shouted for Victoria's attention but was stopped by Andrew, who called on one of the guards to get her inside the house. Night was falling; it was not safe for her out. However, stopping her was barely in consideration of the time of the day, but more of not making Victoria less worry.

"We shall meet at the Winchester ball." Andrew smiled towards his sister, confidently stating the words. He then closed the carriage door and left for his, and his brothers', four-wheel and two-carriage.

The Marchioness of Winchester was one woman who quite enjoyed the preparation of a ball. She especially delighted in calling and hosting a ball as the first societal event after New Year. She somehow enjoyed it. Probably, it was the intrigue of seeing new girls become ladies or, better, bachelors finally find love connections within the confines of her beautiful mansion. Additionally, societal mamas and gentlemen were eager to attend; they actually encouraged her with questions like, "When do you plan on a ball?" and "My now sixteen-year-old daughter awaits your invitation eagerly. Not to forget, "I can't wait seeing your son embrace the Lancaster's daughter at the ballroom."

Thus, as the wants of the Marchioness of Winchester, well-crafted and neatly polished carriages aligned in front of her big mansion, more likened to a castle. She stood at the front, arm in arm with her firstborn son, now the Marquees of Winchester, after the death of his father—apparently stated to have died bedding a maid.

"Welcome Lady Hardington, Lord York, Lady Evalyn...," the Marquees called out to each one as they entered, greeting all with his renowned not-so-eye-catching smile.

As the societal members and guests came in one by one, at exactly seven in the evening, the Lancaster family arrived. Their carriages perfectly followed each other, from the Earl of Lancaster's leading to the last, carrying his sons. With all out of their carriages, the Earl started his way up the stairs, with the Countess following, as Lord Andrew went straight to his sister, Lady Victoria, and helped her up the stairs toward wherever their father would head first.

"Earl of Lancaster," the Marquees, whose name was Hardy Bactuss Winchester, called out.

With a smile, the Earl walked to meet the Marquees, with the whole Lancaster family in attendance behind him.

"My condolences for your loss, Lord Winchester," the Earl called out, as everyone behind him looked down pretending not to hear his words.

"Come in, please, enjoy," Lord Winchester quickly added, displaying uneasiness, as the Lancaster family walked fully up the staircase. "Lady Lancaster," he suddenly added after a few seconds, when Victoria's two brothers, Christian and Beaufort, walked in.

"And what are your wants, Lord Winchester?" Andrew's harsh voice cut into the small talk or perhaps hints Lord Winchester was trying to direct toward Victoria.

"Lord Andrew…, please..," Lord Winchester politely called out Andrew, directing them up the stairs to the front door, by hand gesture. With that, Andrew and Victoria walked past the Marquees.

"His father died sinfully, not your match!" Andrew whispered after walking a little further up the stairs. "I know what's best for you, sister," he added, giving Victoria a reassuring smile, as they both engrossed themselves into the mansion.