| General Fiction posted November 19, 2021 |
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Sentence
Hourglass
by zanya
'I didn't wear the mask.'
Lady Elena pondered her actions from the night before at the Autumn masked ball. She giggled to herself as she mused how she escaped the attentions of some older suitors, thereby enabling her to flutter her twenty- year old eyelashes untrammelled, at whatsoever dashing, young man she wished.
Gently fanning her face, she lowered her lashes in a repeat performance from the night before.
Mama, Lady Ruby, insisted that she wear a diamond-studded mask at the annual event in Mormsby.
After all, such mask-wearing had been de rigueur for generations. All the ladies of the Manor simply donned their prettiest and most eye-catching masks, studded with precious stones, revealing just enough to attract an eligible suitor.
Suitors, it seemed, enjoyed this centuries-old game of deciphering the prettiest and youngest maidens at the ball.
Many were the marriages that took shape at the Autumn ball when the harvest was done, according to local lore.
She wondered how papa, Lord Henry, would react at supper that evening, on learning of her daring demeanour.
Her diamond-encrusted, purple mask still lay untouched in her boudoir.
'Why should I hide my beautiful features behind a piece of cloth?' she murmured quietly to herself.
'The war is over. We are free to choose our path. Unlike Mama and Papa who had to obey and curtsey.'
Just then there was a loud knock on her boudoir door.
'Lady Elena,' her lady-in-waiting, Isabel, called out, 'Lord Henry awaits your presence in the drawing-room in half an hour.'
Isabel's tone was curt. It didn't bode well.
Papa may be angry with me, Elena thought.
Nevertheless, Elena was determined to throw off, at least this shackle of her young womanhood.
Arriving for the rendez-vous with papa, Elena strode purposefully into the drawing-room.
Upon entering, she saw that Papa sat engrossed in his 'Evening Standard' newspaper.
Folding his newspaper carefully before standing up from his armchair, papa opened his arms wide to receive his only daughter.
'Elena, you have opened a new chapter in aristocratic mores by doffing your mask at the ball. Consequently, Lord Charles, the most eligible and richest suitor in the room, having had an opportunity to observe your beauty, desires your hand in marriage. You have shortened the time allotted to courtship rituals and enabled the holy bonds of matrimony to take effect sooner.'
'Papa..papa,' Elena replied. 'Doffing my mask was not intended as a ruse to allow myself to be enchained in matrimony's holy bonds sooner. Quite the opposite. I desire my freedom. Personal freedom. Freedom to choose. To choose a man I wish to be my husband when the time is right or not at all.'
Papa appeared perplexed, enquiring, 'have you taken leave of your senses, young lady?'
Hurriedly, Elena exited the drawing-room. Climbing the marble stairs two at a time, she dashed into her chamber and taking her purple mask from her boudoir, she donned it one last time, while looking in the full-length mirror.
Glancing across at the hourglass on Papa's bureau, she declared, 'sands in the hourglass are running out......not even the most eligible suitor in the room can avert change.'
*******
Sentence writing prompt entry
'I didn't wear the mask.'
Lady Elena pondered her actions from the night before at the Autumn masked ball. She giggled to herself as she mused how she escaped the attentions of some older suitors, thereby enabling her to flutter her twenty- year old eyelashes untrammelled, at whatsoever dashing, young man she wished.
Gently fanning her face, she lowered her lashes in a repeat performance from the night before.
Mama, Lady Ruby, insisted that she wear a diamond-studded mask at the annual event in Mormsby.
After all, such mask-wearing had been de rigueur for generations. All the ladies of the Manor simply donned their prettiest and most eye-catching masks, studded with precious stones, revealing just enough to attract an eligible suitor.
Suitors, it seemed, enjoyed this centuries-old game of deciphering the prettiest and youngest maidens at the ball.
Many were the marriages that took shape at the Autumn ball when the harvest was done, according to local lore.
She wondered how papa, Lord Henry, would react at supper that evening, on learning of her daring demeanour.
Her diamond-encrusted, purple mask still lay untouched in her boudoir.
'Why should I hide my beautiful features behind a piece of cloth?' she murmured quietly to herself.
'The war is over. We are free to choose our path. Unlike Mama and Papa who had to obey and curtsey.'
Just then there was a loud knock on her boudoir door.
'Lady Elena,' her lady-in-waiting, Isabel, called out, 'Lord Henry awaits your presence in the drawing-room in half an hour.'
