Eliza did go out to the city yesterday to do some shopping and brought back way more items than I thought she would. However, I suppose it makes sense since she had way more to work with than just her pin money. Unfortunately, not everything was for her. She purchased some stuff for me for the ball as well, just some small things. We hadn't talked much since the other night, but I could see a difference in her demeanor. She seemed.... happier? She is more confident in herself and like she finally found a way ahead. I just wish it was for any other reason.

At about seven at night, Eliza went upstairs to start getting ready for our long ride to the Griswold estate. I lingered downstairs for another half hour, savoring my book while I still could before being swept up in the chaos of society. Simon followed behind me up the stairs to assist me in getting ready. He picked out specific pieces from my wardrobe and I already knew that it was everything Eliza had picked out. Most of the outfit was stuff that I would normally wear, a white shirt and a pair of black knee breeches matched with a black waistcoat. The only differences were that the cravat was made of silk and featured a gold cravat pin, the tailcoat was crafted from dark red lightweight wool, and there was a pair of white leather gloves. I allowed Simon to assist me more than I typically do. He pulled on my waistcoat, buttoned it up, tied my cravat, and ensured it was straight before securing the pin. Finally, he helped me into my tailcoat. 

One last glance in the looking glass and I hardly recognized myself. Though it was still me, I might be able to pass as one of them. Or close to it. After taking some time to psyche myself up, I exited my room and headed down the hall. When I got to the landing I paused, eyes immediately locked on my sister.

 

Eliza stood in the center of the Hall, bathed in the soft light from the chandelier overhead. The deep red silk satin of her dress caught the light and appeared to sparkle. The fabric of her dress fell in smooth, vertical lines, tapering down to the floor where it pooled at her feet in a sweep that seemed to defy the weight of the material itself, flowing like liquid red. Her white leather gloves—elbow-length and pristine—seemed almost ethereal, elongating her form with an elegant contrast to the rich, warm hue of her gown. A reticule dangled from her wrist, its soft shimmer matching the pearls woven through her hair, strands of them catching the light as she turned her head ever so slightly, almost as if aware of the way her presence commanded attention. Her sapphire pendant—set against the black ribbon of her choker—hung perfectly at the hollow of her throat, an undeniable accent to the understated beauty of her ensemble.

"Eliza..." I finally managed, my voice a little hoarse. She would pass as one of them. She had all the refinement and teachings to be able to blend in.

She turned, a smile blooming on her lips, "Do you think it’s too much?"

"No. It’s perfect." I stated while descending the stairs.

Her smile widened, and I couldn’t help but return it, though my heart still seemed to be caught somewhere between admiration and an emotion I couldn't quite place. As we stepped into the waiting carriage, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this evening might hold more than I expected.

The carriage ride to the Griswold mansion took well over an hour and a half, though the scenery was well worth it. As we went further and further into the countryside, the forest grew greener and denser making the road grow dark. Well - as dark as it could get being that it was already sundown. I noticed the driver lit more lamps so he could see in front of him. Eliza began her act of blending into society. With her shoulders back and head held high, she spoke only when spoken to. It was honestly a truly magnificent performance. I laughed as she began to pretend how to use a fan and it sent her into a fit of laughter as well. Never did I think I'd be having this much fun with her again, but I'm so glad it was happening.

The carriage slowed to a crawl as we rounded the corner, and moments later, came to a complete stop at the gate. Just to get past it and enter the property, I had to show the letter that Lady Griswold had written to me. I passed it to the doorman - or "gateman" - and he inspected it with a magnifying glass and a separate piece of paper. I didn't need to see it to know he was verifying the handwriting. This Lady Griswold must be someone special. I wish I could recall whether I've heard that name before. Her father must be someone of great importance to have so much security outside his home, all for a party being thrown for his daughter's engagement. I couldn't possibly wait to meet such a man. Eliza gave me a quizzical look as I took the letter from Lady Griswold back from the gentleman.

