Miss Elizabeth Hastings had always been a queer sort of girl. Her mother had taken every opportunity to see that she was raised in all the proper mannerisms, as a lady should be, but she was rapidly coming to the realization that her daughter was not, at all, what she had expected. It was not that Mrs. Hastings only saw the faults in her daughter. She instead had a clear and unbridled look into the very heart of her, as it was very much like her own heart. In that way, Elizabeth and her mother shared tears, joys, and sorrows as only kindred spirits can. Yet, despite the intimate relationship and familial bond the two shared, Mrs. Hastings found her, at times, very vexing. While she had married and found her own way to fit into a niche in society, her daughter seemed to have no ability to adapt. She was of the firm belief that society expected too much of her but thought instead that society should adapt to her expectations instead. Mrs. Hastings thought this was an utterly and entirely ridiculous notion.

It wasn’t that Elizabeth had no saving graces; for in many ways she was a person of a beautiful soul and exuded a strange sort of vibrancy that one could not quite put a finger on. Her mother thought too, that she had a very lovely neck and should very much try some of the newer fashions from town, which were indeed quite daring this season. There was something about the way Elizabeth pinned her curls at the nape of her neck, almost careless and yet every curl entirely perfect, as if her hair were the only thing that really knew its’ proper place about her. She walked with a sort of natural grace that few women, even those of breeding, contained. It was not the sort of thing one could learn but instead had to have possessed in their character in the first place. These were the sorts of qualities that Mrs. Hastings praised and encouraged in Elizabeth. While they were superb qualities on their own, when paired with the qualities in her daughter that she extremely disliked, Mrs. Hastings was certain that the only way Elizabeth would ever fit properly into society was if God himself sent a miracle.

Elizabeth was quite stubborn when it came to the changes in her character that her mother felt should improve her standing in society. They were, she insisted, part of who she was and she firmly felt that she should not have to change everything she held dear and valued simply to please who had not so much brain as earwax, as Shakespeare put it. Her first failing, as her mother indeed ranked them in order of the level of vexation they caused, was her strange ability to be both two people at once. In the places she was most comfortable, Elizabeth was cheerful, eloquent, and altogether delightful. Her closest friends found her to be one of the kindest people on the face of the planet, and she rarely spoke a word against any person, no matter how fiercely she might dislike them. At worst during these times, she was prone to fits of passion in which she would occasionally get carried away with her exuberance but she was careful to take note to try and contain herself a little better when she found such excitement. While her mother delighted in Elizabeth’s cheerful countenance, it was the other person in Elizabeth that she disliked.

When she was around people or situations that caused her discomfort or had a sense of unfamiliarity, Elizabeth was not such a bright and shining star. She could converse with the best of them if she was addressed and someone started a topic of conversation, but she was reluctant and timid for some reason that Mrs. Hastings could not quite comprehend. While she would slowly warm up to the situation, her best features seemed clouded at best and would easily be overlooked unless one were unusually perceptive or searching out the qualities within her. It was this particular fault that Mrs. Hastings was currently trying patch up.

“Ellie,” Mrs. Hastings began.

It was early afternoon and the tea still just a little too hot to drink quite yet which left them all with the perfect opportunity for Mrs. Hastings to begin her usual rant. Teatime was always a time in which she ambushed her children by bringing up all manner of topics. While Elaine and Nathaniel were usually able to escape this fate, Elizabeth was not. She slowly looked up from her tea, which was cooling on its saucer. Her death glares into it had not seemed to convince it to cool any faster than it currently was. She did not speak, but blinked expectantly at her mother.

“Ellie, yesterday afternoon I heard the most delightful news,” she continued. Elaine barely managed to contain a giggle behind her napkin. This was how it always began.

“And what news would that be, Mother?” Elizabeth asked, reaching for a scone and pretending that it was the most fascinating thing to have ever been invented by human minds.

“Well, you see, I ran into Mrs. Price in the milliner’s shop as she was admiring a wonderful hat with a feather that I am sure must have been from a peacock or some other exotic bird, as it was most distinctly colored and it was incredibly—“

“Mother, I don’t really care for fashion.” Ellie insisted, breaking off a piece of the scone and delicately starting to eat it. If she spent long enough eating it, perhaps she could avoid conversation altogether.

“Well, Mrs. Price was kind enough to tell me of a ball she will be holding three nights hence and extended a cordial invitation to you especially, dearest. It’s in honor of her brother-in-law’s visit, as it has been a terribly long time since he has been out this way. You remember Mr. Robert Price, do you not?”

“I recall him, Mother.”

“I do hope that you’ll go. The Prices are a dear, dear family and have always shown us the greatest affection. Elaine and Nathaniel will both be attending and I am sure there will be a great deal of other people for you to converse with as well.”

At that, both Nathaniel and Elaine looked up from their own teacups, as if startled. They, clearly, had heard nothing of this ball and were not aware that they were attending, a fact which caused a tiny smile to tug at the corners of Elizabeth’s mouth for the first time in the conversation. She purposefully continued with another bite of her scone, slowly chewing before taking a sip of tea, which had now cooled enough to drink. Nathaniel, Elaine, and Mrs. Hastings all watched her with looks of pity, curiosity, and expectation respectively. At last, the teacup was returned to its saucer with a soft clink of porcelain.

“Very well.”

It was not the reaction that any of them had expected.