Season of The Ring

I sat idly as Iritha, our handmaiden, braided my hair back. I’d become fairly excellent at twiddling my thumbs and looking as though not a single thought pierced my brain. It is what is expected of me, of course. I am the eldest of my sisters, merely eighteen and unwed. What an unglamorous picture to be seen. I cannot and will not listen to my sister's chatter in my ear for a second more about the list of unsuspecting, eligible bachelors, who would sooner marry in their own cousins than to someone with such high opinions. 

No, opinions just wouldn’t do for a woman. 

I stood slowly, turning my body in the mirror this way and that to ensure my dress is straightened and not snagged up a bit. I must look tidy and well put together, yet I cannot look like an uptight prude. It’s a fine line to be walked, and one I must walk well. With three younger sisters, my family would not bear the opinion of the public if one of them wed before their eldest. The gossip would surely spread. People would say that I’m undesirable, label me the lonely, social pariah. 

It was the only driving factor behind having my mother pull me into such a ridiculously puffy dress, paired with my auburn hair hanging loosely in curls. The only tameness to it were the two braids holding the curls together, like a net. It wasn’t quite warm enough outside to consider pinning the entire thing up, not when my sleeves were already hanging limp on my exposed shoulders. No, that would be entirely too much skin on display. 

I walked slowly toward the entrance of the Williamson ball, each step heavier than the last. The last ball of the summer and my last chance to lock down an engagement until the next season. The manor was extravagant, each column wrapped intricately in vines of tinsel, golden and green accents traipsed throughout the ballroom. 

“Hello, hello! Lovely to see you all!” Mrs. Williamson greeted, holding her gloved hand out toward my mother. My mother took it and smiled deeply. She had never been one to turn down a charade. “Elizabeth, you look lovely,” she said, her voice dripping with superiority as she spoke to me. I simply nodded before turning my back to her and finding my way across the room. I hung close to the wall, wishing I could dissolve into a flowery decoration and observe the night. It would turn out a few scandals that I would love to see. Each ball did at the Williamson’s.

I dipped my chin at a kind fellow I’d seen at a few balls throughout the summer season. We’d even danced at one or two. He’d never acted more interested in me than he was in the type of dress I was wearing. His will be a marriage of convenience, of course. 

Rounding the last pillar that shielded the dimly lit area I’d been hiding in, I came face to face with the one man I’d dreaded seeing here tonight. Of course, it would only be natural for the man to be in his own home. That gorgeous smile drawn across his face was just doing torturous things to my heart. 

“Ah, Lizzy. Nice to see you, again.” He took my hand in his own and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles, earning a snort from myself. “Ah, Jonathan, I wish I could say the same.” I moved to go around him but was stopped short by his broad shoulder jutting into my view. He ducked his face mere inches from mine before speaking again. His dark hair falling into those magnificent blue eyes. “Do you have room on your dance card for one more?” His brows lifted as he reached for the card strapped to my wrist with a flimsy piece of lace. 

I’d insisted that my mother leave it, but she said that when I’d found my husband, I’d want to have the dance card to show our many children one day. I’m not so certain she is my mother some days, especially when she talks about me as if I’m a stallion at an auction. 

“I see it’s empty. Run all your suitors off already, my dear Lizzy?” He snickered underneath his breath as he wrote his name over the entirety of the card, filling not only his one entitled slot, but all three of them. “Now, why would you go and take all of my dances, Sir Williamson?” His smile dropped a bit, he forgets I know how to taunt him just as he does me. 

Johnathan Williamson has been around for the entirety of my life. My father used to have business dealings with his. I always appreciated how genuine he seemed compared to his wife, the vapid doll she is. 

“Why do you hurt me, Elizabeth?” He said playfully, tucking his pen away in his black jacket. It paired well with his black slacks. I’d very seldom complimented Johnathan, but tonight, I could. If only to remind him that he is here to be seen, and not to be seen with me. “Johnathan, find yourself a beautiful damsel to whisk away. We both know your mother would sooner raze this ballroom to the ground than see you courting me the entire night.” 

He tilted his head back in laughter, one that was just as contagious as it was splendid. He’d only given me a glimpse of that laughter a few times before, when he’d gotten into the wine too heavily and spent the rest of the evening acting like a boy. It was almost a gift to see him like that. A gift his mother would rather keep private. 

“Forgive me, if I don’t care what my mother thinks of whom I spend my time with. There are far more trivial things for her to focus on tonight, anyways. Like those little enough to fit underneath the ropes tying off her parlor. Or who might have undone them at some point.” He shrugged his shoulders. I hid my grin behind my hand, acting as if I couldn’t see the ropes hanging loosely on the other side of the ballroom. 

