Two Sides Of The Same Coin Pt 03

Dalton House, Mayfair

Margot picked at a honey cake while Juliette styled her hair, twisting it into a long plait, and wrapping it around itself until it formed a neat bun that sat on her head, a couple of loose curls hanging down to frame her delicate cheekbones.

Rose knocked and rushed into the room to stand at her side, holding a long linen garment bag carefully in her arms, the way one would a newborn baby.

"It is time for your dress," she squealed excitedly.

"Oh I cannot wait to see it," Juliette joined in dreamily, "Mrs Langley has been going on and on about how divine they are since yesterday morning, Louise is delivering Amelia's now as well!"

"Joyce and Marie were bragging about getting the first peek at them after they went with Mrs Langley to collect them yesterday," Rose gossiped, "I heard they even gave Amanda a sneaky peek at hers after supper last night!" Ivy gawped at her, open mouthed, a look of disappointment on her face.

"Oh but Lady Dalton worked so hard to keep them a surprise for the girls until tonight!"

Margot rolled her eyes, smiling at their insistent chattering; she loved Rose and Juliette and considered them to be two of her dearest friends, even if they were also servants. They always knew how she was feeling, and how to bring her out of herself when she was feeling nervous. She was truly grateful for them at this moment.

"Alright ladies, alright," Margot interrupted, "are we to open it or shall we all just stare at it and hope it opens itself?" Rose and Juliette chortled, holding up either end of the bag whilst untying the end, both gasping in unison as they gently removed the dress.

She knew her mother had the finest taste in all of Mayfair, and so felt secure in the knowledge that whatever she chose would surely be perfect. She didn't care to admit that she too was just a little eager to see it though!

The fabric was the most luminous shade of silver she had ever seen, made from the softest silk that shimmered in the light.

"Oh my," Juliette said breathlessly, "It is gorgeous!"

"Breathtaking," Rose agreed. Margot skimmed her fingers along the silk, the fragile material slipping between them. She grinned, looking up at her maids.

"Shall we try it on?"

Margot stared at her reflection in the large mirror, Rose and Juliette stood behind her, beaming proudly as they pulled her white lace gloves up to her elbows before standing back to admire the young woman that looked back at them all. Margot clasped the dainty raindrop shaped emerald pendant that hung from her neck, her heart fluttering in her chest. The sleeves and hem of her gown were draped in tiny emerald droplets, that projected sparkling green dots onto the ceiling and walls as she moved.

"My word," she muttered, "Mother has outdone herself I rather think."

"I would certainly say so," Helena said, floating across the room to reach her youngest. Her eyes began to fog over, tears threatening to spill from them. "Darling," she whispered, standing behind her and placing her hands on her shoulders. "You look stunning." Rose and Juliette nodded hastily in agreement.

"You look like an angel, Miss," Juliette said."The Duke shall not be able to take his eyes off of you!" Rose cupped her mouth to hold in a giggle. Margot frowned at her through the mirror, her cheeks blushing red in embarrassment.

"Jules!" She scolded. Helena laughed, her hand reaching over and brushing Ivy's arm affectionately.

"Oh Juliette is quite right, The Duke would be simply mad not to want to propose to you after merely glimpsing you in this dress!"

"I fear your expectations are far too high, Mother," Margot mused, raising her eyebrows in amusement, "The Duke and I have danced and promenaded together once, who knows how many other ladies he has done the same with?" She sighed, slumping her shoulders for a moment, then straightening them before her Mother scolded her for slouching, as she often did.

"Well Mrs Langley told me that he has not been sighted promenading with anyone else," Helena said matter or factly, "nor has he courted any other ladies since he returned to London." Margot's nose wrinkled in disbelief.

"And how does Mrs Langley know that?" She enquired, desperately trying not to sound as eager as she truly was to know the answer.

"You underestimate Mrs Langley, my dear." Helena smiled, turning Margot by the shoulders around to face her, then twisting a curl that had fallen over her eye with her finger. "Now come, the carriage is ready."

