The upper floor of the Angel Hotel had been decorated with flowers and little model boats as a reference to the regatta. Electrical lighting lit up the hundreds of lamps in the crystal chandeliers above. Pink silk curtains were elegantly draped around the full windows. As it was a muggy evening – sweltering heat had followed that morning’s rain –, these windows were opened, allowing guests to step out on to a terraced balcony from whence they could catch a glimpse of the vulgar party going on at Tate Hill Pier and feel better about themselves. It didn’t matter that the coarse tunes from downstream carried across the harbour and occasionally mixed with the elegant tunes of the orchestra inside; for how could the resulting dissonance instil anything in its cultured audience but gratitude for their own sophisticated tastes?
 
This fundraiser ball was only for the people who could afford it. At a table right by the stairs several philanthropic middle-aged ladies who weren’t interested in dancing or chaperoning daughters or nieces, selflessly dedicated their time to collect the ten shillings entrance fees. The expenses for the ball itself had already been covered by some of the wealthiest members of the local community. In one of the rooms a list displayed the names of contributors, such as The Right Hon Lord and Lady McPadraic, Captain Fintan McKenna and his wife the Vicomtesse Aurore McKenna, Lady Lailani McKenzie, and Mr. and Mrs. Ennington. A list right beside it allowed guest to warrant additional donations and stare at their own name the entire night. All proceeds of the event would go to charitable purposes, such as the education of the less fortunate the balcony dwellers sneered at.
 
The central, largest, and most elegant room served as ballroom. An orchestra that the Queen herself was said to endorse had been brought in all the way from London and was now playing a slow waltz. There was a table with food and drinks in an adjacent room to complement the staff walking around with trays. There were also tables and chairs for those who preferred to sit and talk. Yet another room contained Whitby and other paintings by local and international artists. A perfect location to exchange gossip or flirtations while pretending to admire art.
 
The chairman of the Regatta organizing committee had already held an opening speech – mercifully (or mercilessly) uninterrupted this time – and the chairwoman of the Angel Fundraiser Ball organizing committee had already formally opened the Ball, but elegantly dressed guests continued to arrive.

Archie was making his first appearance in some time. The distinguished gentleman made his way to the ball, gripping the head of his cane with an iron grip. His piercing dark eyes peered about as he made his way up to the top floor. And then his eyes were met with the glory of the decor and he was amused and delighted. The philanthropist was about to make a generous donation, but he wasn't sure where to go to do so. For now, he moved toward the accumulating crowd. His eyes would continue to roam about as he walked along.

Maxim was under the distinct impression that he was under obligation to show up to a ball he wanted no part of. The math nerd, while he liked dancing and such, tried to keep scarce around his family. He knew that he was fresh meat when it came to the young ladies in the area, and there were going to be marriage minded mamas about. Maxim would have preferred to be anywhere but where he was. A certain blonde held his fascination at the moment and he wondered what she was doing on this day of all days. The young man only sought to make his own mother happy on this day. He stood near the punch bowl.

Athanasia entered on her brother’s arm. She was dressed in sumptuous ball gown of purple and pink shot silk, liberally embellished with ruffles, beaded lace, and sequin embroidery. Her hair was arranged in a fashionable updo held up by diamond and amethyst pins. A multitude of perfect dark brown ringlets were left loose to cascade down her back. Her jewelry consisted of a necklace, bracelet, earrings, rings, and a tiara made of diamonds and amethysts.

Emilios looked glum as he escorted her into the ballroom. Athanasia had to convince him to attend. She was always trying to get him to live a little. Angelina had been gone for eight months now and it was time for him to move on. She hoped that someday he would marry again. His children needed a mother figure in their lives.

She looked around at the decorations. “Well, it’s nothing like the balls we attended in London, but I suppose it will do. I expect you to dance tonight, Emil, and not only with me.”

Emilios wished that he had stayed at home. Despite his sister’s insistence, he didn’t believe he was ready to participate in the social whirl again. It was good to get out of the mansion, though, and he would try to enjoy the evening for Athanasia’s sake. “I will dance with you, Anaisa, but I am not going to ask other ladies to take a turn around the floor.”

Athanasia looked up at him mischievously.  “What if they ask you?”

Emilios sighed. He took two glasses of wine from the tray of a passing servant and handed one to Athanasia. If he was going to get through the evening, he needed a drink. “We shall see, but I make no promises.”

Nettie managed to pay her way in, though she had wished her uncle could have met with the man she planned to meet tonight. He had been strangely absent or holed up in his room. She worked hard to get a dress sent from London and did some last minute alterations so it fit like it was made for her. It was a dark green number with black lace and it made her think of a forest at night. Blue would have matched her eyes but she wore it so often.

She touched at a feather that had become askew from the ride there and took a nervous breath. She worked hard to fix her hair and decorate it with some feathers and a couple of beads instead of fancy combs and the like. It wasn't as heavy and worked well for her shorter hair.

While the woman was expecting a wonderful evening spent with her friend, she worried she wouldn't find him. And she had planned to be up early to see her uncle before he did service, not realizing what he was getting up to due to the other party being held.

She looked around nervous and saw a few others, and then the man she'd come to see but he hadn't seen her yet. Doubt came to her but she took a deep breath before approaching him.

He couldn’t believe that damned doctor had turned him down! Him! Roderick Carrington! All because, what, his wife had been a tramp!?

So, there he was to restore his reputation by … existing. In a public space. He had no idea how to navigate a public space without his mother, nor was he particularly inclined, but he was there!

One of the smaller donations was from a … Christopher Hurley?