1884

"Pull tighter," I said to my maid, Emily. I particularly wanted the strings to be tight in back of the corset. It was my first season as a debutante, and I would be damned if I would allow Lizzie Winters to have the smallest waist.

"I'm trying," said Emily. We heard a 'pop' and realized the corset had broken.

"Fetch another," I said.

Emily sighed.

"If it is a problem, there are many girls who would love to be hired as my personal servant."

My lady's maid bowed her head. "I am sorry Miss Clara," she said. "I will quickly bring you a new corset."

I gazed at my opera gown, which was lying on the bed. It was light pink silk with a daring neckline. I had two goals: number one was to be the prettiest debutante at the opera, and number two was to be the prettiest debutante of the season.

There was a knock at my bedroom door.

"Hello?" I said.

"It's me, dear. May I come in?" It was my mother.

I rolled my eyes. "If you must," I replied.

Mother came in and looked appalled. "Why aren't you dressed for the opera?"

I frowned. "Emily broke my corset."

"What?" said mother. "We are paying her enough that she should not be in the business of breaking corsets. Do you want me to speak to her?" I did not want this. I knew that I was a difficult task master, and that no other maid in New York city would apply for the position.

"It is okay, mama," I said. "I'm afraid I've tired her out with all the preparations for the opera."

My mother smiled. "Very well, Clara," said my mother. "Remember that you only have an hour to get ready. Then, Aunt Elizabeth will accompany you in father's coach."

I ran a hand through my hair. It was long, blonde, and thick. Emily would have a difficult time arranging it into a suitable hair style for the opera. "Do I really need a chaperone, mother?"

My mother snorted. "Of course you do. Every debutante must have a chaperone. Remember last season, when Bridget Nelson had a quick marriage?

I said that I did. It had been the talk of the season.

My mother continued. "She was four months pregnant when she married. To a man of low income, I might add." Mother shuddered. "All of the scandal could have been avoided, if Bridget had a chaperone."

"Yes, mama," I said.

"Now," said my mother, holding out her hands, "I want you to wear these pearl combs in your hair tonight. They will bring out the color of your eyes and hair, beautifully. She picked up the pink silk dress on the bed. This is what you are planning on wearing tonight?"

I was afraid mother would say the dress was too low cut. Instead, she said, "It is perfection. You will be the belle of the opera."

"Thank you, Mama," I said, giving her a hug.

"You are quite welcome, dear," she said. "Have a good time at the opera tonight, but be careful. Men can easily make promises of marriage they don't mean, just to--"

"I know mother," I said. "I will be careful. Aunt Elizabeth will be the perfect chaperone." What I didn't say was that Aunt Elizabeth was ninety years old, and likely to fall asleep, at any moment, during the opera.

"I'll be off then," said mother. "Just send Emily, if you need anything from me." As soon as mother left, Emily returned with a new corset.

"Here is another corset," said Emily, smiling. 'It is one of the new ones your mother brought you from France."

I returned Emily's smile. "Thank you. "I'm sorry that I did not speak kindly to you, earlier."

Emily looked at the floor and blushed. "Thank you, Miss Clara," she said. After she helped me with the new corset, we worked together to fit the new pink dress over my shoulders.

"Oh, Miss Clara," said Emily. "You look lovely."

I grinned. "Thank you. Would you do my hair up, with the pearl combs on the dresser?"

"Of course," said Emily. "I will leave some of your hair down, around your face. Is that okay?"

"Whatever you think is best," I said. I flipped through one of mother's magazines, and saw that the latest dress styles were influenced by France.

When Emily finished my hair, she said, "look"! I stared at my reflection in the mirror and saw a sophisticated, beautiful young lady staring back at me.

"Thank you, Emily," I said. "I will remember to increase your wages. I will need your help a great deal, during the coming-out season."

Emily bowed her head. "Thank you, Miss Clara."

I could hear Aunt Elizabeth, below us, talking about her favorite horse, Oliver. Mother and I always joked that she loved horses more than people. I slipped on my shoes and slowly made my way down the stairs.

"Clara!" exclaimed Aunt Elizabeth. "You are a vision. Simply a vision." She turned to my mother. "Isn't Clara just breathtaking? Even prettier than Snowdrop." By Snowdrop, she meant a new horse she had acquired.

"Thank you," I said. Internally, I rolled my eyes.

My mother grimaced. "Have a good time, you two," she said. "Enjoy La traviata."

