William Bantock was a young, eligible gentleman from a highly esteemed family. His debut in Victorian society was second-to-none, and though nearly a disaster by virtue of his forgetting to don a handkerchief, William played off the absentmindedness of his manservant by expressing that he never had a runny nose in his life. It was a bold move, and it won him favor in his debut. He was dressed in a gold-buttoned coat of navy blue in the new style popular in London, along with striped pants and a gentleman’s top hat. The walking stick, a gift from his father, Sir Nathan Bantock, was spherical about the head and detailed with the likeness of a lion. The shaft was black—the boot, gold. Before the debut, his mother, Dame Louise Bantock, fussed greatly over his shoes, insisting they had not been adequately polished, yet conversely, she had been the one insisting that a man’s debut in society was less important than a lady’s debut. Having borne four sons, she was adamant on that fact.
William’s debut was at a house party held by the inimitable Mr. Grant Hughes, an influential politician. The party was being held to celebrate Hughes’s success in passing a landmark law, and he was a good friend of William’s father. As a bachelor unfamiliar with the strictest nuances of society, William went into the party with the intent to learn only. To be showy or ostentatious was out of the question, as was to be timid and reserved. His mother and father performed the first introductions, the most important of which was to Mr. Hughes himself. Then a friend of the family, a gentleman a little older than himself, took William under his wing to meet others of his ilk, allowing his parents to mingle and have the conversations they wished to have. As the night progressed, they watched William converse with satisfaction, ready to intervene, but only if it was the only way to save his position.
William was noticed by more than just his parents. In the main hall were a group of ladies who had made their debuts and had been paid visit by only the highest class gentlemen in the county. Such peerless ladies included Victoria Strauss, Ruth Huntington, and Sarah Meyer. Among them also was Marie Love, the youngest of the peerless ladies, an aristocrat, and the most recent debutante. Her attention had been waning throughout the evening, bored of the same tired gentlemen who appeared, to her, unwilling to commit. She knew enough to be patient, yet she was beginning to think that she may be waiting to be married for some time yet. Once she set eyes on William, however, Marie fell in love and desperately wished to meet him. She said none of this, yet the assembled ladies could tell at a glance that she was in love, and with the expertise known only to women, the ladies found exactly which gentleman had caught her eye. This they wove into their conversation, which at the time was about the qualities of a gentlemen that mattered most when choosing a husband.
“A gentleman must be well-dressed,” Ruth said. “Anyone can come from a respectable family, be wealthy, and young. But if he is a well-dressed man, then one may think of him as a potential husband.”
“It is very important,” Marie agreed.
“His attire must be bold,” Sarah said. “Audacious and unconventional, yet magnificent. The latest from London is navy and gold, and a good riddance I say to black and white! We are in an age of color now. A sewing machine can produce six suits of a different color in just one day.”
“It’s not just about the color of his fashion,” said Victoria, snapping her fan closed. “Nor is it only about his pedigree. We must consider his presence. A gentleman who carries himself as royalty without being a bore, pays visit to the select, and knows his tastes is more than suitable as a husband.”
As she was saying this, William had refused a glass of wine, which all the ladies agreed was ill-aged and poorly mixed, and was paying visit to Mrs. Hughes, the host’s wife. Marie now avoided looking at William at all, which only cemented the ladies’ collective intuition. The conversation turned to other things, but through a network of nods and glances, William Bantock was brought to their ring and introduced. He bowed and spoke his name to each lady, but on Marie he lingered, for she had caught his eye as well. Her hair, curly and held up in the latest fashion, and the glimmering of her eyes in the warm light pulled him in like only instant love can. He chatted with the ladies but, unable to stop himself from focusing unfairly on Marie, William eventually retreated with his friend.
“Marie Love is her name, is it?” William said. “That is what she has instilled in me: love. I must know if she is the one for me. I will ask her to dance. If I see what I believe I see in her eyes when we are close, then tomorrow I will go to her family’s house and ask for her hand.”
For the rest of the night, William and Marie waited for the formal dance. Marie declined offers for her first dance, knowing William would come to her as soon as the announcement was made, for he couldn’t visit her twice in such a short time. She saw him glance at her only once, but it made her heart flutter. The hour arrived after much delay and William took Marie to the dance floor. He only needed a glance to know what he saw in her eyes was love, and between the dreamy gazes neither could hide, hidden in the way he held her soft hand in his own, as simply as that, the matter was settled for both of them.
Sam Knight, Author 