From their seat in the grand parlor room, the music was far more faded. Painted cherubs smiled at them from the ceiling, and a great fireplace rawed, as if Lord Ectary indeed wished to melt them like wax figures.
Jewel's hung around Lady McConnely's neck, those to rival the Queen's themselves, and her graying hair sparkled with a hairnet of rubies, appearing if she had crimson blood splattered all throughout her finely done bun. She reigned high of the most prestigious in this room, seperated off from the rest of the party for certain "class reasons". Gazing about, she wondered where her son had run off to.
"...now the White girl is a pretty one. I wouldn't be suprised if she married slightly over their class." said Mrs. Hadway, speaking of the exact woman in which Lady McConnely's son danced.
"You mean the youngest?" she replied.
"Indeed-Miss. Marianne," Mrs. Ledwig raised one of her painted-on eyebrows. "The others are not worth looking at or even discussing. Even out of their own class. I would be shocked if they didn't marry farmers! Or their own stable boys, for that matter."
"Does that not bring down your opinion of the youngest then, if she had such low-class family?" inquired Lady Schirm.
Lady McConnely answered smoothly, "Of course it does. Family is among one of the most important things to seek in a young woman. Miss. Marianne's family is....to my distaste and their lineage is not to the buyer's eye, so to speak." She took a delicate sip from the wine resting in her palm. "Why should we even discuss this younger one now? She is completely out of the league we play in, my Dears."