Ingram House, Home of Madame De la Silva, Mayfair

Lady De la Silva's annual Silver Ball was one widely anticipated at the start of every season; for she was an eccentric Lady who knew how to throw a good party! A Duchess who's husband, Lord Harold Ingram, the late Duke of Gloucester, had sadly passed away seven years prior at the rather youthful age of forty six, after contracting cholera from his travels in Asia where he had been for the past three years prior; for his geographical studies came first and foremost in his list of priorities.

This left his wife, Madame Giselle Ingram née De La Silva, who was of both French and Spanish heritage, coming from a large line of European aristocracy, and who was currently still a rather young woman at the age of thirty eight, a vast fortune meaning she would never have to marry again if she did not wish; as she had enough money to live in abject luxury for more than twenty lifetimes! Their three young sons were also left massive stipends, with the eldest who was only fifteen years old, becoming the Duke of Gloucester at the tender age of eight.

The Silver ball; a loving imitation of the De La Silva balls she had attended back in her home country of Spain as a young girl that were thrown by her own parents, who then moved to London and hosted the Silver ball every summer at their home in Mayfair before passing away. She had been carrying on their legacy for the past fifteen years. Everything had to be adorned in silver, and guests dressed in silver as well; it had become hugely famous amongst the Ton.

There were thirty seven other rooms in Ingram House one could find themselves stumbling around in the dark in, potentially 'bumping into' someone else who too was possibly looking for a bit of fun, as so often happened during a summer ball. It was public knowledge that many a scandal had occurred there over the years.

Margot stepped into the ballroom, her arm looped through Amelia's. Amanda and George walked in front of them, their parents at the head.

Silver candle sticks decorated the ivory walls, with a huge diamond chandelier topped with what looked like thousands of tiny white candles, that was so large it almost covered the entire ceiling! Silver drapes hung over the windows, the bright moonlight casting a pale white light over the room, where everyone was dressed in silver, blue, and several shades of white; while the gentlemen wore their usual coats and tails, their cravats and waistcoats all different shades of grey, and silver, and of course the classic black.

Music filled the halls, Margot's heart soaring at the sound of the violins as they played an upbeat, modern melody, while a crowd of guests twirled around on the large dancefloor.

"Isn't it magical?" Helena chimed, turning to face her children, "I do so wish Elizabeth were here, but to be able to attend the Silver ball with three of my daughters as well as my son, is quite wonderful indeed!" Albert put his arm around his wife, smiling in agreement.

"Enjoy the night, girls," Albert said, stepping aside to allow them to walk ahead of him, leaning into speak to his wife's ear. "Will you save a dance for me, my lady?" Helena giggled as he lead her behind their children, George rolling his eyes at the embarrassing show of affection. He scanned around the room, his eyes finding Jack's as they nodded courteously at each other from across the long table that was topped with several silver trays full of food and tiny desserts; a knowing smirk on each of their faces.

"Dear family," he began, releasing Amelia's arm from his, "I will take my leave for a while, for I've just spotted a good friend of mine." Albert raised an eyebrow while Amanda smirked, following his eyeline over to the handsome, dark bronze haired gentleman wearing a dashing ice blue waistcoat under a navy coat and tails.

"Enjoy, brother," she mumbled as he passed her, "I know I would."

"You wouldn't even know what to do with him," he hissed back at a volume only the two of them could hear. Amanda choked out a laugh as George winked and hurried off through the crowd.

Margot strolled over to the lemonade table, the drinks were in tall, crystal champagne flutes, the liquid inside a pale shade of pink. She glanced around the room, secretly wondering where a certain gentleman could be.

"I do hope you were looking for me," Edward whispered into her ear from behind, startling her a little, "For I'd be heartbroken if you were searching for someone else." She inhaled sharply, her heart beginning to thrum faster in her chest. She cleared her throat, turning her head to face his.

He was a sight to behold; wearing a jet black velveteen coat and tails, with a waistcoat and cravat that matched the intense, pale grey of his eyes. A stray lock of hair rested over one eye, adding to his already mysterious demeanour. He was clean shaven, save for the ever so faintest fleck of stubble that dotted his jawline. He smelled like mint, and cinnamon; a mouthwatering scent that wafted into her nostrils, making her legs feel a little wobbly.

"Your Grace," Margot said musically while curtsying politely, "I was merely observing to see if the infamous Silver ball is as miraculous as I've been told, and they are indeed right, it is wonderful!" Edward roved his eyes over her; she looked more delectable than yesterday, and the day before, if that were even possible.

