Lord and Lady Swithmire request your presence at their home on Midsummer's Eve for a private masque.

It was going to be a magical night. The entire town was humming with excited tension as the day approached. The Swithmires were the richest family in the county and their balls were said to be spectacular. Every influential family was invited. Women flocked to the dress shops, requesting the latest fashions, and men laughed and smoked cigars together, eagerly discussing the upcoming event.

They spoke especially of the Dawes and the ________.

Lady Swithmire was said to be rather eccentric. She enjoyed being spontaneous and a little racy, but it was to be expected. She had married off all of her children, and there was little for a woman of advancing years to do after that was sorted out. But perhaps she had gone a little too far this time: she had invited both the Dawes and the _______, the greatest rivals in the county. There had been some disagreement in the ancient history of the two families, so distressing that they had become sworn enemies. Upon sighting a member of the rival family in the street, they would hurl insults at each other without any qualms. Their feud was wildly sensational, and therefore everyone in town was eager to watch the proceedings.

Many people postulated outcomes for the evening's spectacle between the two families, but no one would have guessed what really happened that night.

An irritated Alexander Graye stood chewing rather roughly on his jaw as it seemed a thousand hands jerked, tugged, and smoothed the fabric that covered his figure. Tonight would be the grand Swithmire party and seemed as if everyone still couldn't stop talking about how wondrous and magnificent it was sure to be. He was sick of it. One couldn't step an inch of the way outside their own doorway without hearing some one talk of it or the sure disaster inviting the two families. "Alex!" He released a breath he had been unconsciously holding as he glanced at his sister from the reflection the mirror before him casted, "are you listening?" A sharp agitated sigh slipped through his lips, "yes dearest Emma." He replied sarcastically by which she responded by rolling her eyes. "I'm serious." She almost hissed, "if you make another scene with them its really going to hurt our name. They might even throw you in prison this time." He growled in frustration, "Well then perhaps I shouldn't go." he stated flatly. Though he was entirely sincere it brought about the glow of his younger sister's smile, "Oh it'll be fun!" She chimed, finally rising from the floor to straighten a crease on his shirt, "I think so."

That was the way Emma worked, she could annoy him like no other but with just her smile and a cheerful word and any agitation she had caused him seemed to melt with his own smile. "I'm utterly thrilled you are excited dearest Emma but if I don't move soon I fear my legs will harden as they are." The siblings exchanged smiles and she nodded briefly, allowing him to go. "Thank goodness...." He thought to himself as he changed into more comfortable clothing and headed out into the street to stretch his legs.

(I intended this to be longer that it was but I'm leaving in like....ten or fifteen minutes.)

"Oh Hildegarde, it's perfect! Isn't it perfect?"

Theodosia Dawes stood enraptured in front of the mirror, twirling this way and that as she gazed at her reflection. But, of course, anyone who had the option of looking at Theodosia's image wouldn't pass up the chance. She was almost aggravatingly pretty, with large hazel eyes, a sweet rosy mouth, and perfectly arranged penny copper tresses.

Currently she was modeling the dress that her maid had picked out for the ball. It was very becoming on her, a deep pinkish burgundy that perfectly complemented her skin. The girl spun around in the mirror, admiring her beauty from every angle. When it appeared that she was satisfied, Hildegarde approached her and began tucking ribbons into her hair.

"You look very lovely, mistress." She said. Theodosia whirled to face her, face alight.

"Oh, do you think so, Hildegarde? This is going to be the most marvelous ball!" Theodosia bubbled. Every sentence she produced vibrated with energy, little spurts of excitement that stemmed from the girl's overflowing source of vitality. It was a wonder she didn't start glowing like a light bulb with all the pent-up energy that was crammed inside her.

"Yes, mistress. Remember what your father said, mistress. You're to watch out for those Grayes. Be mindful of your chaperon."

Theodosia scoffed and tossed her hair, which made Hildegarde have to arrange the ribbons for a second time. "Oh, fiddle dee dee. They won't give me any trouble. And I don't need Mrs. Cotter to watch me any more. I'm 18 years old! I can take care of myself now."

Hildegarde sighed and said nothing. She had known Theodosia since the girl was very small, and sometimes it was hard to deal with her. But Hildegarde put up with it, because she knew that underneath all the fussiness and spoiled exuberance Theodosia had a tender heart. Her charge was conceited and slightly annoying, yes, but there was a strong element of empathy in Theodosia's soul. It just took a little searching to see it underneath all the ignorance and chattiness.