A Taste of the Devilish Rake

My inspiration for Mendora's and Solaire's story

• Au/Ra- Panic Room

• Elley Dune-Middle of Night

• Tate McRae- Friends don’t look at friends that way

• Tate McRae- Stupid

• SHY martin- Make us never happen

• Tom Odell- Another Love

• The Neighbourhood- Softcore

• Zoe Wess- Control

• Ashe- Moral of the story

• Sam Tinnesz- Play with fire feat. Yacht Money

• AViVA- psycho

• Demi Lovato- Met Him Last Night feat. Ariana Grande

• The Neighbourhood-daddy issues (remix).

• Astrid S- Hurts so Good

• Aviva-Princesses don’t cry

• Faouzia- Tears of Gold

• Charlotte Lawrence- Joke’s on you

• Kat Dahlia-I think I’m in love

Chapter 1

The Bastille Ball 1815

It’s a perplexing notion that Mr. Aldrich Garrick’s eldest daughter was once considered the belle of the unmarried ton. This was the popular sentiment among the bored matrons at Lady Bastille’s annual ball. A discussion brought to life by the gossiping breath of Lady Hampton and her ward for the season, Lucinda Carrington, a distant relative of her husband. The exact relationship was yet to be revealed by the family and no one possessed the guile to question the notorious Lady Hampton. A single word from her has thrown numerous ladies in the depths of disgrace and humiliation.

“Her? Bulbous and repulsive?” said a miss Jaclyn Forrester, who twisted her face in the unseemliest fashion; quite improper for a young debutante in search of a husband. She was already quite an unpopular choice among the males this season. The reaction fell in line with the sight of the Garrick’s entering the achromatic ballroom. All the women in the circle turned their attention to the family. Aldrich Garrick was absent, yet no one had to actually hazard a guess at his true occupation on such a night. His daughters, Mendora Agnus Garrick, the elder of two children, and Teresa Alicia Garrick were led in by their mother Lavinia Garrick. She may not look it now but in her day, Lavinia was quite the eye turner. Her match to Aldrich Garrick was entwined with scandal and envy. But events, like all things, fade with time and soon after her marriage and subsequent birth, the ton was off on the next big scandal.

The womens’ strides were purposeful and unwavering; their gazes strong and unyielding as they glided across the snowy floor and towards the very group that dared to utter gossip.

“Well dearest, she didn’t always appear as such.” Mrs. Forrester advised her daughter in a hurried manner.

“That’s right! I recall two seasons ago she could have had her pick of the men. They all rushed to court her.” Lady Hampton declared, devoid of the any of the politeness that afflicted Mrs. Forrester. “It’s even more perplexing that the Garrick family deigned to be seen with her in polite society.” Her chest reverberated and her voice cackled in conjunction as she sniggered at her own drivel.

“I worry for the gentleman who dares to attach himself to her sister. Imagine they are both afflicted by such terrible circumstance.” The doting mother of another maiden, Lady Rosalind Barton shuddered at the thought of Teresa Garrick becoming a duplicate of her sister.

“Ah, Lavinia! It’s been too long!” Lady Hampton’s eyes shone mischievously as she greeted the family. There was no doubt in the minds of everyone present, including Lady Hampton, of the Garrick family overhearing most of the gossiping. As per tradition, however, if the family was offended no sign was offered for confirmation.

“Lady Hampton.” Lavinia Garrick curtsied and nodded in acknowledgement to the rest of the party.

“Are both your daughters out this season?” Lady Hampton angled her body to take note of the women hiding behind their mother. Mendora bit her lips and tempered her gaze to Lady Hampton’s face rather than her bosom. They overwhelmed her bodice, threatening to spill over by the slightest manoeuvre.

“Just my sister. I have no need for a husband and I daresay the popular opinion is that a husband has no need of me.” Mendora’s eyes momentarily locked with each member until her gaze settled decisively on Lady Hampton’s stormy gaze. Mendora pretended to be unaware of the doe eyed expressions of the other females. Their voices rushing out in hushed tones.

“Mendora, please accompany your sister for some punch. She has been complaining of thirst the entire carriage ride.” Lavinia interjected. Lady Hampton controlled the gossip in their society, being an elder socialite with much time on her hands and as it stood the Garrick family could weather no more storms.

“Please excuse me.” Mendora and Teresa curtsied.

Teresa interlocked her arms with her sister and giggled. “You know Lady Hampton will not stand for such humiliation.” Her eyes gawking at the crystal chandeliers dangling above head.

“Humiliation?” Mendora seemed appalled. “My dearest sister, I was merely agreeing with Lady Hampton’s assertions. Certainly that cannot be deemed disrespectful.”

