Minor Grievances
Eleanor charged into the dining room the letter clutched in her hand, crushed under her deathly grip. She slammed it onto the table in front of her father’s plate. He didn’t startle from his bacon and eggs, only glanced unceremoniously up at his daughter. She was seething. “Why did I just receive an owl about a courter’s ball, in my honor?” She crossed her arms over her middle, standing next to her father’s side.
“Spare me the melodrama Eleanor, it’s far too early for your antics.” He wiped his mustache with a cloth napkin, letting it fall back to his lap when he finished. Eleanor’s mother was seated at the other end of the large table. They ate breakfast in the formal dining room despite having a large enough house to not only have a breakfast room but a whole dance hall as well.
“Eleanor dear, it’s about time you find a suitable young man to court you.” Her mother’s voice flitted annoyingly.
Eleanor could think of far more important things to do during her first year after graduating Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was 1894, and she swore it would be her year. She was well on her way given her devotion to her studies in all seven years prior. And that was due to not devoting her time to frivolous relationships with men. “I don’t want to be courted, mother, I have far too many studies to tend to and-”
“That’s quite enough Eleanor, we’ve talked about this.” Her father’s stern tone made Eleanor shrink back. “Your mother and I believe it would do you good to have a serious courter in your life…to keep you out of trouble.”
A serious courter? You mean an engagement?” She gasped.
“Yes. An engagement. As you read in the letter we will be hosting suppers and balls to find you a young man to take your hand.”
“I can do that on my own.” She spat with indignation.
“Clearly we cannot trust your judgment as you are determined to make this family ridiculous.” The volume of his voice rose as he pushed back on the table and stood. He turned to her, figure looming and intimidating, “Be thankful that I am giving you this much leeway.” He shook his finger in front of her face. She wanted to slap it away, but she would never. She slumped into a chair at the table once he walked out of the room. Ridiculous. Only because she wanted to be a woman with agency, with a life not tied to a man. She wanted to make her own future, live her own destiny. And somehow that made her father look incapable of raising her right. He should be proud, the voice not belonging to her, but to a fond friend rang in her mind.
“Look on the bright side dear, you’ll get many new pretty dresses for the occasion.” Her mother, painted like a Monet, intended to be hung and admired from afar. A vision of the future she was destined for. Her mother was never very deep, she did not possess the ability to care very deeply about anything. Certainly not Eleanor’s emotions. “Yes Mother. How splendid.” Her mother smiled, poking at her poached egg once more. Eleanor poured herself a cup of tea. Two sugars, no cream.
After her breakfast she took to her study to begin writing to her friends about the events that transpired since summer holiday had begun. Namely the courting situation. She had just begun to scribble out her first sentence when a loud thunk at the window in front of her desk startled her. An owl she knew very well sat on the ledge with a scroll in her beak. Eleanor unlatched the window letting the bird come inside. “Well hello, Nevis, dear.” She gave the little brown speckled owl a few pats on the head before taking the scroll. On the parchment was the neat scrawl of Ominis Gaunt’s magic quill. Despite being self-writing, the quill carried Ominis’ personality onto the page. Her heart leapt at seeing it so soon after their last good-bye. He had said he would write to her, for some reason she thought he would forget.
My dear Eleanor, I do hope you are well.
I have received an invitation to something called a “Courters Ball”. It seems your father has spared no time in making your fears come true. It is my intention to attend this event, and any following, as your friend. If it is your wish that I stay away please do tell me. If you do in fact feel as you did this last spring, that being, mortified at the prospect of an engagement so early, then we shall figure it out…together. I will not leave you alone in this. Nor will Sebastian. He received his invitation shortly after I did. His scheming face has put worry into my bones. As you can probably imagine. Please write back as soon as you read this. I will be awaiting your letter.
Yours, Ominis.
His words nearly brought tears to her eyes. Of course he would be there for her. She could never doubt the fierceness of his friendship.
Dear, Ominis
It was to my greatest pleasure to see Nevis flying into my window. (That bird has not improved upon her landings) Your letter finds me in a state of shock I’m afraid. It’s good to know that invitations have already made their way to “eligible suitors”. Now I know my fate is sealed. I will have to go through with this truly insulting circus to appease my family. I know you can sympathize with my grief. You would be doing me the greatest service indeed if you choose to attend. I do not know how I will survive without the face of a friend. Sebastian too, of course. I have not seen a list of the men, but I can only imagine it is full of familiar faces. Some not as welcome as yours. I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Love, Eleanor.
She rolled up the scroll after the ink had dried and the read-aloud-charm had been set and then placed it in Nevis’ beak. The owl had been napping in a pile of seed moments earlier. She took it and flew out of the window with a small chirp, happy to be returning to her beloved owner. Eleanor returned the sentiment. Ominis had been her dearest friend since their third year at Hogwarts. They understood each other in ways not many could. Their complicated home lives, the crushing weight of family duty and weary personalities made them a perfect match. Eleanor understood his severe nature, his inability to trust easily and his brutal wit. In many ways, Ominis Gaunt was like looking in a mirror. They got along so well Sebastian often commented on feeling like a third wheel. When Eleanor won over Ominis she won Sebastian too. Second only to Ominis in loyalty. Sebastian was her fiery, passionate and loving friend. A boy who could bring chaos to the calmest of seas. She welcomed his spirit into her life as the kind of chaos she didn’t mind. He had been a teacher and an equal the past four years. All three of them were a force to be reckoned with. And Anne. Sebastian's twin sister. Eleanor had taken no time falling in love with the female Sallow. They became fast friends after Ominis introduced them. Eleanor thought of her as she took out another sheet of parchment. Maybe she should write to her as well. She thought better of it. If Sebastian was scheming, Anne would do much worse with the information. Her three friends conniving together? World ending.
