Chance Encounter of a Young Lady

Lydia Ashbrook had been anticipating the Russell's ball for the entire month. However, when the day arrived, Lydia simply refused to go.

At least, she would like to refuse if her parents weren’t so stubborn about insisting she attend.

“It’s not fair, Hannah. How can they do this to me?”

Hannah ran her fingers through her sister’s silky brown hair, searching for hidden tangles before fashioning it into an elegant twist.

“Complaining is pointless, Lydia. We already told the Russells that we will be attending, and you would waste the dress Mother had custom-made for you.”

Lydia tugged at her bodice with a disgruntled expression.

“It wasn’t even the dress I wanted. This one is so tight that I’m afraid I might suffocate to death. I won’t even be able to eat anything without bursting at the seams, and people will gossip about the girl whose dress was shredded to pieces after eating a single biscuit.”

Hannah flicked Lydia’s head.

“That’s ridiculous, Lydia. This cut is the latest fashion, and it fits your figure wonderfully. Even if it were unflattering in any way, few people would be rude enough to comment.”

“Then,” Lydia said, “I will be the unlucky exception who speaks to every one of those ‘few people.’”

Hannah sighed as she pinned a curl into place.

“Why are you so against attending? The ball is all you’ve been able to talk about the whole month, but I practically had to drag you to your room to help you get ready.”

Lydia glared at her reflection in the mirror.

“It’s that accursed Mr. Abbott. He still insists on sending me love letters and inquiring after my health. If I go to the ball, there will be no way to avoid dancing with him. It will be a nightmare!”

Hannah held back an exasperated sigh. Her sister had always been very headstrong and this wasn’t the first time she had brought up a similar topic.

“Considering you have already rejected three other young men in the past six months, I don’t see why one more should bother you.”

“This one is particularly persistent, Hannah. He’s the son of a minister, and you know how church men can be. He won’t give up, no matter how many times I refuse him.”

Lydia buried her forehead in her hands.

“If I dance with him tonight, who knows if he’ll ever leave me alone again? Mother and Father will force me to marry him, and I’ll be doomed to a life of dull sermons and unromantic poems.”

Struck with inspiration, Lydia sprung up from her seat, causing Hannah to let out a sound of disapproval as the curl she was working with fell out of place.

“I know,” said Lydia, turning to face her sister. “You can fill my dance card for the evening. If every space is full, then all the Mr. Abbotts and Mr. Thompsons and Mr. Crawfords won’t even have a chance to ask me to dance. Please, Hannah? It would mean the world to me.”

Rolling her eyes, Hannah turned Lydia around and forced her to sit down.

“You got yourself into this mess, and now you must pay the consequences. Dancing with a man does not mean you are immediately engaged to him. You are going to that ball, whether you like it or not.”

Lydia held back tears as her sister tugged on her hair harder than usual, dreading what was to come.

***

Lydia stood by a refreshment table filled with trays of spice biscuits, raspberry tartlets, and iced punch that glittered like a fountain of multi-colored jewels. Her stomach growled, but she was too nervous to eat anything. A potential suitor could strut over at any moment to sweep her off her feet in some quadrille or reel, and she had to stay alert in case anyone so much as glanced her way.

Lydia played with the collar of her lavender silk dress, becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the night dragged on. The dress really was too tight, and she couldn’t believe her mother had allowed her out in public in such a thing.

If only Hannah hadn’t abandoned me, she thought. She left me to dance with the dashing Mr. Campbell. In my opinion, he’s the only decent young man at this ball tonight.

Lydia felt a light tap on her shoulder. Startled, she turned around. She instantly regretted acknowledging the person behind her. 

Of course it was him. Who else could it be than Mr. Abbott, the man who had plagued her every waking hour since they had met?

“Good evening, Miss Ashbrook.”

“Good evening, Mr. Abbott,” said Lydia, holding back a grimace. 

“I assumed you would already be out on the dance floor with your card full, but it seems luck is on my side tonight. Will you join me, Miss Ashbrook?”

Mr. Abbott offered his hand, an arrogant smile stretching across his face. His question was more of a command than a polite invitation.

“Oh…I…”

Lydia was at a loss for words, unable to think of an excuse to satisfy the stubborn man in front of her. Would she have to resign herself to her fate and spend the night in that nuisance’s arms?

“You see, Mr. Abbott, I…”

“Excuse me, sir, but this fine lady has already agreed to dance with me. You will have to excuse us. I wish you luck in finding another partner for the evening.”

Lydia felt a gloved hand wrap around her elbow and pull her toward the other room. She couldn’t help but feel pleased as she glanced back at the shocked expression on Mr. Abbott’s face. However, when she looked around to discover the identity of her rescuer, it was her turn to be surprised.

It was a young woman. Her honey-colored curls were pulled into an elaborate hairdo that complimented her blue silk dress. Her face was drawn into an expression of mild annoyance as she shoved her way through the sea of people.

“Honestly,” she muttered. “Some men don’t know when their company is unwanted.”

She turned around and flashed Lydia a small smile.

“I hope you don’t mind, my dear, but I can’t stand to see a fellow lady in distress at the hands of the patriarchy.”

The girl’s beauty was stunning. Lydia felt a slight blush rise in her cheeks and stammered over her words.

“Oh. Thank you. I am in your debt.”

