The Column of Desire

*Warning: Mentions of death, suicide

Madame Mariquita’s 

Societal News

Where every secret is revealed.

October 29th, 1814

Dearest curious reader,

To welcome those new to this column and remind those who have stood the test of time, my name is Madame Mariquita, the greatest name without a face you shall ever know.

It has come to my attention that the social season is upon us, arriving in a rather serendipitous fashion. Despite the unfortunate events befalling King Ferdinand into a bedrest last summer, Queen Arabella has galvanized the ton by urging her staff to continue with the plans of the season’s first ball. Perhaps it is an act of desperation, for her last four matches have resulted in catastrophic consequences due to the lack of restraint and order we have all been witnesses to. 

I have been gone for far too long and so have you, reader, so it is best to refresh that fleeting memory of yours. In this string of tragedy, woe and ridicule, we must trace this back all the way to four years ago. 

During the beginning of that season, Queen Arabella uttered the most valiant roar in her reign, an act once believed courageous, now regarded untimely for the King to have allowed such a thing in his prime. She had decided, with an assertive hand, that she would declare Miss Wilhelmina Fortescue her first “Diamond of the First Water” and Duke Francis Ormond, the gentleman to heed that calling. Miss Fortescue was perhaps the most dazzling debutante to have ever graced Her Majesty’s quarters, hence her intent on matching her with only the finest eligible bachelor in all the ton, found in the Duke. Albeit her full dance card, the diamond danced only in the Duke’s circle all the way to a gorgeous ceremony. That is…until fatal childbirth cut her life (and the child’s) short at one and twenty, the poor Duchess. As for His Grace, he stormed off with his stallion into the wild only to allow himself to be struck by lightning, terminating his life at five and twenty. Thus ended both the Fortescue and Ormond family lines.

Devastated, His Majesty urged the Queen to tightly secure the upcoming match. With the following season in her horizon, Miss Sarah Debling was named diamond of the season. While not as charming or good-looking as the late Duchess, dear Miss Debling stood out in a sea of mediocrity, matched with the Earl of Kent, Horace Wovencroft. Best friends with the late Duke Ormond of Barlow, the Earl had been indubitably hesitant to face the attention his comrade had seamlessly handled up until the unexpected demise. With an unsteady hand, the diamond and the Earl wed rather hastily. Three weeks after an apparently torrid honeymoon, Wovencroft was found dead in the comfort of his own home, with the newlywed Countess having fled the scene to somewhere in Hamburg, Germany.

Whispers of a royal curse began to spread amuck. Teeth gritting, mouth chattering and wigs tattered, the King and Queen proposed a different angle for the next season. Their daughter, Princess Harriet was in line to marry and produce an heir (though she detested the idea). After weeks of gingerly, intense scrutiny in their research, Queen Arabella declared that this third season’s diamond would be her daughter (much to the disdain of the ton), who would be courted by Baron Nicholas Huntington. Such a ruggedly handsome gentleman with chiseled Roman features, that Baron. Oh, how the ladies would flock in his path while Her Royal Highness rolled her eyes with such contempt. She would soon find herself regretting the attitude and falling deep into the abyss of love. Huntington was no different as he would express his love with grand gestures (which embarrassed Her Majesty aplenty). Two hearts became one as the Princess and Baron wed in the most stupendous ceremony the ton had ever behold. After the birth of twins Benjamin and Theodosia, the couple could not be happier. Two fortnights before the dawn of the new season, however, Her Royal Highness was found unconscious on the floor of her bed. Poor Huntington rushed to aid her ailing condition but found no response to any swift, medical method. Despondent and bound by the darkness in his soul, he concocted a potion of cyanide to terminate all agony tormenting his heart.

In the speed of light, the Princess somehow had awakened from the strange slumber, only to find her beloved husband with a lifeless smile stricken across his face. After a copious note she left on the desk for her mother to read, Princess Harriet drank the residual poison and hugged her husband, tighter than she had ever held him when he was alive. 

No morning had ever lacked crisp air and was overwhelmed with heavy fog as much as that morning when the King and Queen lost their eldest daughter, who left her children as orphans. Tragedy pierced open the Royal family’s hearts so that their every day wore shades of the darkest blues and dullest of grays. But the Queen…the Queen spun herself into a spiral of insanity devised by her own mind, a forlorn creation. Something must go right, the next match shall be infallible, the Queen persuaded herself, or so my sources claim.

This last season you must remember vividly, reader, for it caused such a stir among the ton. His Majesty had delayed the start of the season for two entire months of mourning, understandably so, but Her Majesty demanded that her announcement of the diamond be heard. She demanded the ton to bear witness of her emotional recovery, urging them to flip the next page towards a new chapter in this delectably twisted book. 

Miss Cecilia Lockhart, a rare gem indeed, was selected as last season’s diamond. A woman with a versatile set of skills and robust intellect, Miss Lockhart had always been a force to be reckoned with. Matched with the Marquess Edgar Pemberton after a quick acquaintance was made through the Queen, her debut in the season would’ve been considered a roaring success. That being said, one slip between the cracks could collapse an entire kingdom. As the wedding neared, the Marquess fell sick to typhus. One would think that your betrothed would embrace the potential responsibilities of caring for your spouse. 

Oh, how wrong were we all. 

