Chapter 104: Prelude to the ball I

Chapter 104: Chapter 104: Prelude to the ball I

Monday.

Vivienne awoke to sunlight already spilling across her room at Rosemont Hall.

She blinked slowly, still wrapped comfortably beneath the blankets, before turning her head toward the window.

"...What time is it?"

Claire, already awake on the opposite side of the room, glanced at the clock.

"A little after ten."

Vivienne blinked.

"So late?"

Claire laughed.

"I’m surprised you even asked. Yesterday exhausted everyone."

Vivienne smiled sheepishly.

Yesterday...

The Beaumont townhouse.

The endless fittings.

Matching jewelry.

Trying different hairstyles.

Standing for photographs after everything had finally been decided.

By the time they had returned to St. Albion University last night, she had barely enough energy to change into her nightclothes before falling asleep.

"...I suppose it did."

Claire stretched lazily before sitting upright.

"You were smiling in your sleep."

Vivienne looked over.

"I was not."

"You were."

"I refuse to believe that."

Claire only grinned.

"Believe whatever you like."

Vivienne sighed dramatically before laughing.

Honestly...

Claire could tease her over absolutely anything.

--

The rest of the morning passed quietly.

There was no need to rush.

Unlike yesterday, nothing remained to be chosen.

Every decision had already been made.

Around noon, the four of them met in Rosemont Hall’s dining room for lunch.

Amelia and Eleanor arrived together, both looking considerably more rested than they had the previous evening.

"Good afternoon," Amelia greeted warmly.

"You actually slept," Claire observed.

"Barely."

Eleanor smiled as she took her seat.

"I think everyone was tired."

The meal was simple.

Conversation drifted easily from classes to professors, to guesses about what their classmates would wear or who they might attend with later at the ball.

Claire did most of the talking.

Amelia listened with an amused smile.

Eleanor occasionally joined in.

Vivienne...

Found herself losing track of the conversation more than once.

"...Vivienne?"

She blinked.

"Hm?"

Claire smiled knowingly.

"You’re thinking about tonight again."

Vivienne looked down at her plate.

"...Maybe."

None of them teased her.

Instead, Amelia simply smiled.

"I think all of us are."

That made Vivienne feel slightly better.

Perhaps she wasn’t the only one counting the hours.

--

By the time they returned to their suite, the clock had already passed two in the afternoon.

A series of polite knocks echoed through the room.

The styling teams had arrived.

Garment bags were carefully carried inside.

Jewelry cases were arranged across the tables.

Hair tools.

Cosmetics.

Shoes.

Gloves.

Everything had already been organized according to yesterday’s final decisions.

Unlike Yesterday, no one asked for opinions.

There were no discussions.

No comparisons.

No uncertainty.

The stylists simply opened their notebooks and began recreating everything exactly as planned.

Vivienne settled before the vanity mirror while her stylist carefully gathered the first section of her hair.

The atmosphere inside the room was surprisingly peaceful.

The soft sound of brushes moving through hair.

Pins clicking gently into place.

Fabric rustling.

The quiet murmur of an occasional instruction.

"My lady, if you’ll lift your chin."

She did.

"Thank you."

The stylist continued.

Time seemed to move differently.

Not quickly.

Not slowly.

Simply...

Steadily.

--

As the familiar brushes swept lightly across her face, Vivienne watched her reflection.

The makeup looked exactly as they had finalized yesterday.

Soft.

Elegant.

Refined enough for an evening beneath crystal chandeliers, yet delicate enough that it never disguised the face beneath it.

She still looked like herself.

Only...

A slightly brighter version.

The stylist stepped back briefly before nodding with quiet satisfaction.

Lady Vivienne had never required dramatic cosmetics.

Among the students of St. Albion University, there were few who did not know lady Beaumont by sight.

Some admired her elegance.

Others simply spoke of her beauty.

In the original novel...

Vivienne Beaumont had often been described as the most beautiful young lady at St. Albion University.