After we were allowed through, the road was lined with perfectly trimmed bushes, with not a single twig out of place. The grass was so closely cut that I bet if you used a ruler, every blade would measure the same height. Behind a magnificent marble fountain, which was surrounded by the circular driveway, stood the opulent building. The chimneys came out of the roofs like branches out of a tree. Just how many fireplaces does this place have? Every single room was lit up making the estate look like a beacon of hope in the dark forest, strings of lit lanterns hung across the pillars. As we pulled up to the door, we noticed people meandering through the grand entryway, gossiping and holding champagne glasses filled at different intervals.

After stepping out of the carriage, I turned and offered my hand to Eliza to aid her in stepping down. She thanked me when she was on solid ground and took my arm, her brilliant white glove shone against my coat. We made our way up the stone steps and through the giant double doors. The Hall was quite empty, with just a few people lingering and staff assisting those who needed help. A lump formed in my throat as Eliza removed her arm from around mine and adjusted her appearance in a nearby mirror. I decided to do the same and I adjusted my cravat. Next to my reflection, Eliza looked at home; like she belonged in this world instead of the one she'd chosen.

 

She chuckled. “You look like you’re about to face a firing squad, brother,” she said, her voice laced with a playful warmth.

“Just not used to these… gatherings,” I muttered, straightening my waistcoat. “All these opulent people, all this… wealth.”

Eliza took my arm again, the weight of it seemed to help ground me. “Relax, Ezra. We’re here to celebrate Lady Griswold’s happiness, remember? Besides,” she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, “Think of it as an anthropological study. Observe the mating rituals of the upper crust.”

I couldn't help but smile and let out a few chuckles as we followed a footman in between the double staircase, down a different hall, and to the open double doors of the ballroom. We lingered outside for a bit, Eliza understanding that I needed to calm my nerves. Music flowed through the doors and played beautifully. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the pine floors, their rich, warm hues glowing softly in the flickering candlelight. Laughter and conversations filled the air, mingling with the music and overwhelming my senses.

Eliza squeezed my arm reassuringly. “Chin up, brother,” she whispered. “Let’s show them that the Geldart twins know how to make an entrance.”

With that, she led me into the vibrant heart of the ballroom, a smile illuminating her face. Despite the lingering unease, a spark of excitement ignited within me. Tonight, I was not just Ezra Geldart, the writer; I was Ezra Geldart, Eliza’s brother, walking alongside her into the bright, glittering unknown. She seemed so at ease, gliding across the hall and smiling at people she did not even know. Obviously, her upbringing was not wasted, though I know she detested this type of thing. I noticed all sorts of men staring at her. One man, in particular, couldn't take his eyes off her; he didn't even blink. His hair was slicked back, and his eyes resembled pools of obsidian. To his right stood a petite girl with shimmering blonde hair, clad in an exquisite white gown with delicate gold details that caught the light with every movement she made. She seemed to recognize me, though I'm positive I never once was introduced to her, and she hastily made her way towards us with the red-haired gentleman in tow. I could see her tell him something on the way over, but couldn't make out what it was over the noise. 

"I presume you are Mr. Geldart." he extended his hand and I took it, giving it a firm shake.

"That I am. Though I must apologize for not knowing who you are." 

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bartholomew Collins. And this," he gestured to the lady next to him, whose honey-coated eyes beamed with excitement, "is the Marchioness of Hastings, Lady Genevieve Griswold."

I bowed slightly, "Delighted to meet your acquaintance, Lady Griswold. May I introduce my sister, Eliza." she curtsied as I said her name.

"I'm so delighted both of you could come and I hope you two have a good time." Her bright, silvery voice filled the space between us, creating a calming atmosphere.

"Lady Griswold, congratulations on your engagement. You look radiant. May I say, Mr. Collins has excellent taste in choosing such a stunning bride." Eliza flashed a charming smile at Bartholomew before turning her attention back to Genevieve.

"Why, thank you, Miss Eliza. Your discerning eye for beauty does you credit. May I have the next dance?" he said, smugly. His gaze seemed to eye her up and down, lingering too long on her décolletage.

"Perhaps later, Mr. Collins. I believe my brother and I would like to get some refreshments before participating." I noticed her voice started to get cold and she started subtly pulling me towards the side of the room where the refreshment tables put the ones at our shared birthday party to shame.