“Jonathan!” I hissed, slapping his arm halfheartedly. He just smiled as he led me to the dance floor, hand in hand, as the choir began playing. 

I could do each move in my sleep. The movements being shoved down my throat for the last two years, step here and curtsy there. Never lead and always smile, even if your partner is stepping on your toes. Jonathan didn’t though. He was as well refined a gentleman on the dancefloor as he was childlike off of it. And, until recently, I’d never imagine what a life of being his bride might be like. 

Then, as quickly as our friendship began, a seed of curiosity sprouted. It’s been a year of calculated avoidance mixed with filling my dance card with nameless, faceless fools who only wanted to tell me about their family’s interest in trades and how well a marriage would benefit the both of us if they were to choose to wed me. The only gentleman that came close to earning a second dance with me, Harold Pendlegrass, left me utterly speechless after monologuing about his favorite author for the entirety of our conversation. 

As much as I would enjoy having more stimulating conversations than those of trade, his was lacking in the… well, the stimulating portion. 

As the music faded and signaled the end of the first formal dance of the night, the band started a riot of fiddles and played a tune that was meant for jumping and dancing like Irishmen. The tune was quite lovely, but after realizing that I stood with Johnathan’s body half pressed against my own, I excused myself.

 In this world, the feelings you have hold very little persuasion on who you are to marry, or even, who is willing to marry. 

I’d never let my friend carry the burden of having to break my heart. He will marry someone far closer to the throne than I. He will get all he wants and deserves out of life, including the many children his mother is so fond of mentioning. “My Jonathan will marry well, and breed well. I will have an armful of grands in the near future, mark my words!” The thought of it brought the contents of my stomach burning up my throat. 

I found my way through the maze of intricately decorated rooms. I knew them all. Stepping past the main dining hall, there was a small room on the right, tucked out of site. It had shelves and shelves of books. Each one was a sonnet of some sort, I’m sure. Jonathan’s father finds great pleasure in the words of each of these books. Vowing, one day, to write his own. 

“Are you alright?”

I nearly fainted as I spun, facing my intruder. I sighed in relief as my eyes landed on my friend. “You nearly put me in the grave!” I shrieked. He laughed as he stepped next to me. “The next dance will be starting soon, we’d better find our way to the dancefloor before your mother whips you for running from potential suitors,” he murmured, placing his hand on the small of my back. 

I sucked in a breath at the small contact. He’s never shied away from touching me, holding my hand or tickling my sides growing up, but this was different. It felt different. Everyone’s eyes landed on us, the pair of the hour it seemed. But that could never bother him.

“Jonathan, I appreciate you trying to save me from uncouth attempts at conversation, but you should really mingle more.” I tried to nudge him toward a group of females nearby, they were all taking turns turning and giggling as we walked by. They were sixteen, maybe, it was most likely their first season. That is the type of woman that Mrs. Williamson would love for her son to pick. The fewer seasons you’ve been through, the less undesirable you are deemed. This is my third season, not counting the season I spent in the countryside with my cousins. 

“Now, why would I want to go and bother with those petulant children. All of them will end up wed to one of Duke Erickson’s boys, I guarantee it.” I laughed easily, glancing over at Duke Erickson and his fleet of fresh-faced sons. I knew one of them to be nineteen, the bachelor of the group. My older brother said that he was told the duke’s eldest refused to settle down when he was able bodied, and willing… to make so many women happy for one night.

My mother forbade me from dancing with him. 

“So, you’re content with letting all of these eager, ring searching ladies think that you're courting me? Because that is the impression you’ve given by associating yourself with me for the entirety of the night.” I looped my arm through his as we got into position for the next dance. 

“And what is so wrong with that, Elizabeth?” He asked, smiling gently. The violins played softly, followed by the sound of everyone’s feet shuffling around the dance floor. I knew this well, but all I could hear was my own heartbeat, pounding at a treacherous rate in my ears. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, the tempo changed. Each female partner was to find another male, which meant this conversation was to be held. My response would have to wait. 

“Ah, I’ll cut in here!” Molly snickered, sliding between Jonathan and myself. 

Molly was one of the few people who I called a friend in this dreary town. I smiled at her softly before finding my way across the dance floor to a kind enough looking gentleman. We went through the movements, smiling at each other brightly before we parted and found our original partners again.  Molly skipped past me, leaning in and whispering for me to find her as soon as the dance was over. 

