By Wit & Whitby - The British Isles

In the Name of Charity - Christmas Ball

Wed, 31 Dec 2025 14:01:35 +0000

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.

The Dinner Party at Briggswath Hall

Wed, 24 Sep 2025 19:22:40 +0000

Polite chatter filled the drawing room of Briggswath Hall. With only a few red sofa’s and salon chairs, a few small tables, and a rosewood grand piano in the corner, the room was under-furnished compared to most drawing rooms. But Lady Selby abhorred the vulgar oriental fans, vases and screens, gilded mirros, drapes and tapestries, dried flowers, china, photographs and other paraphernalia that cluttered the drawing rooms of insecure, young brides in lesser homes.

That was not to say that the room was modest. Rather, it’s timeless elegance resulted from the excellent state of the thick carpet; from the intricate details – lions, sphinxes, roses, letters – hidden here and there in corners of the oak panelling around the walls; from centuries of ancestry shown in a few portraits on the walls – bonnets and wigs and armour and all; from the high, neoclassical ceiling with its ornamental relief and painted pantheon.

Lady Selby moved around the room with matching grace, greeting and pairing her guests. Her attire was rather muted for a formal dinner, her dress slightly old fashioned, though made by one of the best dressmakers in Paris, and her jewels modest. But then again, the guests were nothing special: locals with little to recommend themselves in terms of title, rank or connection, but whose company she enjoyed – and also a few whose company she did not enjoy, but whom she could not overlook without giving offense. Whitby wasn’t Mayfair.

She approached her latest arrival with a reserved smile. Mr. Du Pond was a very recent addition to her social circle. She could not decide whether she liked him. But she found that she liked his existence in Whitby’s highest echelons. He was an outsider as an American, as a black man, and as someone who had taken Whitby’s polite society by storm. It seemed to her that only a few weeks ago, no one had ever heard of ‘Frank Du Pont’, and then overnight she had heard his name on every set of lips and he was at every social gathering. His manners were certainly pleasing, but something about them made her suspect that he was hiding something. She couldn’t quite pin it down. She mistrusted him. But she enjoyed his company all the more for that. He was a puzzle and she was up for the challenge. She delighted in the way he had shaken up Whitby’s sleepy society and she surmised that there were interesting developments ahead. “Ah, Mr. Du Pont,” she greeted. “How do you do?”

The Lessons Begin

Sun, 13 Jul 2025 14:47:34 +0000

It was a good thing that Catherine had a project to occupy her. Her mother, driven to despair by grey skies, cold winds and a lack of interesting society, had gone to stay with family in Brussels and had taken Catherine’s older sister, Diana, with her. Catherine herself was deemed too frail to travel, much to her chagrin. She was not particularly close to her siblings, but with all of them away in Brussels or at school or university, and with only the servants and occasionally her father for company, Saltwick View felt lonelier than ever, even after a only few days. They would not be back until Christmas.

She took the trouble of dressing for dinner even when her father was out, just so that Sarah would have to keep her company for longer. And then she would fuss more excessively than usual.

“Really, Miss Catherine. There’s nobody there to judge you.”

“There’s the servants.”

“Why don’t I bring you a tray in your room? You should not trouble yourself too much, remember? Anyway, you’ll be far more comfortable here than down in that dining room by yourself.”

Ignoring the suggestion and studying her own reflection critically: “I don’t think you parted my hair evenly, see?” Her index finger drawing a line from her nose, over her forehead and stopping a millimetre to the left from where her hair was parted.

And, exasperated, Sarah would start her work over. It wasn’t only Catherine who breathed a sigh of relief when Thursday night came.

A disgruntled Jared had picked Ellie up from Whitby. He had given her a cynical glance that might have been missed in the under the flickering light of the street lanterns, but other than that, he kept his misgivings to himself, along with any other conversation. Ellie was once again brought around the house, but once inside she was led into one of the main corridors and shown to the parlour.

Catherine was already there, talking to a dark haired, middle aged woman in a fashionable lilac dress. She looked up when Ellie entered.

“There you are, Ellie. I hope the rain wasn’t too bad? Miss Bellini, may I present Miss Eleanor Russell? Ellie, Miss Bellini is my sister’s singing teacher.”