Aunt Elizabeth and I stepped outside, and into my father's coach. My father was away in business in Italy. My mother and I rarely saw him these days.

Inside my father's coach, Aunt Elizabeth asked: "How is your father? Even when he was a boy, he was restless. Just like my favorite horse, Buckley. However, your father definitely isn't a horse!" My aunt snorted. "Do you know when your father will return?"

I looked out the window. He says he'll be home in time for Christmas.

"How lovely!" said Aunt Elizabeth. After about 15 minutes of my aunt's prattling, she fell asleep. I exhaled with relief. I thought about the opera, and wondered if it was possible that I would meet a handsome man I liked. My father joked that my future husband should be rich, to keep me in the fashionable dresses I fancied. The coach came to a sudden stop.

The driver said, "We're here."

Aunt Elizabeth awoke with a start. "Where are we?" she said.

I smiled. We are at the opera, remember? La traviata.

"Oh yes," said my aunt. "Did I ever tell you about that Italian count I dated? He was handsome and rich, but wanted to kiss me at our first outing!" I told my father, and he had the man horsewhipped."

"That sounds terrible!" I said.

"No, it wasn't terrible, nodded Aunt Elizabeth. "It was justice."

I sincerely hoped that my aunt would fall asleep again. I would never meet any handsome men if they had to go through Aunt Elizabeth to meet me.

We stepped out of the coach and walked up the stairs to the opera house. Our seats were close to the stage, because my mother had paid for this.

"You want to be noticed by the right kind of people," she said. I wasn't sure what she meant by that. Did she mean the sort of people that would be impressed by people with money, or opera devotees? I was confused.

As we sat in our seats, I noticed that the stage was lavishly decorated. I had never been to an opera before, and was very excited.

"Excuse me, miss," said a male voice. "I would talk to your chaperone, but she seems to have fallen asleep." Aunt Elizabeth was, indeed, snoring.

"May I know your name?" said the voice. I looked up into the most handsome face I had ever seen. His eyes were large and blue, while his hair was curly and brown. When he smiled, I could see two symmetrical dimples, one on each cheek.

I grinned. "My name is Clara. Miss Clara Travers."

My new friend grinned back. "My name is William. William McCain."

I held out a gloved hand, and Mr. William McCain shook it. "Nice to meet you, Mr. McCain," I said.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said. "But, please, call me William. I insist."

"Well, William," I said. "May I ask where you are seated?

William grinned. "It just so happens that I am seated next to you."

I glanced at Aunt Elizabeth, who was still snoring.

"I take it that the woman who is sleeping is related to you?" he asked.

I sighed. "You would be correct. Anyway, I hope you don't think it forward of me, but I feel lucky to be seated next to you."

As William sat down, he said, "luck had nothing to do with it. I hope you don't mind. I bribed the usher to seat me next to you."

I blushed and waved my fan. "No, I don't mind. Again, I don't mean to be forward, but I am finding your company charming."

William beamed. "Then I did not waste my money," he said.

The opera began, but Aunt Elizabeth seemed to be in a mild coma.

William was fluent in Italian and translated the opera for me. When he got to the part about the female singer being a courtesan, I turned beet red.

"If you don't mind me saying," said William, "your cheeks have turned a most attractive shade of red. I would like to say more things to you that cause your cheeks to turn crimson."

I pursed my lips. "Mr. McCain, that would not be appropriate." I glanced at my aunt, but she was still snoring softly.

"Very well," he said. "I will say whatever you deem appropriate."

"Then, I think we will have a very enjoyable evening," I replied.

"Again, said Mr. McCain, "I hope you deem what I say appropriate, but could I call on you, tomorrow afternoon, at your house?"

Aunt Elizabeth was sleeping on the shoulder of the elderly gentleman next to her.

"I think that would be very appropriate," I said, "if you were to call on me tomorrow afternoon. I will warn you that you'll have to meet my mother."

"I can think of nothing better," said William McCain.

"Mr. McCain, you haven't met my mother, yet," I said. "If I were you, I would be very afraid."

"Please call me William," he said. "There are many things I am afraid of, but mothers are not one of them."

"I shall look forward to meeting you, and your charming mother."

I smiled, thinking of the meeting between my mother and William.

"Why are you smiling?" said William.

"Nothing," I said. "I just find you completely charming."

"I find you completely beautiful," said my new acquaintance.

My face turned red, again.

"I wish you could see how wonderful you look," said William.

The corners of my mouth turned up. "Then, again, I will look forward to seeing you tomorrow."