An exquisite spread of freshly baked pastries, vibrant fruits, artisanal cheeses, and an array of delightful finger foods surrounded a tower of glasses filled with champagne. Several bowls of punch and lemonade adorned mahogany tables with white lace tablecloths. Guests in gilded gowns and highly tailored suits mingled nearby, chattering and gossiping. Eliza poured a glass of punch and handed it to me before pouring one for herself. She then led me to a secluded part of the ballroom, which I was very thankful for.

 

Swirling her glass, the ruby liquid sloshing close to the rim, I could see her looking across the room. Finally, my eyes caught on to what, or who, she was glaring daggers at. Mr. Collins was surrounded by a gaggle of giggling young ladies hanging onto his every word. I believe my sister and I both had the same gut feeling about him. His personality was a grotesque mix of vanity and avarice.

"Am I correct in assuming we both find him repulsive?" I took a sip of my punch.

 "As appealing as a week-old corpse, dear brother. I swear, that man could make a saint question their faith." Her voice... I've never heard it like this before. Cold and dripping with venom, yet a hint of concern.

"Well, you can't blame Lady Griswold for his personality, can you?" I said with a nervous chuckle.

Eliza sighed. "No, and thankfully she seems truly happy. But the thought of that... creature... touching her makes my skin crawl." a visible shudder ran through her.

We stayed there like that, talking and being by ourselves. No one seemed to notice, or care, about the strange twins in the corner, keeping to themselves. A small circle had formed on the other end of the room with Genevieve at the head of it, looking like the picture of happiness. Beside her, Bartholomew stood, his posture almost arrogantly casual, his hair perfectly styled, his deep blue coat an impeccable cut. His smile was one of someone who had been taught to charm, but never truly cared to understand. A man of ambition and vanity, he wore his fiancé's wealth like a cloak, though it was obvious to anyone with eyes that Genevieve's title had far more to offer him than her heart ever would. Before I knew it, he had met my gaze meaning my sister and I's cover was blown.

 

He strode towards us, his lanky frame practically oozing self-importance. I could see Eliza fight the urge to roll her eyes and I had to stifle a laugh.

"Miss Eliza! There you are! I've been searching for you all evening." he said, his voice a smooth baritone that seemed to coat everything it touched with false charm.

"And what, pray tell, could you possibly want with me, Mr. Collins?" she asked, her voice dripping with feigned politeness.

"I simply had to compliment you on your striking appearance this evening. That shade of red is most becoming on you." Mr. Collins said, oblivious to her disdain

"How kind of you to notice," Eliza said, her tone clipped. She desperately wanted to escape his suffocating presence, but social etiquette demanded she endure the ordeal.

Sensing her discomfort, I tried to intervene. "Mr. Collins, I believe Lady Griswold might be looking for you. Perhaps you should—"

"Nonsense, Geldart, a moment with Miss Eliza won't hurt anyone." he waved a dismissive hand at me, his gaze fixated on Eliza. 

"I believe you owe me a dance. One can't possibly hurt, could it?" He leaned closer, his breath hot on Eliza's cheek. "After all, I am one of the hosts."

 

She started to recoil but held it in as there were eyes on us. Begrudgingly, she took his hand and they both took off for the dance floor before the next song began. Soft footsteps echoed next to me, but my eyes were fixated on my sister.

"They look so lovely, don't they, Mr. Geldart?" It was Genevieve. Her voice was soft with a vague hint of sadness one only accustomed to hearing would notice.

Without looking away from Bartholomew's possessive grip on my sister's waist, I replied, "Indeed, Lady Griswold."

"Bartholomew can be a bit... enthusiastic."

I was hesitant to speak ill of her future husband and chose my words carefully, "Perhaps a bit too much."

She sighed softly, "He means well, but sometimes his exuberance... overshadows others."

"He seems particularly focused on my sister."

"Miss Geldart is quite striking in that gown, isn't she?"