The mystery girl grabbed Lydia’s hands, her expression turning mischievous.

“If you consider yourself in my debt, will you share a dance with me? After all, we wouldn’t want to be dishonest with that fellow over there.”

Lydia agreed without thinking, and the two girls stepped through the door into the next room.

Lydia had never been asked to dance by a lady at one of these events. Many men invited her and she would often join Hannah in a lively jig, but the idea of an unfamiliar woman choosing her as a partner was a new concept.

The current number was nearing its end, so the two girls waited patiently on the edge of the room. Lydia turned towards her new acquaintance.

“While we wait, may I ask the name of my savior? I’m Lydia Ashbrook.”

The other girl nodded.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Ashbrook. My name is Cecelia Beauchamp.”

Lydia blushed deeper at the sight of Cecelia’s affectionate gaze, and she quickly became preoccupied with examining an elderly woman’s pearl necklace.

“Thank you again, Miss Beauchamp. I’m afraid that if you did not arrive when you did, I would have had to endure an entire evening of dull recounts of sermons and the current selling price of potatoes.”

Cecelia’s laughter came out as an unladylike snort. Lydia found it rather charming.

“That sounds horrible, my dear. I’m glad I could save you from such a fate.”

Cecelia offered her hand as the musicians played the first notes of an English Country Dance.

“Will you join me, Miss Ashbrook?”

Smiling, Lydia nodded, and the two girls swept onto the dance floor.

Lydia was so captivated by Cecelia's charm that she didn’t notice the odd looks the other couples were giving them. The girls only stared into each other’s eyes, oblivious to the world around them.

The steps were lively, and the couples around the room clapped as they cheered the dancers on. Lydia, who had always considered herself clumsy, tripped over the hem of her skirt a few times, but Cecelia’s movements were flawless. She was as nimble as a fairy in a mushroom ring and had the looks to match. Lydia was surprised that she didn’t have men flocking to her from every side.

Cecelia led Lydia through each step with more experience than any man had ever shown her. The girls wove in and out of the line of couples, giggling when they nearly crashed into a wandering arm or stepped on a gentleman’s shoe. This was the first time in years that Lydia had felt so free from society’s expectations of a woman of her standing. 

Out of breath and grinning broadly, the two girls fell into each other’s arms.

“Let’s go this way,” said Cecelia, pulling her dance partner towards the door to the garden. Lydia could hear her wild heartbeat echoing in her mind.

The cool night air carried the scent of the rose garden their way, and the two girls sat on a stone bench covered in intricate carvings of violets. They were silent, neither one wanting to make the first move. Finally, Lydia spoke.

“Miss Beauchamp, may I call you Cecelia? We only just met, but I feel as if I have already known you for a lifetime.”

“Of course. I much prefer Cecelia to this stuffy ‘Miss Beauchamp’ nonsense. May I call you Lydia as well?”

“Yes. I am only called ‘Miss Ashbrook’ by people I find barely tolerable, and you are far from falling into that category.”

Cecelia leaned on her hands and contemplated the stars twinkling above.

“What a beautiful night. One free from old-fashioned men and sniveling nobles’ sons.”

“Yes,” Lydia agreed. “Sometimes I wish I never had to speak to a man again. They’re all so intolerable. It would be much simpler if I could fall in love with a woman, wouldn’t it?”

“What makes you think you can’t?”

Lydia stared at the other girl.

“What?”

“I’m saying that falling in love with a man is not your only option. I learned long ago that I much prefer the fairer sex to anything these men can offer.”

Lydia was too stunned to speak. Was Cecelia implying that she would rather wed a woman? Was such a thing even possible?

“I don’t know what to say.”

“What is there to say?” Cecelia raised an eyebrow. “If you like men, fall for a man. If you like women, fall for a woman. It’s simple.”

Cecelia suddenly brought Lydia’s hand to her lips and gently kissed it.

“You must agree with me, my dear.”

Lydia’s cheeks were bright red, but she didn’t pull her hand away.

“I…I don’t know. I never considered it before.”

Cecelia giggled and softly placed Lydia’s hand back on the bench.

“I hope you’ll consider it, as I find you fascinating. Your beauty rivals that of the stars above, and your personality is even lovelier. For now, I am content to be your friend and admire you from afar.”

Even the men Lydia had come across were not nearly this forward. With Cecelia, she didn’t mind.

“This is all a bit sudden, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you my answer right away. However, I also find you quite fascinating. Until I understand my heart, it would be my pleasure to become better acquainted with you, Cecelia.”

Cecelia gazed fondly into Lydia’s emerald eyes.

“The pleasure is mine, my dear.”

The girls spent the rest of the evening in deep conversation, discussing everything from the uncomfortable nature of the latest style of dresses to the interesting novels they had been reading. They were hesitant to part at the end of the ball, but they promised to meet up again at the marketplace the next week.

Lydia smiled softly as she slid into her family’s carriage. Her mother pestered her with questions about whether or not she had finally found a rich young man to court, but she made no comment.

Cecelia had awoken something within her, although she didn’t quite know what it was. However, she did know that if she had refused to attend the ball, she would never have met this girl with hair as fine as the goddess Aphrodite’s and a mind filled with unconventional ideas.

How strange that a single conversation can completely change the direction of your life.