A Debutante's Lament

[Eryane 3698]

 

A Debutante’s Lament

A courier comes to the Lady Woldzmir, and rests but one hand at his back as he lowers himself into some exquisite bow. Thereafter giving his letter he departs, swiftly without another word for the woman once she were to take the letter proffered to her.

---

 

To Mother, 

Lady Woldzmir, 

 

I pen you in hopes that you will not be disappointed by my recent failures, and aspire that instead you might take what apologies I can give as a replacement for the roles of your own I have not filled, as you were one of the finest actresses; a legacy of your own creation that I myself struggle to uphold. The pen befits me far more, I do so find, than the publicity one is engulfed in by embarking upon performances in front of a crowd of thousands. Miss Agnes de Frand, one of the debutantes of the recent season, has taken the role of Helaine de Sarkozy and Miss Emerentia Kovachev the spot of Lorin Flay in the casting of “Lorin + Siegmund”. I had hoped to be given the opportunity to audition with the Baron Helvets, yet the cast list was announced before we were given the chance to do so together. Miss Emerentia will do quite well in portraying her; a recent acquaintance of my own with an apt talent for the theatrical arts and even going on to be one of the finest composers I myself have come across. Mother, I shall hope that you have some wisdom to share in deteriorating this jealousy that scrapes at my mind, even if I know it to be true that the pair casted shall do better than I.

 

Perhaps it is that I am not as talented on the stage as you. I pray that this does not bring great strife to you, that I cannot be what I ought to. I apologize, greatly so– Mother. There are an innumerable amount of matters in which I find myself incapable of fulfilling; even in the social season, though I suspected myself not to be the Ruby of the Season. A foolish desire it was, for a split moment of my time I had considered myself to have a singular chance for contesting the position, though such pondering swiftly left my mind. I compare myself to all that is these other lady debutantes; their hair, their cosmetics, their mannerisms, the fine dresses crafted by utterly proficient seamstresses. 

 

At the end of it all, presentations, soirees, and what have you– I look to the mirror with a frown at what I have conjured for the evening. If there was one invention I wish never to have brought to existence, it would be that cruel reflecting glass. I am so filled with nerves at almost every course and turn, which does me to no avail in my societal tribulations. They consume most of my speech, how I hold myself, all the like. How am I to be a proper lady when I have to exert myself at a mere conversation with an unfamiliar courtier? My hands shake, horridly so, and I attempt to brush off the quivering in my voice with excuses that are not true; ones not admitting that I am terrified of most social relations. 

 

Mother, the tabloids do not help me overcome these worries at all; these social apprehensions which I wish would lament me no longer. There must be some truth behind the hearsay, I am certain of it, for most all matters come from something. I believe the gentleman I spoke to you of, the Baron Robert Helvets, not care for me as I had at first imagined– not entirely so without complications of the matter, that is. A hopeless romantic am I to be so easily swept away! The ladies tell me he is taken by affections for the Lady Kaphro. Surely, you have seen these papers that I speak of. He confessed himself to his affections he maintained for her –continuously does maintain– yet spoke of the desire to progress past this as he believes it not to be reciprocated. 

 

Once you and father had said I to be some shining light for this family, some redemption for all that we have lost, but I see it not so; thus I apologize, vehemently, with all that is my pained heart. 

 

With love,

Milena

 

---

@Axelu