The last ball of summer always yields a certain amount of magic, but tonight’s ball seems somehow special. We authoresses have pulled ourselves away for a moment, and up to the newly discovered (and possibly newly created, one never knows with this house) balcony that overlooks the ballroom. Away from heroes and heroines, guests and their creations, RITAs, baby showers, and recent vacations to talk about what is REALLY important.
Namely, the Cabal. And how we have brought them to heel, exactly as planned.
“We did it,” Katharine grins.
“We certainly did,” Sarah agrees.
It was really quite simple. All we did was invite the cabal to the ball, and then invite the ladies that it had been decided would be the best possible matches for them.
We look down on the ball, the swirling masses, and revel in our moment of glory.
“Look, there is Lord Henry Markham.” I say. “Lady Louisa Finnerty seems to be talking his ear off.”
“Perhaps she is reciting her poetry to him. Either way he seems to enjoy it.” Lauren muses. “And there are the twins… Lord Avenal and Lord George Barrett.”
“Dancing in time with Jane Church and… hmm, where’s the other one? Oh, there he is… peering at Jane Church from afar.” We all frown a little at that one. Who knows what’s going to happen there? Either way, both men are caught – carefree bachelors no longer.
“And of course, Lord Geoffrey Crane,” Tessa smiles with triumph. “Verity Castle, his childhood friend has him wrapped around her little finger.”
“And just in time, too.” Miranda raises her glass. “Seeing as it is nearly the end of summer, and the end of the Season proper.”
“True,” I muse. “But then again there is always the post-Season. The pre-Little Season. The Little Season. The post-Little Season. The pre-”
Miranda makes a hemming noise in her throat. I stop talking, and thereby stop ruining the moment.
“Can we all not just bask in our accomplishments?” Miranda admonishes.
“Indeed.” I agree, raising my glass of champagne. “To us, and our machinations.”
We are all just about to clink glasses, when a sharp voice interrupts.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Lady B stands behind us, her brow thunderous, the feather in her turban angled angrily, Albert on her shoulder mimicking her expression.
All seven authoresses merely blink in response.
“What about Monty?” she finally cries, pointing to the party down below. “Where is his heroine?
We all look over the railing to the dancers on the ballroom floor. There in the midst of it all is Monty, weaving around the couples like an artful dodger. Fitting, considering he dodged his way around getting paired up this season, by offering up his friends.
“Oh dear.” I sigh. “It seems we still have some work to do.”
This Ball is the last hurrah of summer in the Ballroom! (Although there is still post-Season, pre-Little Season, etc.) What is your favorite thing to do end of summer? Oh, and also, we will take any and all suggestions for what to do with Monty, that sneaky rascal.