Deceptions

To my knowledge, as had been told to me by these noblemen, who I now know to be one Earl by the name of Lord Barnard, and a Lord Cybil, a wager had been placed, Upon which I was to play a large part. I was sat at a table by my lonesome as usual and happened to overhear the nature of a conversation hosted by these two noblemen leaning themselves over the counter with small glasses of whiskey from which they did not drink much. They were dressed finer than any other man in the place, in fancy coats and dapper hats, carrying canes and watches engraved with initials. Out of place as they were, it was more important to the peasantry, (as they described us), to be focused on our drinks.

Am I peasantry? Yes I am. For I never knew my father, and if his being dead would have left me with some amount fortune, twas surely taking a long time to arrive, and I would surely not be drinking here. No, I am not wealthy, and one might tell from the looks of me. My trousers tattered at the ends, muddied boots, and patched jacket would alert any man not to let me place any bets, for just from the looks of me they would know, I am not wealthy. My work was the factory, my tool was a shovel, my lungs filled with coal dust, and my pay was minute. I am a poor man through and through, inside and out. Which as would happen, made me perfect for what would be my next endeavor.

In any case, I will relay some dialogue from this conversation to supply some amount of context to my story.

“Tis by right of birth the power is dispersed!” said Lord Cybil.

“And you say this as recipient of this right?” replied Lord Barnard.

“Do I not look the part? The peasantry could never. They are simply incapable of such mannerisms, such elegance, they act as wild as any wild animal, and of that species, we are the most noble, and it is because we are born as such. Bring forth a wild mammal from Madagascar, place it in a party of distinguished lords and ladies, and attempt to distinguish it from the display you’d see in the wild. The point stands, they are simply incapable of anything but labor”

“If your meaning is to be unkind, it works well, my good man. The men and women of the lower classes can do just as well in our position, given time, one of their kind would surely assimilate.”

“An impossible feat! No amount of time given can tame a ragged oaf into something of substance.”

“Bah! Give unto me one fortnight! And at the end I shall host a lavish ball at my palace, in which you shall see, my creation of a lowly peasant into a prince!”

“Very well! But to make certain that you do not simply adopt some Lord I’ve never met and call him a transformed man, we must choose your subject right here, and now.”

“Indeed, so that all is fair.”

And this was the moment upon which I began to pay closer attention.

“You there! Lonely man!”

They took a couple stools and placed them opposite and adjacent to me at the table, I looked up.

“We have a proposition for you!”

Lord Barnard smiled warmly, attempting to be charismatic, and Lord Cybil, remained frozen in his face.

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Lord Barnard upon greeting me in a kind manner said unto me that God had not blessed me well, I agreed.

“My companion and I would like your assistance in a small wager, would you like to join? Or should we continue around the place and find another soul willing to spare their time?”

I asked them what this wager was. He introduced the idea to me as well as if he was to introduce a colleague. I shan’t bore you with the details of this conversation, my thought process, instead, was this; My work requires me to be in attendance for all of about twelve hours each day, at which I spend my time shoveling coal for a small wage. And one would expect, this activity would make one stronger in body. This is not the case, my bones ache every day, I seldom remember a day I have gone without pain as a result of work. And if I was to take this suspicious Earl on his word, I would be well provided for, all in the effort of winning a bet for which he promised a cut of the riches. However, even one day absent, let alone a fortnight, away from my work, I would surely be sacked and replaced by a scab. So, this means that if the Earl did not win, and in turn I had failed him, I would be left jobless, virtually penniless, and with a closet full of fancy clothing for which I have no occasion to wear it.

I thought to myself that if I was to do this, I would need to have some security, and I thought to myself a devious scheme. This plan would involve me, in a sense, seducing a wealthy lady in order to gain her fortune. If I could do this, I would surely have proven Lord Cybil wrong and win the bet. And after this, I would have a title, wealth, and security for the rest of my days. No more should I toil in the factory or live in a shack. I am still young, surely young enough to marry. And the appearance and manners, that will be paramount, although they will be taken care of within the fortnight.

I accepted, and Barnard was most obviously happy that he had found a good subject.