Isabel's tone was curt. It didn't bode well.
Papa may be angry with me, Elena thought.
Nevertheless, Elena was determined to throw off, at least this shackle of her young womanhood.
Arriving for the rendez-vous with papa, Elena strode purposefully into the drawing-room.
Upon entering, she saw that Papa sat engrossed in his 'Evening Standard' newspaper.
Folding his newspaper carefully before standing up from his armchair, papa opened his arms wide to receive his only daughter.
'Elena, you have opened a new chapter in aristocratic mores by doffing your mask at the ball. Consequently, Lord Charles, the most eligible and richest suitor in the room, having had an opportunity to observe your beauty, desires your hand in marriage. You have shortened the time allotted to courtship rituals and enabled the holy bonds of matrimony to take effect sooner.'
'Papa..papa,' Elena replied. 'Doffing my mask was not intended as a ruse to allow myself to be enchained in matrimony's holy bonds sooner. Quite the opposite. I desire my freedom. Personal freedom. Freedom to choose. To choose a man I wish to be my husband when the time is right or not at all.'
Papa appeared perplexed, enquiring, 'have you taken leave of your senses, young lady?'
Hurriedly, Elena exited the drawing-room. Climbing the marble stairs two at a time, she dashed into her chamber and taking her purple mask from her boudoir, she donned it one last time, while looking in the full-length mirror.
Glancing across at the hourglass on Papa's bureau, she declared, 'sands in the hourglass are running out......not even the most eligible suitor in the room can avert change.'
*******
Lady Elena pondered her actions from the night before at the Autumn masked ball. She giggled to herself as she mused how she escaped the attentions of some older suitors, thereby enabling her to flutter her twenty- year old eyelashes untrammelled, at whatsoever dashing, young man she wished.
Gently fanning her face, she lowered her lashes in a repeat performance from the night before.
Mama, Lady Ruby, insisted that she wear a diamond-studded mask at the annual event in Mormsby.
After all, such mask-wearing had been de rigueur for generations. All the ladies of the Manor simply donned their prettiest and most eye-catching masks, studded with precious stones, revealing just enough to attract an eligible suitor.
Suitors, it seemed, enjoyed this centuries-old game of deciphering the prettiest and youngest maidens at the ball.
Many were the marriages that took shape at the Autumn ball when the harvest was done, according to local lore.
She wondered how papa, Lord Henry, would react at supper that evening, on learning of her daring demeanour.
Her diamond-encrusted, purple mask still lay untouched in her boudoir.
'Why should I hide my beautiful features behind a piece of cloth?' she murmured quietly to herself.
'The war is over. We are free to choose our path. Unlike Mama and Papa who had to obey and curtsey.'
Just then there was a loud knock on her boudoir door.
'Lady Elena,' her lady-in-waiting, Isabel, called out, 'Lord Henry awaits your presence in the drawing-room in half an hour.'
Isabel's tone was curt. It didn't bode well.
Papa may be angry with me, Elena thought.
Nevertheless, Elena was determined to throw off, at least this shackle of her young womanhood.
Arriving for the rendez-vous with papa, Elena strode purposefully into the drawing-room.
Upon entering, she saw that Papa sat engrossed in his 'Evening Standard' newspaper.
Folding his newspaper carefully before standing up from his armchair, papa opened his arms wide to receive his only daughter.
'Elena, you have opened a new chapter in aristocratic mores by doffing your mask at the ball. Consequently, Lord Charles, the most eligible and richest suitor in the room, having had an opportunity to observe your beauty, desires your hand in marriage. You have shortened the time allotted to courtship rituals and enabled the holy bonds of matrimony to take effect sooner.'
'Papa..papa,' Elena replied. 'Doffing my mask was not intended as a ruse to allow myself to be enchained in matrimony's holy bonds sooner. Quite the opposite. I desire my freedom. Personal freedom. Freedom to choose. To choose a man I wish to be my husband when the time is right or not at all.'
Papa appeared perplexed, enquiring, 'have you taken leave of your senses, young lady?'
Hurriedly, Elena exited the drawing-room. Climbing the marble stairs two at a time, she dashed into her chamber and taking her purple mask from her boudoir, she donned it one last time, while looking in the full-length mirror.
Glancing across at the hourglass on Papa's bureau, she declared, 'sands in the hourglass are running out......not even the most eligible suitor in the room can avert change.'
*******
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Writing Prompt Write a story that starts with this sentence: I didn't wear the mask. |
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