I take thee

Sat, 15 Jul 2023 19:22:45 +0000

Gretna Greene, Scotland

Iris was nervous as she peered at herself in the mirror provided to her by the inn. While he was out making whatever last preparations that needed to be made, a chapel and priest and such, she was just dressed in her elegant gown. It wasn't white, she did not need a white gown this time since this would be the second time she'd walked down the aisle. The gown she wore was a deep blue color that made her features pop.

She'd had help from one of the maids after using the last of the pay she had received from wet-nursing, her bright locks arranged in an elegant coif and curls dangling on either side of her face. She pressed her hand to her belly and took a deep breath before she headed down to the common room to get some tea in order to calm her nerves.

Some admiring glances were cast in her direction, for she was a pretty picture to behold. She ignored them for the most part, focused on the fact that she was about to become Jamie's wife any time now.

Smooth Sailing

Mon, 19 Jun 2023 20:29:21 +0000

Sunday afternoon in the Garrow household, the Lord's day. Befitting that divine example, no work was done rather the Garrow family gathered around fresh pots of tea and plates of light sandwiches to acquaint eachother with the recent events in their respectable lives. The sitting room was modest in size, but decorated in rich colours and warm wood furnitures. The loudest noise, at present, was the clock, dutifully chiming it's constant orbit around the dial.

Norman felt compelled to fill the silence with a subject he was usually much taken with. Boats. "So, I hear Whitby Shipping is purchasing a one-thousand tonner from Rottedam for a new route."

"It'll sink. The best ships are from Haarland and Wolfe, every one knows that."

"Well, anyway, they're also expanding their rolls. I was thinking of signing on,"

A snort of derision erupted from behind the fully extended broadsheet newspaper. "You, in a boat? Nonsense Norman, you got sea sick in the bath tub!" The paper ruffled only slightly.

"I don't get seasick in bathtubs anymore, father!" Norman replied, fully aware of what he had been doing in bathtubs of late. "The would be for office staff. Pay, supplies, and the like."

"Oh you did ever so love your darling little boats." a cheery female voice floated across the room.

Finding Pippa

Wed, 08 Mar 2023 17:40:28 +0000

Quote: Antisemitism

Think and Thank
Cooper
Chapter I
A Brother in Need

"Give it to the Jew!"
A fair haired lad stood confronted by a score or more of excited boys, who jeered and tormented him with that persistent brutality which comes of persecution. He was not "one of them," else surely he would have found some defender against their unfair attacks.
His only advantage lay in the fact that his back was to the wall; but with so many enemies, this proved only a small protection.

Tobi sat curled up as best as the set would allow her considering they had boarded the train not fifteen minutes prior and they had yet to start moving. She wasn't particularly fond of this method of travel, but it beat the boat ride over from the states. She sighed as she tried to concentrate on the book whilst hearing the cry of a newborn somewhere in the same car. She closed the book after carefully putting a piece of scrap paper, one that she had torn from school work that had already been graded and such.

She looked out the window as she felt the train sort of jerk to a start, slowly chugging along at first and then gaining speed. She couldn't help but to think about what must be going through her best friend's mind. Pippa had not deserved her fate, the bank had seized her assets and everything in the wake of the fire that took the lives of both family and hired help alike... it'd been a devastating blow to many people. She missed Pippa dearly, hoped that she was still intact after everything that had happened. Her own father, Wit, had done his best to help unfreeze the remaining estate since it rightfully belonged to Pippa now.

The good news was that she, if she yet lived, would be able to take care of her own needs. The bad news was that the property where the house stood was still being looked into by the local law until a later date, though it would not be too long, according to Wit's words she'd overheard to the policeman. She knew her father and Pippa's had also been best friends in the years since she'd met her at finishing school. She remembered the first encounter their parents had to one another, and it was as if they had been friends for many years. It'd been during the first year of school when parents and family came to visit and check in on the progress of their daughters.

Pippa's father had been such a kind person, as had his wife and son. She only hoped that Pippa was alright at this point, if someone had been there to cushion the blow.

She tucked her small book into her bag and bit into her lip, deep in thought.