I couldn’t place the mildly amused look on Jonathan’s face but brushed it off as we finished the dance. “I have to find Molly. Grab some wine and meet me by the garden?” I proposed, grinning when he silently walked off toward the nearest kitchen maid. 

I glanced over the crowd quickly, spotting Molly’s tight, blonde curls on the other side of the room. I waltzed toward her, enjoying tonight far more than I should. Tonight was going to be about finding a husband. With my friend distracting me, I’d forgotten about my duty. 

I pulled on one of the bouncy curls, laughing when Molly spun around ready to pounce. “Make it quick, Jonathan’s waiting.” She smiled brightly in my direction but stared just over my shoulder. “I think… he’s going to propose to me!” She squealed. My mind started racing at the idea of it, my dearest friend engaged. “And, who has the great honor?” I asked, searching the crowd for the possibilities. 

“Don’t be silly, Lizzy. Jonathan, of course!” 

My blood ran cold at her words. The excitement that was humming just below the surface of my skin emerged as goosebumps spreading down my arms. How could she get such an idea from a single dance? “What do you mean, Molly? Why would you think Jonathan would be proposing to you? You’ve only had one dance.” 

I tried to hide the evidence of my emotions, tried and failed. She didn’t notice, too absorbed in her own impending marriage. “Well, he started posing weird questions about proposals and what a woman would like. This was our third time to dance together this season, you know. Not to mention, his mother loves my father. Well, his money. She’s said as much at dinner with him. That her boy would be lucky to end up with someone like me.” She squealed as she chatted on. 

I shook my head, trying to come up with any reason, any reason at all why she couldn’t marry him. “You… you can’t marry him, Molly. You don’t even know him.” Dread fell on her face as she finally looked at me.

“And why not? Has he already been betrothed to another?” She looked over my shoulder again. I turned and followed her line of site. Jonathan was standing next to my father, laughing about something he’d said. The image lit a fire in my soul. I’d found so much enjoyment in watching the two laugh throughout the years. To imagine him as a part of anyone else’s family, it was a cruel form of punishment. 

“No. No he has not.” She rambled on with questions as I turned fully and walked away from her. There was no sense in questioning her about it when the decision wasn’t hers, it was his. 

“Well, what are you two finding so amusing?” I asked upon approaching. My father quietened his laughter but kept his smile plastered across his face. “Just chatting. If you two are intending your usual walk in the garden, you’d better make haste. The next song dance will begin soon,” he waved us off, shewing us like flies. 

“Your father is quite observant,” Jonathan said, passing me a glass of wine. I sipped on it slowly, enjoying the variety of sweet flavors dancing over my tongue. “That he is.” I couldn’t find the words, nor the courage, to ask him about what Molly had said. So, I said nothing. We strolled through the rows of flowers, some reaching our hips in height. It always seemed so peaceful out here. 

“Elizabeth. I have to tell you something. It’s about my intentions, where tonight is supposed to go for me.” 

I met his gaze, frozen still by the icy blue staring back at me. I’m not ready for this conversation, not yet. 

“What makes your intentions any of my business, Mr. Williamson?” I query. He smiled, looking off past the marble statues for a moment. “You have to be such a minx, don’t you?” He muttered. Then, he finished his glass of wine and set it down beside us on the rocks, taking mine and doing the same before I could argue it. 

“My intentions are your business, Ms. Elizabeth, because my intentions are you.” 

The snappy response I was brewing died on my tongue. 

“Your intentions are what?” I asked, trying to slow the steadily rising beat of my heart. I could barely stand straight as he took my hand in his and met the ground with one of his knees. 

“My intentions, Lizzy, are to marry you. I have already asked your father for your hand, which he graciously gave. And now, I am asking you. Will you be my Lady Williamson?” 

The words were that of a dream, one that I’d never imagined coming true. “Do not say such things if you do not mean them to be serious, Jonathan.” 

“I’m being deadly serious, Lizzy. I adore you. Please, let me adore you for the rest of our lives. Don’t make me enter into a marriage with someone of my mother’s choosing,” We both laughed. “I am enraptured by you, Elizabeth. Your beauty, your humor, amongst other things. What do you say?” 

And it dawned on me suddenly, this moment is real. I’m not seeing with wishful eyes and hearing with wishful ears. 

“I am quite smitten with you, myself, Mr. Williamson.” I whispered. 

I let my gaze fall to the beautiful emerald as he slid it onto my trembling finger. I knew the piece came from his grandmother’s collection, just as I knew my mother would faint upon seeing it on my finger.

“Looks like you’re the lucky winner of my ring,” He teased. 

I simply smiled. 

“Lucky indeed.”