"Is that needed?" Alethea asked, a flash of panic in her voice. "Must I really re-enter high society? I feel fine here, as I am."
"Of course," Felicity said. "You are a Carter. People will want to know where you've been and who you are now. We must go shopping for dresses soon, in preparation of the balls ahead. I'm certain that you will be quite the topic."
Alethea felt her throat tighten. She had never been to a ball before, though she had heard of them. Nor did she have many dresses. Her attire, for most of her life, had been simple and practical. Fashion was not something that was considered, rather modesty was the point of clothing.
"Why?" Alethea asked, setting her fork down. "What does it matter what I wear or who sees me wearing it?"
"It matters because that is the world we live in," Daphne said carefully. "And because you deserve your place in it. You're not hidden anymore, Alethea."
"And what am I meant to do at these gatherings?" Alethea asked. "Smile and pretend the past twenty three years did not occur?"
"You are not expected to pretend," Ambrose said. "Only to carry yourself with the dignity that your name affords you. That, in itself, says everything."
"I was not raised for this," she replied. "And I have no idea how to begin."
"No one does," Daphne said, her expression warming. "That's the secret of it. We all begin somewhere. You simply begin now."
Alethea glanced down at her plate, her appetite waning beneath the weight of expectation. She opted not to speak for the remainder of the dinner, already feeling as though she had been spread too thin. While her sisters tried to encourage conversations, they too stopped after they saw that she was simply not in the mood anymore.
When dinner was over, Alethea stood to return to her chambers. It felt like the one place inside this strange new house where she could afford a sense of comfort. She made her way down the corridor, but right as she exited the door, she heard them speaking amongst themselves.
Her cheeks reddened when she realized that they were talking about her.
"She is… very different," she heard Felicity say, "I do not say it as a criticism, only as fact."
"Well, what else could she be?" Joyce answered. "She's lived a life none of us can understand."
"She barely spoke after the first few questions. I could not tell whether she was offended or merely overwhelmed," Joyce added.
"She has every right to be overwhelmed," Daphne said. "She's been thrust into a world she was never prepared for, among people she cannot possibly remember."
"But Daphne, you must see the point that I am trying to make here," Felicity countered, "how is she to survive in society if she cannot speak freely at her own dinner table?"
"She does not need to charm thetonall at once," Daphne replied. "She only needs to be herself, and that will be enough."
"But will it?" Joyce asked. "You know what they will say, once word spreads. That she is a Carter by birth but not by breeding. That no one knows what became of her in all those years."
There was a pause, and then it was Ambrose who spoke up.
"Let them say what they will. There are few with the nerve to speak openly, and none who will dare while I am present."
"That is noble of you, Your Grace," Felicity murmured, though not without a trace of skepticism. "But you know as well as I that thetonrarely speaks openly."
"You speak of them as though they are wolves, Felicity," Daphne replied. She seemed to have a different temperament than the rest of the sisters. She was calmer, and more level headed.
It was something that Alethea could appreciate in a person's personality, and she suspected that out of them all, it would be Daphne with whom she got along with the best.
"And are they not?" Joyce asked quietly. "Oh, I do not mean to be unkind, but you know what society can be like. And Alethea is... well, she is something of an enigma."
"She is one of us," Daphne said firmly. "She always has been. That her path was diverted does not make her a stranger."
Once again, Daphne was defending her. It felt strange to be defended, when all her life she had only been assigned blame. Alethea did not know what to make of the feeling entirely.
"Her manner is very peculiar," Joyce said after a moment. "She says things plainly, without concern for how they may sound. And she looks at people so directly. It's a little unsettling."
"That's because she was raised among women who had no need for pretense," said Daphne. "She doesn't understand yet that our world runs on it."
"And therein lies the difficulty," Joyce added. "How is she to play the part when she does not even know the stage?"