Some characters had even claimed there was no beauty on the continent to rival hers.

Whether that was truth or exaggeration hardly mattered.

Makeup could not create beauty where it already existed.

It merely framed it.

Vivienne studied herself for another moment before smiling faintly.

She liked it.

Very much.

--

The preparations continued quietly.

One section of her hair was pinned.

Then another.

Her earrings were fastened first.

Moments later, the diamond necklace was carefully clasped around her neck.

The diamonds caught the light with quiet brilliance, illuminating her features with every subtle movement.

Rather than drawing attention to the jewelry itself, they seemed only to emphasize the beauty of the woman wearing them.

Each step brought the image they had created yesterday steadily to life.

And, with every passing minute...

Her thoughts wandered.

Tonight.

Anthony would come to Rosemont Hall.

Would he wait outside?

Or would he come into the entrance hall?

Would he already be there when she came downstairs?

What would she say first?

Good evening, Anthony.

...

No.

Too formal.

Hello.

Somehow worse.

Perhaps she should simply smile.

Yes.

That seemed safest.

Another thought appeared almost immediately.

Would he ask her for the first dance?

Her fingers twitched slightly against her lap.

Or...

Should she ask him?

She frowned.

The original Vivienne certainly would have.

Without hesitation.

Vivienne smiled to herself.

No.

That wasn’t her.

Besides...

If Anthony had already planned to ask, she didn’t want to steal the moment from him.

She sighed inwardly.

Anthony really was impossible to predict.

Then another thought surfaced.

What would he be wearing?

She remembered their conversation.

Blue and gold.

The traditional Ashford colors.

He had said they would complement emerald beautifully.

Had the stylists kept those colors exactly as they were?

Or had they quietly made small adjustments after speaking with one another?

She had no idea.

Somehow...

That uncertainty made her even more excited.

The novel had never described this Founders’ Ball.

Not anymore.

She no longer knew exactly what awaited her tonight.

And perhaps...

That was her favorite part.

--

Outside, the afternoon gradually faded into evening.

One by one, the stylists packed away their brushes and ribbons.

Final adjustments were made.

A sleeve was smoothed.

A strand of hair carefully tucked into place.

The emerald gown fell elegantly around her.

"...Perfect," her stylist said softly.

Vivienne rose from her chair.

For a long moment, she simply looked at herself in the mirror.

Everything they had planned yesterday...

Had become reality.

She took a slow breath.

Tonight...

She would attend the Founders’ Ball.

Not as someone reading The Duchess’s White Moonlight.

But as Vivienne Beaumont.

Someone who had already changed the story in ways even she could no longer predict.

--

A few minutes later, Claire, Amelia, and Eleanor also finished their preparations, each dressed for the evening.

For a brief moment, the four of them simply looked at one another.

Claire let out a soft whistle.

"We clean up rather well."

Amelia laughed.

"Everyone looks beautiful."

Eleanor smiled.

"We should head over."

Claire turned to Vivienne.

"Well... not you."

Vivienne tilted her head.

"Your escort will be here soon."

Amelia nodded.

"We’ll go ahead."

Eleanor smiled warmly.

"We’ll see you there."

The three of them headed toward the door.

Just before leaving, Claire glanced back.

"Enjoy your date."

Vivienne smiled.

"I intend to."

Claire laughed.

"I knew you’d say that."

The door closed behind them.

Silence settled over the suite.

--

Vivienne stood alone for a moment.

She glanced toward the clock.

6:30 p.m.

Then, after a while, her phone vibrated.

Vivienne looked down.

Anthony.

Her heart skipped.

She opened the message.

I’m on my way.

I’ll be there in a few minutes.

A smile spread across her face before she could stop it.

...

He’s coming.

She corrected herself almost automatically.

...

To escort me.

Because we’re engaged.

She knew that.

She truly did.

It changed absolutely nothing.

Her heart still raced.

Vivienne gently locked her phone before taking one last look at herself in the mirror.

It was time.

--

To be continued

AN: FINALLY.