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Thus began my transformation. And I must say it was an extensive one. We agreed, when discussing this idea, that we should meet in the garment district of the city and there we would begin with the clothing. I’ve already described my clothing to you, ragged and worn, stained with coal dust, and most likely more than fifteen years of age. When I stepped into the district, it slowly transformed into another world. Whereas I was used to the smog and mist that crowded the streets more than people did, I did not see that here. Instead the streets were bustling with carriages and people. And the clothes they wore, the canes they carried, and the fanciful manner with which they carried themselves. I need not mention it was like stepping into a dream. The buildings were clean. And even the animals seemed to be more elegant than those where I was. Whereas the dogs where I was were wild and rabid, the dogs here seemed proper, walking with leashes studded with jewels. Even the little ones were holding their heads up high. And the birds. What can I say but of the songs they did sing. It was as if all the birds had gone from the smog and come here for more fresh air with which to sing. The streets were lined with stores and shops. One for every category of garment or accessory one could care to wear. Multiple stores for purses, and another just for gloves. One more for walking sticks, and two for hats. Of course, from what I could see, there may have been more around the block. The only irksome thing I could mention was the staring and mumbling from passersby, no doubt it was because of my clothing. Significantly underdressed for a walk I suppose.

The place we were to meet was a tailor by the name of Dupont. I had the address written upon a small sheet of paper in my left breast pocket. Upon approaching the building, which looked as any other building on that street, I saw two mannequins in the window sporting frocks and tophats and another with a less formal looking and thicker suit with a more casual cap. This, I decided, was the place, and pulled open the door and walked in. A man behind the counter, a balding man with a drooping face, and wearing a black waistcoat and tall collar, looked up from a pad he had been writing on and asked me about my business. And before I could answer, out came Lord Barnard from another room off to the side, he spoke;

“Dupont, this is my comrade I told you about, let me introduce my friend Howard.”

He was dressed finer than the night before, or perhaps I did not notice how fine he was dressed in the darkness of the pub. He wore a decorated waistcoat with thrice the buttons I had on mine, silk upon the lapels, and a cravat that was tied so effortlessly that one tug could unravel it. His trousers were striped and gray and black and you could see yourself in the caps of his boots. Meanwhile, I wore the only suit I owned which unfortunately my waist had grown out of. I then removed my cap and shook the hand of the tailor. Which he then nearly immediately removed from my grasp and wiped it on a cloth from his trouser pocket.

“Dupont, you are going to help this poor young chap, I’ve brought suits to the back here that you are going to gleefully alter for this fine gentleman.”

What followed consisted of constantly dressing and undressing into these suits he had brought, they were clean and freshly pressed. I made the inquiry as to whether he would miss these suits or not, and he charismatically said no, that they were going towards a fine cause, which according to him, was showing that no good Cybil what for. And all the while the tailor was cold and blank-faced. I do not get the impression that he was very keen on fitting a peasant from the slums. Nevertheless, he was precise in his measurements. Meanwhile, Barnard continued to assure me that this man knows his work and would be done in no time at all.

After that unpleasant experience of standing about and having an old man tug at my clothing, we continued off, down the street about 2 blocks to a store that instead of suits, featured hats in the window. I regretfully do not know the name of this store, but it was very well stocked with tophats placed in rows at the right side, and homburgs to the left. Then about the store was as well display shelves stocked with caps and other sorts of warmer hats. And, unlike the previous shop, this clerk was young and more finely dressed. He had upon his lip a thin mustache that must have been trimmed that morning to look so clean.

I cannot say much on this store other than the fact that the hat I was fitted into was of the finest silk, and fit most comfortably about my head.

The barber was a fine old man, kind enough to kindle conversation whilst he worked. And according to Barnard, “Sharper with shears than shears themselves”. My hair, whereas before was an unbridled mess of curls and grease, was soon fashioned into something more presentable. Twas cut around the ears and along the edge of my collar, and away from my forehead. My face was also shaved as closely as possible

So following this excursion in the garment district, he had his carriage brought round and we left this city, the first time I had in years. It was not a long ride, perhaps fifteen minutes before we reached a sprawling meadow. The air was entirely fresh, not a hint of smoke, the skies were clear, and the only thing I heard was the horses' heavy hooves and the wheels on the gravel. I’ll describe the estate in short. It is incredibly large, plenty of land owned, and much of it is owed to farmland. That was when I had the thought, wealthy folks own land that could be used to house thousands, however, the expressed intent of owning it is specifically to keep people away from it. I thought to myself of how selfish that was, but then, I thought I was in no place to judge considering a man will do with what he owns whatever he intends to.