Miss Lockhart had been chaperoned while frequently meeting with an unnamed common clerk. Days turned into weeks until Pemberton uttered his last breath. With absolutely zero regard or respect toward her beloved, Miss Lockhart wed the clerk the very next day after the funeral. His Majesty was willing to look the other way but the Queen, restless and furious, ordered to exile the disgraceful couple to the Southern region of a French province. 

Frightened…that is the ton’s current emotion and perspective toward the seasonal curse. Some expect the curse to finally lift with the dawn of the fifth season, but others, such as myself, with no knowledge of this interim, believe otherwise.

Tonight, however, the diamond ball shall unravel every whim that has escaped this author’s watchful eye. With all this in mind, I ask all of you…

Is all fair in love and war? Only one way to find out.

Yours truly,

Madame Mariquita

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Madame Mariquita’s 

Societal News

Where every secret is revealed.

November 1st, 1814

Dearest curious reader,

How wonderful is it to see your gaze back on this page. I am delighted beyond the sky’s atmosphere to share the intriguing beginning to the most anticipated season of all. 

The debutante ball enraptured the ton in delightful music and hors d'oeuvres. None were more content than Her Majesty The Queen, who in the first minutes of the ball named the season’s diamond in the sparkling Helena Sedgewick. Full of poise and grace, Miss Sedgewick charmed the ton, with a dance card so full, she was requested to attach a new one at her hand. Rumor has it that the Queen is eyeing the likes of the Viscount Archibald Ashbury, who is the only sibling in his family yet to marry. But to speak of one Sedgewick is to invoke another, as Miss Helena’s brother, the Baron Samuel Sedgewick, announced that he intends to look for a wife this season. Oh, how the ladies swept across the room to seek his attention. As Miss Helena danced the night away with many potential callers, the Baron parted the Red Sea of his mind to set his sights on one Alethea Sinclair, pianoforte extraordinaire and distant relative to the late Earl of Kent. 

Soon enough, while the freshly minted 7th Symphony of Beethoven captivated dancers and the audience alike, this author caught wind of the righteous and effervescent voice of the one and only Viscount, already speaking of a proposal to Miss Sedgewick and on the first night of the season! Mr. Ashbury seemed much too eager to accept while she was rendered speechless by the thought alone. Taking note from the gentleman, sources believe that Mr. Sedgewick took matters into his own hands and discussed plans of a wedding to his would-be betrothed, Miss Sinclair. A striking friendship was formed between Miss Sedgewick and Miss Alethea, so much so that it is believed that a double wedding could begin development at an early stage. This author would like to end today’s column rather quickly and on a positive note, which, believe me, astonishes me much more than it does you. 

This begs the question we are all asking…will this curse finally be lifted?

Time can only tell.

Yours truly,

Madame Mariquita

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Madame Mariquita’s 

Societal News

Where every secret is revealed.

February 15th, 1815

Dearest curious reader,

You may be wondering why our thrice weekly conversations have been drifted apart by time itself. Even my paper shriveled in all its lonesome after missing the caress of my beloved quill. But the season has taken its most peculiar turns, we should have expected the unexpected from the very beginning. Reader, what I am about to share with you is of a delicate matter but the show must go on. You deserve to be well-aware of one special cohort, which we call “the truth”. I - for one - am the superlative choice to divulge such information. Both exemplary engagements (that of Miss Helena with the Viscount and the Baron with Miss Alethea) have been absolutely led astray in the most inconceivable manner. 

You may ask…how should I weigh the level of scandal amongst them? Ask and you shall receive.

Let us begin with the diamond of the season. 

Not long after rumors of a proposal were heard, Miss Sedgewick accepted the hand of Lord Ashbury. Their mamas anxiously buried their heads devotedly to the wedding planning, which relieved the bride and groom of many extenuating duties. Their long strolls to the park and the modiste had a routine and a small fame of their own, thawing the hearts of the heartless and uplifting the spirits of the hopeless. One afternoon after the Sinclair ball, Miss Helena mounted her usual carriage with the Viscount only to find his bread and butter fashion with local painter and bugger, Frederick Stanhope. Shame should be considered an utter understatement of what the Ashbury family must be coping with (my foremost condolences to you). 

Crestfallen at the state of her life and betrothal, poor Helena ran from the scene to escape such a dastardly fate. She began to confide in Miss Alethea, who at the time was still engaged to the Baron. Night and day, the companionship between the two strengthened while inside sources claim that this caused the spark between Miss Sinclair and Lord Sedgewick to dwindle. Festivals, tea parties, balls…name the event and this pair would attend like peas in a pod. 

Envy boiled at the height of the stars. 

A heated tiff heightened between bride and groom, when one threatened to break off the engagement whilst the other simply implied to become a societal fugitive. To render matters all the worse, Miss Alethea chose to run away with her most trusted friend, Miss Helena. Both women fled London the morning after to avoid the unleashed wrath of the Baron. Sources mumble that the new spinsters are now involved in an illicit affair somewhere in Bath. It makes this author wonder how youth raised under the same rules of etiquette would exhibit such sinful behavior. But alas, Queen Arabella surrendered in her fight against the curse. No longer should she meddle with diamonds and balls, so long as the marriage mart spun without her. 

If the curse has yet to be lifted, could there be a counterstrike to defeat it? Reader…I ask of you…could an epiphany unveil itself in such tumultuous times?

A revelation could not come soon enough. 

Yours truly,

Madame Marquita