Teresa glanced at her sister. She barely listened to Mendora’s words, her mind preoccupied with how pleasing her sister’s voice was to her ear. Everything Mendora said reminded her of a musical performance. Her eyes averted in consideration of her sister’s words, the ones she was alert enough to absorb anyway.

“Oh! Mendora, there is Sir Henry!” Teresa’s grip on her sister tightened and her voice climbed two octaves higher than usual. Mendora winced, coming to understand that their previous conversation was over before its chance at maturity.

“Sir Henry keeps a mistress in the country, Teresa.” Mendora pulled her sister towards the buffet table, wishing she could also drag her sister’s gaze away from the man. Sir Henry was an attractive male. If one was particularly drawn to disparaging eyes and one sided conversations about the sanctity of male superiority. Mendora resisted the urge to roll her eyes back at the mere thought of her family ever having to entertain such a libertine.

“But do you think that he would continue to lead such a life if he were to marry?” Teresa’s hope was strong, but not strong enough to persuade her sister.

“You cannot change him, Teresa. No woman can.” Mendora placed a glass of punch in her sister’s hands, her eyes communicating that there was no further room for discussion where Sir Henry was concerned.

“How am I to ever find a husband if all you do is disapprove?” Teresa slammed the glass down on the table, the orange liquid dancing chaotically. She averted her damp eyes to the other side of the vast room and its occupants awash in shades of emerald, amethyst and ruby; shades that were the rage this season. She trained her eyes to mirror the swirling couples as a distraction.

“Finding a husband is not a sport that can be gone about willy-nilly. It’s a decision that concerns your future existence.” Mendora’s voice soothed the turmoil in her sister enough for her to consider responding.

Teresa’s eyes narrowed and her mind was abuzz. Turning towards Mendora in a flurry she questioned, “Why do you go to such extremes to avoid attracting a potential husband?” Her eyes roamed her sister’s unflattering frock. The gown engulfing her body was an uncomplimentary yellowish hue that distracted any and every one from Mendora’s delicate features. Teresa never found herself wishing to be anything but herself, however, whenever she looked at her sister, she longed for her grace and good looks. Her sister was a beauty in disguise and Teresa always believed that if anyone dared to stare at Mendora long enough they, no doubt, would believe the same.

And the neckline! Her focus returned to the dress. It concealed Mendora’s long, slender neck in tacky brown ruffles that were two sizes two big. Teresa’s lips curled unsavourily the longer she scanned her sister’s appearance.

“Is the fact that I simply do not want a husband an inadequate reason?” Not that her lack of consent alone would dull the spark of the subject. That was why she hadn’t taken other extremes. Mendora was unperturbed by this line of questioning. She focused her attention on the single unoccupied corner of the room and thought of all the things she’d rather be doing. She suddenly longed for her mother to take over Teresa’s chaperoning so that she could sneak off into the garden; away from slanderous eyes.

“And what if you wake up one morning and decide that a family of your own would fulfil you?” Teresa was not ready to abandon this particular conversation.

“Then I’ll get one.” Mendora answered uncommittedly, shrugging her shoulders for emphasis.

“And how would you explain to a future husband that you alter your appearance to make fools of the ton?” Teresa felt herself growing annoyed. Probably unwarranted but what to expect from a female tormented by menses? She couldn’t be expected to be agreeable at all hours of the day.

Mendora’s instinct took over having finally comprehending Teresa’s cheeky reply. When the fog lifted off her sight she realised she’d taken hold of her sister’s arms. She turned about frantically for any indication of Teresa’s careless commentary being overheard. While that fear was dispelled, Mendora’s rash behaviour attracted the very attention she wished to avoid. Mendora released her grip of her sister and straightened.

“Thoughtlessness does not become you, Teresa. Do not be so reckless in the future.” Mendora hissed. It was a marvel that she was capable of steading her tone enough to whisper despite the innate annoyance at the threat of her secret being publicized.

Teresa stared at her in defiance. “How long do you plan to wear that ridiculously disproportionately crafted contraption coupled with hideous gowns that are large enough for you to get lost in?” She hissed venom.

Mendora inhaled. “We can discuss this in the privacy of our home. I will entertain you no longer. Mother is approaching, you shall spend the duration of tonight in her company.”

Mendora stormed off as their mother joined in. “She’s your responsibility now.” Mendora commented in passing.

Lavinia stared after her elder daughter running off to some secluded respite. She sighed heavily and peered at her younger daughter in dismay.

“What have you done to annoy your sister now?”

Teresa refused to speak, twisting her mouth in disobedience. Lavinia shook her head and plastered a smile on her face. “Look alive child and wipe that insolent façade of your face,” she advised through gritted teeth, “I believe Sir Henry is making his way over here.”