Coming upon a hill I saw his manor for the first time. It was sprawling, larger than I had ever seen. It seemed to be an older fashion, more akin to a castle than a home. In the front was a ginormous set of doors with an equal amount of windows on each side, and on the second floor was a balcony supported by pillars that shaded the front door. And on the third floor, simply more windows.

I shall rush to finish this story in my allotted time. Although I could go on for hours about how the servants acted towards me, which was with some familiarity, perhaps as a member of the working class they could relate to me and I to them, though it would seem to me that many of them were envious of my position. Or perhaps I could describe the moment the clothes were delivered to the palace, at which point Barnard practically made me dress and undress repeatedly to make sure they all had been perfectly fitted and no mistakes were made. All the while he would make small comments on which I should wear when; an off-white frock for sunny days, a royal blue one for cloudy days, and on days when it rained, according to him, why go out at all.

All this of course, along with the lessons with which I would learn. I must admit, they made me quite frustrated. “Why must food be so complicated?” I would ask. And I still hold the opinion that it is ridiculous to put such splendorous food in front of someone and ask them to pay attention to which fork they used, or when they sipped their wine.

I had made little progress, the gala was to be hosted within five days, and I am suffice to say that all I had to go from was the dapper clothes on my back and a few notes on what to call old ladies depending on who they married. When one day, a madam came to the house and I was introduced to Lady Adelaide. She was kind and warm, her hair flowed upwards into a uniquely braided style and she was much to look at. I soon surmised in conversation that she was unmarried and her father who owned a large estate, not larger than this, however large enough to come into close competition with, was looking for a suitable gentleman to marry her. She had described a certain gentleman that her father wished her to marry to me to be a man of ugly soul, named Cybil.

Remember what I had told you before, my objective to marry a lovely lady and secure a fortune. Believe you me, it was not long before I had gotten her alone, and began flirting with her, attempting to make her fall in love with me as I was with her. However, she saw through my measly disguise, she soon knew who I really was, a poor man from a poor town.

And how I fell in love with her even more after I had explained my situation to her. She showed compassion, and utmost fervor to help me in my endeavor. She was of great assistance, I truly feel that without her, this would not be possible.

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The gala took place on a warm night, exactly a fortnight since our first meeting, and the night went as such.

The guests arrived, including some barons and baronesses, dukes and duchesses, lords and ladies, what have you. I believe the tenth guest to arrive was Lord Cybil himself. Lord Barnard was the first to approach him. To which Cybil said unto him, “Where’s your test subject”. Barnard told him that I was about the place, chatting and introducing myself, and that he would see me soon enough. As the place became more crowded I suddenly found myself under assault from people asking who exactly I was, since they had never seen me before. In a worry I blurted that I was Lord Barnard’s cousin, Lord Howard. This story they seemed to accept, and after making up a great deal of a story to appease the curious minds of my assailants, I found myself growing flustered and smothered. Which is when I felt the touch of a silk glove against the back of my hand. Twas Lady Adelaide approaching to take my arm and drag me away from that horrid display of thinly veiled lies.

She wanted to let me know that Cybil had arrived and was looking around the reception for my likeness. I elected to see if Cybil would in fact recognize me through this charade, so I decided to approach him first. After my introduction, he began speaking of how the other guests had spoken highly of me. This, I decided, would be a fantastic time to have Barnard come over, where I then asked him a question.

“Say, Barnard”

“Yes Howard?”

“Wouldn’t you say I’ve undergone a fantastic transformation as of recently?”

“Oh yes, Howard I would. Wouldn’t you agree, Cybil?”

I won’t speak much on Cybil’s reaction, for it was simply a look of stun and shock, and half anger, with frustration sprinkled in. I could tell anger especially, because all through the meal, I could not escape his gaze. After Adelaide had seen the fruits of her endeavor, she was infinitely pleased with the result. As for our relationship, I should rather save that story for another day.

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