Her gown looked as though she were born to wear it, the silver silk hugging her subtle cleavage and hanging off of her slight curves; the tiny emerald droplets that dangled from her sleeves twinkling in the candlelight, casting glowing green shapes on the wall behind them. He loved the way the two rogue locks of golden hair had escaped from the neat plaited bun her hand maids had probably spent an age perfecting, brushing her jawline as she shyly tucked them away behind her ears. She truly was perfection itself!

"If anything here is miraculous, Miss Dalton," he said charmingly, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles softly whilst looking into her eyes, "it is surely how magnificent you look tonight." Her cheeks flushed pink as she smiled nervously at him, her fingers fumbling at the pendant on her chest.

"Your charm knows no bounds, your grace," she replied humbly, giggling for a touch too long. "A-are you having a pleasant evening?" She lifted a glass of the unusual pink lemonade to her lips as Edward watched her every move, his eyes fixed upon her. She licked the sweet liquid from her lips, causing a moment of agony for Edward as his cock tugged longingly for her.

"It has vastly improved in the last five minutes or so," he smirked, his eyes hovering over her chest for a moment before meeting her gaze.

"Well, Miss Dalton, I should very much like to dance with you, and to my good fortune your card is currently blank, meaning I get to steal you for a while." Edward looked around the room, his eyes locking with several gentleman staring sullenly in their direction. He leaned towards her to speak to her ear. "But I fear the wolves are descending," he muttered, discreetly placing his hand on her lower back as she looked after him around the room. "Shall we make our escape to the dancefloor?"

Margot smiled, turning and raising her chin slightly to look into his eyes.

"You certainly found me quickly, in such a large ballroom, full of people," she breathed, his lips still close to her ear, "I arrived less than five minutes ago." Edward's hand rested on Margot's back, her skin felt scorching under his fingertips.

"Would you believe that I have been waiting for you from the moment I arrived tonight?"

"I don't know," she replied, licking her lips that were becoming increasingly dry. "Were you?"

"What do you think?" He whispered, "You are the very reason I came." He moved his head away from her ear, his hand still firmly on her back as he gently guided her to walk alongside him, shaking his head a little to stop the scent of vanilla and roses from driving him into a lust filled frenzy. "So, Miss Dalton, shall we?"

Edward and Margot had danced an entire Waltz as well as a Quadrille together before they decided to break for refreshments. A group of three girls and one of their Mothers stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching their every move. Edward had excused himself after gulping down a glass, leaving Margot alone at the lemonade table where she overheard the girls whispering; clearly not realising she was on the other side of the table, now obscured from their view, but she could hear every word.

"Looks like the little Dalton darling has bagged herself a Duke," one girl sneered.

"Yes," another chimed in, a bitter edge to her voice, "through not entirely shameless means might I add. She practically threw herself at Mr Cleaver at the Debutante ball, and now the Duke here! Who next? The King of England at the Sotheby ball?" The girls all snorted with laughter, her Mother laughing loudly as well, joining in after spying the two together; for she was enraged with jealousy that it was not one of her girls being envied by everyone in the room!

"It does make one wonder how the Dalton girls were raised," she interjected, "Did their Mother teach them how to behave whilst out in society? To saunter around, positively reeking of desperation? The Duke has yet to dance with anyone else as the youngest little chit constantly hogs his attention!"

"I tire of hearing about the dreaded Dalton sisters," another girl complained spitefully. "Everyone talks about them. I do not even see what the fuss is all about anyway, for they are nothing special. Positively plain, even!"

"Indeed. Nothing special at all, the Duke would be far better suited to you, Jane!" The mother added.

"Precisely. For I am a far better dancer, too!" She replied, her eyebrows furrowed as she crossed her arms and pouted childishly.

Tears were threatening to spill from Margot's eyes as they continued their whispers. Did everyone talk about her and her sisters this way? She blinked her furious tears back, and popped her head out from behind a large ice sculpture shaped like the Arc De Triomph to reveal herself; the ladies faces all turning a deep pink as they realised that she had been listening.

