Emeline Mather
"Emeline, darling, have you found a muse yet for your stitching?" Mother set her tea cup down lightly on the matching saucer.
Looking down at my blank piece of cloth, I sighed. "No, Mother. Nothing has caught my eye."
She stood up and strode across the parlor to put her hand on my shoulder. "There are some lovely robins outside. Perhaps you could stitch one before they fly away for the winter."
"Yes," I murmured. "Perhaps." I tucked away the needle and my embroidery hoop into the wicker basket beside my chair. "I do think a breath of fresh air would do me good. If I may, Mother."
"Of course, dear." Mother smiled kindly at me, creating wrinkles on the sides of her mouth. "Run along now." I stood up carefully, I learned the hard way that standing up too quickly while wearing a corset would give you a terrible headrush. "Do be back in time for dinner. I expect it to be ready soon."
I gave Mother a small nod and curtsy before hurrying out the front door straight into Wilkins, the post rider. His gray streaked hair was frazzled, sticking every which way out of his ponytail. I've never seen his hair as slick and tidy as Father's. I suppose it's from riding around all day.
"Oh! Miss Mather, I have your post." He grinned, handing me a small stack of envelopes.
"Of course you do." I said, pursing my lips. "It is your job, is it not?"
Wilkins cheeks turned pink as he tried to smooth out his hair. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it immediately. I raised my eyebrows at him, curious as to why he was still standing in my way.
"I best be off, then." He muttered and walked off back to his horse who was waiting for him halfway down the path.
I let out a small irritated puff of air then brushed off the front of my dark green dress as if my interaction with Wilkins had somehow made me filthy. I thumbed through the post until I found one addressed to me. Warmth and excitement built inside me because I already knew what it was. The Mayor's home address in the corner and the exquisite calligraphy on the front, how could it not be my invite?
I rushed back up to the porch and set the other mail on the banister. My hands trembled slightly as I opened the cream colored envelope.
Emeline Mather, you are cordially invited to attend Lord and Lady Pennington's annual Harvest Ball on the sixteenth of October-
I stopped reading after the first line, too excited to focus.
"Emme, dear! I was just out looking for you." Grandfather's deep voice boomed behind me.
"Grandfather, look what arrived today!" I grinned, turning around to face him. "It's my invitation to the Harvest Ball."
"Oh, how lovely." He smiled then gestured to someone behind him. "Emme, there's someone I'd like for you to meet."
"Miss Mather," a different steadier voice spoke. "My name is Asa Calhoun. It is-"
"An honor to be in my presence, I'm sure." I said sourly not looking up. My excitement turned into annoyance at how quickly Grandfather dismissed my invitation. I slipped the invite back into its envelope and pushed past both of them.
"Emeline!" Grandfather called after me, but I pretended not to hear him as I strutted back into the house. An invitation like this, although expected, should be celebrated. Mother would surely find it as mesmerizing as I did.
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