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+---- Thread: [Open] In the Name of Charity - Christmas Ball (/showthread.php?tid=1078)
In the Name of Charity - Christmas Ball - Catherine Ennington - 12-31-2025
If all went according to plan, guests driving up the long Park lane to Saltwick View Manor, high above town, would feel intimidated by their first view of the house. Tall, grey and symmetrical, with a belltower peeping out over the front roof, several tall chimneys, and turrets, and long colonnades running from either side of the house in a semi-circle around a smart circular driveway, complete with a fountain in the middle, the house might at first glance be mistaken for an ancient manor with later additions over time as fashions had changed. In fact, it was all new, purpose built for the Ennington family to impress their neighbours and evoke that great non-existent aristocratic ancestry.
A solemn porte-cochère allowed guests to exit their carriages and make their way inside untroubled by the capricious winter weather. Once inside, guests would find themselves in a stately marble reception hall, where a large double staircase led to a landing and balconies along the walls. There were two large oak doors on either side the hall, and an even grander open doorway between the double stairs. From it spilled a warm harmony of music and chatter. Liveried staff would relief guests of their coats and other burdens. There was a ticket table by the door to the ballroom, where Catherine had put Ellie on duty for the first half hour (though not before she had dressed the girl up ‘properly’ in a new dress and drilled her extensively on what to say and how to say it).
The ballroom itself was an even more majestic sight. With its checkered marble floor, high lacunar ceiling, gothic columns and arches, reliefs and statues along the wall, and two levels of tall windows on either side, it gave the impression of a small basilica – or at least it would have, had it not been desecrated with garish Christmas decorations. Velvety green and red banners draped the walls, while silver and golden slings, interspersed with holly and mistletoe, hung crisscross along the ceiling. The light from the two large chandeliers were dimmed and but along the walls over a hundred lamps burned merrily. Towards the back, an orchestra band played cheerful Christmas carols on a raised platform and there was a gigantic decorated Christmas tree in the corner. Well decked tables to the left offered champagne, mulled wine, lemonade, water and a range of Christmas appetizers, while liveried footmen walked around with trays to wait on those who would not help themselves.
Catherine had greeted most of the guests who had already arrived and was now looking around the room nervously, inspecting the result of her two months’ labour for any imperfections she had overlooked. This ball too had been a bid to impress - the first event she had organized, patronized by Lady Selby and Lord McPadraic of all people! It had to be perfect.
If only her mother could see what she had accomplished. But unfortunately, Isabella had caught the attention of some Belgian baron and so her mother and sister would remain in Brussels over Christmas. It had been a blow when Catherine got the letter, but her disappointment and anxiety had soon made way for resolve. It meant she would have to work even harder. Perhaps if this was a success, Lady Selby would finally start seeing her as the promising young lady she was and start inviting her for the right sort of parties and she would meet a future earl and then she could still outrank Isabella.
She stopped a passing footman. “That banner over there, by the third window, do you see it? It’s not right. The others have five folds; that one has six. Please see if you can fix it.”
“Yes, Miss.”
She turned inspect the room for other faults, mentally reprimanding herself for how she had slacked. How could she have overlooked such a massive mistake before! How embarrassing to have to have it fixed now that guests had already arrived!
It was because she had left too little time for the inspection. It had taken her six hours to get herself ready. Good thing they had started early. The lady’s maid had had to redo her hair eight times. But then, if only she had listened to Catherine’s instructions, she would have gotten the ringlets even the first time. Even then, Sarah was terrible at hair partings! Every time she started, Catherine had to stop her. Getting up close to the mirror, she would inspect the parting and decide that she was a few hairs off. And then they had wasted time arguing about the corset. Sarah had begged her not to tight lace and to remember what the doctor had said. She was thin enough without the additional damage. But Catherine would be flawless tonight. And so she had ordered Sarah to lace ‘properly’. She wore a gold silk dress covered with white Chantilly lace, a dark green waistband and an emerald choker. Sarah had powdered some colour on to her cheeks, for she did look very pale in this costume. But it was the most fashionable dress that shipped to Whitby. How she wished Whitby had a Liberty's or Harrods.
She began to walk around the room again with a well-studied gait: upright, elegant, breathless. She used her fan to wave some oxygen towards her face. She was absolutely dying, but Isabella couldn’t win.
RE: In the Name of Charity - Christmas Ball - Ellie Russell - 01-03-2026
Ellie’s hands, usually roughened by scrubbing and mending felt impossibly smooth as she felt the unfamiliar satin of the dress. Lady Catherine had chosen a gown of deep emerald green, a shade Ellie adored, now fastened tightly to her form. Devotees of fashion might condescend the girl for being out of style, but to Ellie, it was the finest dress she had worn.
Snippets of the many instructions from her benefactor, delivered with the precise, clipped tones of the upper classes, echoed in her ears: "Smile, Ellie... Nod thoughtfully.....Never interrupt. And for heaven's sake, don't shout." Ellie, caught between a flutter of nerves and a dizzying sense of wonder. Either that or it was her corset cutting off the air supply to her brain. If it was the latter, she would die pretty at least.
Ellie managed to steal glances inside the ballroom, rich emerald and crimson tapestries cascaded from the walls, as shimmering silver and gleaming gold festoons, interwoven with prickly holly and symbolic mistletoe, formed an intricate lattice above. The light from the grand twin chandeliers was subdued, yet along the perimeter, a multitude of lanterns blazed with a vibrant cheer. The air was a mixture of greenery, tobacco, and perfume. Her designated post at the ticket table felt both like a position of honor and a strangely exposed perch, a tiny island of ordinariness adrift in a sea of opulence.
She offered a soft smile to the arriving guests, her heart thumping a nervous rhythm against her ribs. Each passing face, some framed by jewels, others by smart hairstyles, felt like an indictment of her own simple origins, a reminder of the chasm that separated her from this glittering world. Though the less fortunate were invited tonight, the drunken fisherman's XI had yet to break down the front door. Still, even with only the rich, and the sort-of-rich in attendance, Ellie had a sense that for this one night, she was allowed to trespass, to breathe the same rarefied air as they, even if only as an observer.