Soon after finishing up in her study Eleanor was greeted by her younger sister. Penelope. Fifteen years old, and too clever for her own good. Beautiful too. “Mother says I am to retrieve you for an outing to the clothier. For new gowns.” Penelope's brows wiggled at the last word. She no doubt found it amusing. She didn’t take much of anything seriously.
Eleanor put on her coat and hat and joined her sister and mother in the carriage to town. It was only a few blocks from their manor, and a proper family never used brooms or floo for such short distances. That was for commoners her father would say. It was a show of wealth to have carriages and thresterals at your disposal at all times.
“When I’m Eleanor’s age will I get a ball too?” Penelope sat next to her, their mother opposite the two of them. “If she marries well enough you might not need one.” Penelope pouted slightly. Eleanor didn’t catch the full meaning of what she said. She didn't care to waste the effort dissecting it. Social standing is all that ever mattered to her mother. She hadn’t married for love, and she doubted her mother cared if she did. Money, power, connections. That's all she ever talked about. But of course if Eleanor wanted those things without a husband, she was ridiculous, a fool, a dumb child, an embarrassment to the Feldwing name. She used to carry her shame chained to her back, but long ago she unshackled it in favor of letting it rest in the bottom of the black lake. Shame is the curse of humanity.
Francoise’s fanciful fashions was situated in the middle of a long string of shops in the middle of town. Outside the shop was brightly painted and decorated like a fancy cake. On the inside was the largest selection of fabrics, trims and jewels that London had to offer. The Feldwings spared no expense when it came to garments. Eleanor could admit she enjoyed dressing in fine clothes, she had an eye for design and could appreciate the artisanship in each look. However, she found her mother's excessive care of appearance vain and exhausting. Merlin forbid she wear one of last year's ball gowns. They were perfectly in style and sitting in her wardrobe taking up space. As the ladies entered the shop, Lady Maxima Ladue emerged from the little back room, draped in measuring tape and lace fragments. “My dears!” She sang in her boastful voice. “It’s been too long.” She embraced Eleanor’s mother, then Penelope. Finally she made it to Eleanor, but instead of a hug the seamstress grabbed hold of her and hauled her onto a platform in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors. “You my darling, are in need of gowns I hear.” Wasting no time Lady Maxima began to take her measurements. Nevermind Eleanor had just been in the store only a few weeks prior for a new summer skirt and blouse.
“Eleanor is hosting a courter's ball,” her mother gushed. Penelope wandered off to the ribbon section.
“Oh how exciting.” The seamstress’ tongue poked between her lips as she took her last few measurements. Her wand waved in the air as she directed the tape around Eleanor’s arms.
“Six gowns?” She asked. “Six!” Eleanor exclaimed, thinking it exorbitant.
She watched her mother ponder over the question, “Better make it seven, Maxima. Eleanor can never have too many dresses.”
There was no arguing once her mother made up her mind. Helena Feldwing was not a woman who backed down.
Three hours of going back and forth over fabric, style, trim and lace. Eleanor finally left the shop with Eight new dresses ordered. The extra was a gift from Lady Maxima. She insisted she make something special. Eleanor guessed it was a bribe so they would choose her to make Eleanor’s wedding dress when the time came. Penelope, Eleanor and their mother stepped onto the cobbled streets and headed towards the waiting carriage. A flash of red hair caught Eleanor’s attention when they turned the corner. Suddenly, standing in front of them was none other than Bertha Prewett, Leander Prewett’s mother. And next to her Leander’s younger sister, Matilda. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise seeing you ladies here.” Bertha’s red hair glinted in the summer sun. The same red her son donned. “Lovely to see you Bertha.” Eleanor’s mother plastered a smile on her pristinely done up face.
“We just received Leander’s invitation this morning. He is so honored to be invited. And so excited.” Bertha’s eyes flashed to Eleanor.
Eleanor felt her breakfast lurch into her throat. She swallowed hard to keep from spewing on Mrs. Prewett.
“Eleanor looks forward to his presence.” Her mother spoke for her when it was clear that Eleanor would not be entertaining her fantasy. The Prewetts and The Feldwings were on the same level. They both stood to gain if there was a union. She had heard it from Leander many times. In fact many of her male classmates talked of it. She was from a powerful family. And power played games with people’s lives. The Prewett’s were looking for a prize. The Feldwings had Eleanor. Eleanor had no control. She wasn’t going to marry Leander. He was an insufferable coward and a sore loser. If she was looking for a husband he would be the last person she would consider. In fact as she thought about what she would look for, Ominis came to mind. His traits appealed to her. His kindness, intelligence and emotional capacity as well as his easy charm. Indeed, someday, he would be a fine husband for some very fortunate young woman. Eleanor did not acknowledge the sting in her heart at that thought.
After saying farewell to the Prewett women, Eleanor and her companions got back in their carriage and rode to the manor in silence.