I couldn't get a read on her. Did she already know and accept his flirting with other women and just didn't care? Was marrying on her side also one of convenience? She seemed rather lonely, but I could not figure out why. Wanting to steer the conversation away from the dance floor, I turned to her. 

Around her neck was a string of pearls and from that hung a silver locket. "That's a beautiful locket, Lady Griswold."

"Thank you. It holds pictures of my parents. I never take it off." Her hand came up and caressed it, a small smile forming on her face.

"I was wondering if there was any chance that I could meet them. Surely they're here to help celebrate this momentous occasion." Peering my neck around the ballroom, I searched for at least an elderly lady with possible blonde hair.

Her eyes flickered down to the floor before she composed herself, "I lost them both when I was very young. My mother passed away after giving birth to me and my father died when I was four. He was injured in the war."

A flashback popped into my head of reading his obituary in the paper while sitting in my father's study. Ellis Griswold, the late magnate, the man whose death had reverberated through the halls of every major financial institution in the country. The wealth and power he left behind had shaped the very fabric of society. It was now clear that Genevieve had inherited more than just a title; she had also inherited the weight of his legacy and the invisible burden of his influence.

"I read of his passing in the papers," I said quietly, "though I must admit, I didn’t realize it was you until just now." 

Genevieve’s gaze softened, but a faint shadow lingered behind her eyes, "I suppose that’s the curse of having a name like Griswold," she said with a thin smile. "People see my title and legacy, not me. No one asks who I am beyond that."

My heart sank, realizing the weight of what she must carry every day. No longer just the daughter of a great man, but a woman caught in the tremors of his absence. It made her engagement to Bartholomew feel all the more tragic. He wasn’t just a man seeking her affection; he was another piece of the world that demanded she be something she was not. A marriage of convenience for both of them, no doubt.

I wanted to say more, but before I could, Eliza’s laughter rang out across the room, cutting through the tense air like a shard of glass.

I couldn't shake the feeling that everything about tonight was unfolding in unexpected ways. Eliza was playing her role flawlessly, but there was a tension in her demeanor that I hadn’t noticed before. She was no longer just my sister; she was transforming into something greater. She was becoming a powerful presence in a world I had no desire to join, yet it felt like that world was drawing us both in.

"You seem... concerned," Genevieve's voice interrupted my thoughts.

I turned back to her, nodding slightly. "My sister... She's very good at pretending. But I fear it may be wearing her down."

"She’s not the only one," Genevieve said, her voice a whisper now, just for me. "Pretending is what we all do, Mr. Geldart. You’d be surprised how much of it is necessary to survive."

I studied her for a moment, her hand absentmindedly brushing against the locket. "I think I understand," I murmured. I glanced once more at my sister, laughing under the weight of a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Then, with a deep breath, I turned to Genevieve. "I hope that one day you can choose for yourself, Lady Griswold, not because of your father, your fiancé, or anyone else, but just for you."

She met my gaze, her lips curving into a wistful, almost sad smile. "Perhaps, Mr. Geldart," she said softly. "Perhaps."

The song finally ended and Eliza pried herself away from Bartholomew the moment she could. She stopped in front of us and curtsied to Genevieve, "Lady Griswold. Brother, I think it is time for us to go home. I am quite tired and feel a headache coming on."

"Oh, then you must get home and get some rest. I wouldn't want you to stay here when you're feeling poorly." Genevive's tone had shifted as she tried to adopt a more motherly approach. She turned her attention to me, "And I do look forward to your article, Mr. Geldart. I won't know what to do with myself until it's publicized."

"I look forward to writing it, Lady Griswold," I said with a slight bow. "I should get Eliza home now. It’s been a true pleasure."

Eliza took my arm, and together we stepped out of the grandiose estate, leaving behind a world we could visit but once. The weight of the night's events hung heavily between us as we rode in silence. We both understood that our lives were about to grow infinitely more complicated, all because Bartholomew coveted Eliza. His disregard for Genevieve’s feelings was clear, and it only made him more dangerous. We knew he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. I could only hope we were ready for whatever he had in store, for something told me this wouldn't be the last time we crossed paths with him.