This post is part of StoryADay May (https://storyaday.org/) #StoryADay #StoryADayMay @storyadaymay #freeshortstory #Caturday #cats #catsofinstagram #cats_of_instagram #blackandwhitecats #Chickie #MamzelleChickieLaSilk
After The Cotillion
Mademoiselle Chickie la Silk wasn’t at the cotillion, of course. She was of the demi-monde, and so not fit to be admitted to the houses of the high ton. She could be found most evenings, though, in public places frequented by those at the fringes of polite Society, rubbing elbows with younger sons of Earls, grand-daughters of generals (the racy girls who painted their toenails), top-tier horse breeders, and whatever bare-knuckle boxers were in favor with the betting set.
It was there than she heard of the blood feud between Lord Snowbottom and Lady Fluffington. All of Society was abuzz with the display they had made of themselves at the cotillion, and how the Queen had spoken sharply to both of them.
The mademoiselle had known Lord Snowbottom since she was a child. She well remembered his patience with a rambunctious tom-boy, and the shock she had felt when he had told her she had become too old to make so free with a grown gentleman. She had been born with no pedegree, yet the kindness of householders had made her unfit for life in the wild. It had seemed inevitable that she had gravitated to owning a card parlour, where her reputation was both unwarranted and irredeemable.
A stir indicated that something surprising was happening, a stir that quickly died down, for displaying an abundance of any reaction was, of course, bad form.
People returned to their drinks and their cards, the men to their cigars, as Lady Fluffington herself sailed into the room, casting about for admiration and surprise.
She seemed satisfied that she had an abundance of both, although it was hidden beneath impeccable good manners.
Mademoiselle la Silk had murmured a word in the ear of an Earl’s son, who had drawled something to his oldest brother, who had made a jest to his brother-in-law, who had grumbled about impertinence to his wife, who had giggled the shocking suggestion to Lady Fluffington, and Lady Fluffington had been intrigued. She had taken the meandering dare and had shown up at la Silk’s card parlour, several male acquaintances escorting her for the sake of propriety.
Lady Fluffington accepted a glass of champagne and sat at a suddenly empty table.
Mademoiselle Chickie sat opposite her. “Shall we play piquet?” she asked.
“Only if Boone shuffles and deals,” said Her Ladyship, implying that she didn’t trust her hostess’s probity.
Not as stupid as she looks, thought Mademoiselle la Silk.
Boone shuffled and dealt, la Silk motioned a footman to keep Lady Fluffington’s glass topped up, and the ladies played. Victory went back and forth for several hands, then Lady Fluffington began to lose. After every loss, Mademoiselle la Silk suggested the play stop, but Her Ladyship set what chin she had firmly and insisted the game continue. No doubt it was unthinkable to her that she should lose to a nobody like this guttersnipe in fine clothing.
As the pearly gray of dawn tinted the windows, Lady Fluffington’s chief escort pressed her shoulder. “We must go, My Lady.”
Lady Fluffington was down by thousands. Far from a fortune to someone with her resources, but more than she had brought with her. She detached a jeweled brooch from her bodice and tossed it onto the table.
“I trust this will do?” she said.
Mademoiselle Chickie la Silk nodded graciously and left the Lady and her escorts to see themselves out.
That evening, Mademoiselle Chickie welcomed her old friend Lord Snowbottom to her parlour. When she served him a cup of tea (for he never drank alcohol when he gambled), he found a jeweled brooch in his saucer.
He picked it up and examined it, lifting an eyebrow as he recognized it.
“Well,” he said. “Well, well.”
“Make of it what you will,” said his hostess, confident that he would.
MY PROMPT FOR TODAY: Y’all asked for a follow-up to last Caturday’s story.
MA
