“Alice, are you allowed to wear your hair like that!?” exclaimed Eleanor.

“You forget that your sister Alice is officially a woman now; when you are eighteen you may
wear your hair in the latest fashion as well,” said Mother, gliding into the room. She looked as
young and elegant as ever with her pale blue dress and never graying hair. “ Eleanor, that
necklace is atrocious. Go change it at once, and hurry up or we will be late!”

Eleanor dashed up the stairs to her room. “Young ladies never run even when they are late,”
called her mother. Eleanor breathed out heavily and flared her nostrils, “a most ugly and unlady-
like habit,” she could hear her Mother saying in her head. She quickly opened her expensive
jewelry box (a birthday present from Sweden last year) and picked out a necklace she was sure
Mother would approve of and started to run back downstairs but then, remembering Mother’s
chiding, attempted to glide down the stairs and was pretty successful. She only stumbled once.

Upon reaching the bottom, the new French maid Cecile, similar to Eleanor in age, gave
Eleanor her wrap and purse as she went out the door.

Cecile curtsied and said, “Have a good day madamosielle.”

Eleanor offered her a weak smile and quickly hurried off to the carriage.



That evening Eleanor reflected on the day's events. Tea had gone relatively well, except for
the fact that she had mispronounced some of her French to Lady Marie, and had accidentally
called her hair green instead of asking after her ill father. And when Henri the butler (there were
too many beautiful young ladies and too few single men for her to be considered for escortment)
was taking her into the dining room she tripped on the Persian rug amidst giggles from her not-
so-sensitive peers and a glare from her not-so-sensitive mother. Eleanor sighed. She seemed to
be messing up a lot lately. Would she ever get this “being an elegant young lady” thing
right?
“Oh well,” she thought, “no use worrying about it.”
“Eleanor why is your candle still burning? You need to be up early tomorrow to help with
preparations for our Thanksgiving party.”
“Yes Mother.” She blew on the wick and was surrounded in darkness.




The following day consisted of decorating the house for the party. This mainly consisted of
her mother and older sister telling the maids where to put this and that. Whenever Eleanor tried
chipping in with her own input, she was always shut down. Her ideas were not good enough. She
felt discouraged. “I wish I had someone I could talk to about all this,” she thought to herself.

Just then Cecile walked into the room carrying a plate of tea and scones. Alice’s little dog
Antione suddenly scurried out from under the chair and ran in front of Cecile sending both the
plate and Cecile flying. Tea and scones were everywhere, including on Mother’s new dress.

“Je suis de solee, madame. I am so so sorry!” said Cecile, starting to choke up.

I could see Mother’s anger rising. Then almost suddenly, as if she had Divine help, she
relaxed.


“Je te pardonne. I forgive you Cecile. Please call one of the other maids to help you clean it
up. And girls, I think we have done enough decorating for now.”

She walked over to the chair and pulled down on a cord hanging from the ceiling, summoning
Mrs. Murphey, the housekeeper.

“You rang m’lady?”

“Yes Mrs. Murphey, please tell cook that we would like our tea and scones brought out to the
garden,” said Mother.

“Yes m’lady,” replied Mrs. Murphey. She curtsied and went to go summon the cook.

“Thank you Madam,” said Cecile meekly.

“Not at all Cecile, not at all.”

The three women of the house exited the room and walked out into the garden for tea.

“Oh I can not wait until the Thanksgiving party tomorrow night!” exclaimed Alice.

“I can,” mumbled Eleanor.

“Eleanor I want you to be on your best behavior tomorrow night, there will be a lot of
important people there and we must make a good impression,” said Mother. “And it will not hurt
for you to impress the young men as well. You are almost ready to begin courting you know.”

“Yes Mother,” said Eleanor




The big day of the party was finally here. The house was filled with hair being done, rouge
being applied and dresses and jewelry being debated over and eventually, decided upon. Around
seven that evening, the first guests began to arrive. By eight¬-thirty, the party was bustling with
excitement. Eleanor had already danced with a few men, but none had really caught her fancy.
Typically, men did not interest her a whole lot. That was true tonight, except for one young man
who she was extremely curious about; The Duke of Kensignton. Eleanor had heard girls
whispering and giggling about him for months and mothers across the board all wanted their
daughters to become the latest Duchess.

Eleanor had not payed much attention to their talk before, but now as she saw him standing
there looking beautiful and majestic in the candlelight surrounded by his admirers, she
understood why every girl wanted to be his bride.

“Eleanor, I want you to come meet the Duke of Kensignton.” Eleanor jumped, startled, she
had not seen her mother coming over to her from across the room. She started to protest but her
mother hushed her and insisted she obey. Eleanor meekly complied.

“Charles, said her mother as they approached the Duke, I want you to meet my youngest
daughter Eleanor.” He bowed. She curtsied back.

“Would you like to dance?”

Eleanor gasped, “Is he talking to me? Oh wait, he is!” She reached for his outstretched hand
and let him guide her onto the dance floor.

The orchestra started to play the minuet. “Oh no! she gasped.”

“What, is something wrong?” asked Charles.

“Oh nothing,” said Eleanor, blushing. She had been sick the whole week the dance instructor
had taught this dance. She fumbled through the beginning, managing not to do too terribly. Then
came the end of the dance. She had heard it was the most difficult part. She felt dizzy. She did
not know which direction to go. “What should I do? I will just go this way,” Eleanor thought to
herself.

The result was disastrous. She collided with another dancer who was going her way and
before she knew it both of them had fallen into the orchestra upsetting the cello and making the
violinists topple onto the floor. The room became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Eleanor
was mortified.

Her mother walked over. “Go upstairs to your room Eleanor and do not come down until
tomorrow morning,” She whispered tensely.

She also said to Cecile who was standing nearby, “Go and help her,” Cecile curtsied.

With knocking knees and trembling hands, Eleanor stood up and left the room amid whispers
and stares.

As she exited she could hear the party coming back to life. She ran upstairs not caring what
her Mother said about young ladies running and slammed the door.

A few moments later she heard a light knock. “Mademoiselle, may I come in and help you
with your hair?”

“Go away Cecile.”

“Please Miss Eleanor, it will only take a few minutes.”

“Fine,” said Eleanor.

Cecile came in and Eleanor sat down in front of the mirror. As Cecile started undoing
Eleanor’s hair she said, “You know mademoiselle, it is probably none of my business, but I just
wanted to tell you that I think you are becoming a very great Lady.”

“That is not what Mother thinks.”

“How do you know? You do not see it, but she loves you very much and you are so blessed to
have her. My mother died when I was very young, I hardly knew her. You should be more
grateful for her.”

“Maybe you are right. Thanks Cecile.”

“You are welcome Miss Eleanor. And I’m cluzty too, so in that you are not alone!”

Eleanor smiled.




The next morning Eleanor got up early and went outside to the garden and saw her mother
sitting in a chair. She started to turn away but her Mother sensed her and called her over to her.

“Eleanor, I am so sorry for the way I have acted these past few weeks. I have been much too
hard on you.”

“It’s okay Mother.”
“No really, I am so so sorry! I hope I have not damaged your self confidence in any regard.
You are truly beautiful and special and I love you very much. And do not worry about last night,
when I was your age I accidentally spilled red wine on the Queen’s first cousin! And he was
wearing a white shirt!”

“Really, you Mother?”

“Yes, really me.”

They both burst into laughter, something she had not seen her Mother do for a long time. Last
night after her conversation with Cecile she had eventually forgiven herself. Now she could
forgive her Mother as well. She smiled, knowing that things were going to be just fine.