Your coming out ball had been the scariest thing you’d ever done. Everyone seemed to scrutinize you. Every murmur that bounced off the walls, and the candles created an almost sinister environment. You felt more than out of your league, and had to force yourself to speak every time you were spoken to, as the fear rendered you mute. Most unfortunate for you, you had to speak to just about everyone; Mrs. Fish, Mrs. Fane, Mrs. Van Rhijn- who stared into your soul for every moment of the party- Mrs. Scott Mrs. Winterton, Mr. Stanford, Mrs. Beaton, Mr. McAllister; you even had to speak to the queen of society, Mrs. Aster. She called you an interesting creature. You have no idea whether that’s good or bad, but you had no choice but to say your thanks and hope for the former.

However, you must have done something right, as a few days later, you received your first individually addressed letter. To you and you alone. The letter contained an invite to a small gathering at Mrs. Fish’s house, inspired by the English custom of afternoon tea. A simple, intimate gathering with a guest list of about 7. That’s much better than the tens of tens of people at your first party. So you said yes and got a carriage to Mrs. Fish’s home. The place was bright and smartly decorated, with gold accents and crown molding details on the ceilings. Nice, smart.

As one of the servants announces your name, you realize you’re the second person here. Mrs. Fish stands looking out the winds and speaking to a footman. The other person there just about gives you a heart attack. It’s Mrs. Russell. Her hair is pinned up and curled, as usual, with a swoop in her bang. She wears a red dress with a high neckline, brown and red clashing in an oddly beautiful way. Her eyes, blue and deep as a midnight sky, stare at you for a moment, before softening fractionally. She raises a lythe hand and waves you over.