"Perhaps the Duke would be more inclined to dance with you, Jane," The last word she said with an edge sharper than a sword as she maintained eye contact with the girl, who's name was apparently Jane. "If you presented yourself with at least a shred of dignity, rather than making cruel, jealous comments behind other peoples' backs."

"I-" The Mother interrupted.

"I do not wish to hear it," Margot snapped back, "for I have heard enough bile from you already, Madam. However, if you wish to speak about me and my family in such a manner I may have to inform my Mother, for I'd hate for you to feel obligated to attend her Flower Ball next month, when you harbour such ill feelings towards her and the way she has raised us?" The woman's jaw dropped, her mouth forming an O shape as the other girls' faces followed suit. George came to stand at his sister's side, looking between her and the wide mouthed women.

"Margot," he said with an air of suspicion, "Are you alright?" The tears stung Margot's eyes, she did all she could to stop them from spilling; she would die before she gave them the satisfaction of seeing that they had gotten under her skin! She sniffed loudly, turning her head toward her brother.

"Quite well, brother, thank you," she said sweetly, "However Mrs...What is your name?"

"Lady Smollett." The older woman replied bluntly, the word 'lady' spoken with a tinge of superiority.

"Indeed, Lady Smollett here was just saying how regretful she is that she will not be attending Mother's Flower ball next month, along with her daughters here." George frowned, having no idea what was going on, his eyes darting between his sister and the women stood in front of him; the older woman's face now a dark crimson. The girls all gasped in unison, a look of panic on their faces.

"Mama!" One daughter hissed quietly to her mother as she clung to her arm, "The flower ball is one of the most significant of the season! Do something!"

"Pity," he said insincerely, a slight smirk spreading across his face as he quickly sensed that these women had obviously wronged Margot in some way, and were now experiencing his sister's extremely petty side which had always greatly amused him. Unless he was on the other end of it, in which case it could be truly relentless! "Why would that be?" The older woman opened her mouth to speak before Margot piped up, a moment before she had a chance to form her words.

"Lady Smollett has been discussing how our own Mother raised us. She is not in agreement with her methods apparently, and believes that my sisters and I are shameless harlots." The smile was glued to her face, maintaining the sweetest disposition she possibly could.

"The girl exaggerates," Lady Smollett protested. "I did not say that!"

"Well would you care to tell my brother what you and your daughters did say about me?" Margot intervened. "Positively reeking of desperation? That was it, wasn't it?" Margot raised her eyebrows at Lady Smollett as her daughters were ghost white and silent, gawking at her with glassy eyes. They soon turned the same shade of red when they glimpsed at George, who was grimacing at them with what could only be described as sheer disdain. The woman was speechless, stuttering but not forming any actual words.

"Our private conversation was not for your ears," she finally managed to mumble. Margot could've throttled her! The smile faded from her face, and was replaced by an icy stare instead. She leaned in a little closer to the red faced woman.

"Well perhaps one should learn to whisper if one should like to have a very private, conversation, in a very public, place." She whispered, as if showing her how, her voice musical and quiet; so to any outsiders she looked as though she was merely exchanging pleasantries with what looked like a very flustered woman. "Anyway," she said breezily, shrugging her shoulders, "I shall give your regards to my Mother, and tell her to cross your names off of the invitation list. She shall surely be bereft, will she not, brother?" George cleared his throat to stifle a laugh; narrowing his eyes as he nodded disingenuously.

"Yes," he croaked, "she shall be devastated." He leaned to speak to Margot's ear. "Mother is looking for you, by the way."

"Thank you, George, please tell her I will be there in a moment. Have a fabulous evening, ladies!"

The pack of red faced women hurried away as George gave her shoulder a squeeze before heading off back into the crowd; they screamed at each other as they exited the ballroom, while a tired looking Father joined them as he called the footman for their carriage.

"Well I must say that was inspired." Margot turned her head to see a petite young woman peek out from behind the sculpture; smirking as she came to stand beside her. She had large, warm, hazel coloured eyes that glittered gold in the bright yellow glow of the chandelier above her. Her hair was thick, exceedingly long; and dark, like glossy melted chocolate, but in certain light it shone a deep bronze. She had the most perfect creamy skin, complimented by her gown that was a pale ice blue, with small silver gemstones that decorated her neckline. She was quite beautiful, Margot thought.