December 21st, 1894 - Malfoy Ball

The ball was set to start in less than an hour and their lady's maid seemed to have adopted a glacial pace. Torie was the last one to get her hair done, while one of the maids was fussing over one of her sister's dresses, she couldn't see from her position at the vanity, but Torie, normally the most patient of the three, was losing her composure.

"Estelle can you pass me a champagne?" Surely that was going to help. Torie hadn't been quite so wound up about an event this year, but after making the better acquaintance of Mr. Echelon-Arnost, she was eager to get downstairs. His invitation had included a personal note from her and his positive RSVP had to be a good sign right? "I do hope they got the desserts right." Her hand in the planning had been light, but she had suggested the color scheme and she wanted everything to be done right.

She looked down at the midnight blue dress she wore. It had a dubiously low neckline and some hint of a gold shimmer to the fabric. It was draped to perfection for her form, but she still worried. Was it too much? Would it turn heads? Merlin she was starting to find the season itself tedious, she needed to get on the other side of this.

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Angeline Malfoy & Estelle Malfoy

  

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Red again! June 1894

Damn their ball for being a masquerade! She needed to confront Mr. Maxime about her problem, but she was never going to pin him down with that added anonymity. And of course he would never willingly show up when and where she wanted him: he never did anything considerate when he could instead be rude and perverse.

So she had fretted herself into a grim mood, but also a distracted one – it took a few long seconds for her to realise that Torie had said her name. Estelle was in fact so distracted that she passed her sister a champagne without making any remarks or judgemental tutting, which was unheard of.

Estelle pursed her lips, trying to suck her stomach in where she sat, to see if there was any telltale proof of it yet. But Torie seemed a little off, too. Better that they talked about Torie’s problems than hers, Estelle decided swiftly, so – “You sound almost nervous, you know. Whatever’s gotten into you?” It was a genuine question, not intended to be facetious; Torie seemed preoccupied.

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Had Angeline possessed the ability to read her sister’s minds she would have been appalled at their contents: they had no business fussing about the men in their life when she had to be the focus of the night’s festivities. She was old, there was nothing else for it, she would either have to marry before summer or throw herself from the top of a turret. (Or something equally lurid she was sure Tig would be able to help her fathom out.)

It would aggrieve her even more the learn that either of her sister’s were worrying about themselves at a time like this. Didn’t they have any loyalty?!

While she did not, in fact, possess such telepathic abilities she had not yet been struck with blindness and so she said: “You’re one to talk, darling, you don’t seem yourself at all.” By which she off course meant that Estelle had not complained once all day in her hearing and that was most unlike her.

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   Victoire Malfoy

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time of death: when MJ dropped this heart-stopping set

Torie accepted the glass with a look of her own at her sister. Now comment about not being counted amongst the help? That was unusual. Whatever it was that had distracted Torie, Estelle seemed to be in a similar mood and now the youngest Malfoy was curious. "Yes, Estelle, whatever is the matter?" She batted her eyelashes at her sister over the rim of her champagne glass before taking a sip. Torie knew this opened up a retaliatory question, but honestly, she wasn't so abashed about her own concerns as to hide them.

Turning turned her whole body, making the maid adjust with her, so she could peer curiously at her sister without bothering to hide the fact that she would rather not be the center of attention. She cast a look over at Angel briefly before refocusing on her middle sister, pinning her with a raised eyebrow.

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Red again! June 1894

Ugh. They were both looking at her: what had she done? Torie was in the way at the vanity now for her hair, so Estelle couldn’t see her face, but she worried it was paler than usual. If only that was a sign her monthlies were coming – she had never wanted that time of the month to arrive so badly.

So she might not be quite her usual self, but if Angel and Torie thought that she had undergone a full personality transplant and was going to confide in either of them, they were as stupid as usual. But she could not come up with another good lie for her distraction, on the spot (– she was not an especially good liar, generally –) so instead she settled for unrepentant childishness. “I asked you first,” she huffed. Torie had a risque low neckline tonight, no doubt to attract attention – Estelle had tried that this summer.

She was beginning to regret it now.

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   Victoire Malfoy

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Torie quirked an eyebrow at her sister as the lady's maid finally finished with her hair. Now she could finally turn to face her sisters properly and get a real feel for Estelle's expression. There was something off, but she couldn't put a finger on it. They were not particularly close, the three of them, but Torie had learned to read their moods well enough. They spent enough time in the same room at least.

Still, she was willing to play the game. "I have invited someone tonight, if you must know." She needed to bounce back from the Anthony situation and she couldn't wait for either Estelle or Angel to wed before she did so. If she did that, she would be a spinster herself, if it happened at all! It simply would not do. Torie needed out of this house as badly as the rest of them and she would not be made to wait simply because her sisters had terrible personalities.

Glancing back at her hair in the mirror, she was satisfied with the updo, soft around her face, not to severe, good for the angles of her face. She smiled as the lady's maid draped her sapphire necklace along her décolletage. It was dainty, but the stone was just a hint lighter than her dress. The earrings hung in teardrops and she set her champagne aside to put them in. "Is that what has your knickers in a twist too, Estelle?" It had come up in the past, so Torie was curious to know if anything had changed or not.

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Red again! June 1894

Estelle frowned. She had not forgotten that once she had all but admitted to Torie to expecting a particular gentleman, and been disappointed by his absence. Grimly, she thought that of course Victoire would have better luck, whomever she had invited. He would come.

So she might have asked who their younger sister was angling after now, but first she had to disperse any concerns they had about her. “No,” Estelle said, wan and vague and expending no energy in the statement, as if this would make her seem perfectly calm about everything. “I just have a headache,” she said, which was not true – if she had had headache, she would not have kept quiet about it, but announced it as soon as she had felt the very first pang in her temples, and then made a great scene about possibly having to miss the party. “And it does you no good to look desperate to marry, Torie,” she intoned, almost well-meaning, almost in warning. (And she and Angel were desperate, but they could not all three seem so). “Besides, marriage is the very last thing men are concerned by.”

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