The Viscount’s Daughter

A historical short story of longing and feeling trapped in a role you were born into.

The year is 1816 and we find our heroine, Miss Abigail Bentley still asleep in her queen-sized bed, the curtains of the four-poster drawn to keep out the sun that peaked through those of her large window. She dreams of a young man with thick brown hair and a handsome smile, his blue eyes sparkling with good humour as she teases him. The dream comes to an unfair and rather sudden end as Abigail is awoken by the sound of a loud knock on her door.

Without waiting for an affirmative reply, the door swings open, and her mother, a stern looking woman with high cheekbones and greying honey blonde hair storms inside. Her face is a picture of disapproval, her lips pressed tightly in consternation.

“Good heavens child!” She exclaimed and in a rather cruel move, snatched the blankets right off her daughter. “Why are you still in bed?! The Wentworth’s ball is tonight, and you have suitors to entertain in the morning room in less than an hour!”

Abigail shuddered at the sudden lack of warmth and gave her mother a petulant look. “Do I have to? I don’t find any of those men particularly interesting in the least”.

Her mother glowered at her but didn’t get a chance to lecture her as Abigail's personal maid entered her chambers, looking unsure as to whether she should be there or not. “And why are you not in here helping her already?!” Eleanor snapped at the poor member of their staff.

“I-I did try to wake her earlier ma’am, but she wouldn’t wake up”, Her maid, Bridget, stammered nervously. Most of the staff treaded lightly when it came to the lady of the house. She had fired members of their staff for even the slightest, silliest provocations. Abigail thought her mother a rather impatient and unrelenting employer to say the least.

“Don’t blame Bridget, Mother, it’s all my fault”, Abigail said quickly, hoping to take the heat off her maid. She didn’t want Bridget to be fired, the woman was one of her closest confidants and secret friends and besides, it really was her fault that she wasn’t up sooner.

“Just get her dressed and make sure she’s down for breakfast within the next twenty minutes”, Eleanor demanded before sweeping out of the room in a flash.

Without argument, Abigail sat at her vanity and allowed Bridget to braid her auburn hair into a flawless updo. She then picked out a day dress in a lovely shade of sage and allowed her maid to fasten her into her corset and her underlayers before slipping into said dress.

Knowing she had suitors coming, she made sure to slip on some satin gloves before heading to the drawing room on the second floor.

As she entered, her mother sat at the large round table beside her father. The viscount was busying himself with that day’s copy of The Times and his wife, sipped her tea daintily while giving her daughter an expectant look. She sat beside her and began to nibble on the biscuits the cook had left out for her. “Do make sure you don’t get crumbs on your gown, darling”, her mother scolded her. “Your first suitor should be along shortly”.

Abigail hoped that all the men came down with a sudden bout of the flu.

Sadly, it wasn’t long after she’d eaten her last biscuit that the first gentleman caller came. It was a rather old man with a big belly but an earl title that her parents were eying covetously. After some painful small talk, the Earl of Coventry finally departed. But then came Misters Forbes, Raleigh, Battenburg, and a Viscount Halifax.

“Have you given any thoughts to the Earl? He could offer you a comfortable life, a title, and with his age, you probably wouldn’t have to lie with him for long”, her mother said encouragingly.

“He is a very respectable man”, her father agreed.

A very respectable man would be looking for marriage prospects closer to his own age, Abigail thought derisively. He just wants to use her for an heir and a trophy to hang off his arm. There was little to no chance that she would find happiness with a man like that.

“I’ll think about it”, she said, unable to give an outright refusal to her parents.

Later, it was time for the Wentworth’s summer ball. Abigail dressed in a gown of a regal burgundy with glittery flowers stitched artfully across the bodice. Her gloves matched perfectly and she wore a delicate bejewelled headband.

“Oh, you look lovely”, Lady Eleanor gushed. “You’ll be sure to fill up your dance card in no time”.

Unbeknownst to her mother, there was only one person that young Miss Abigail Bentley wished to dance with. But that was impossible. She sat in her family’s carriage with a forced smile, clutching her burgundy shawl tightly around her shoulders to keep the chill-out. Her parents talked quietly about the chances of the Earl of Coventry offering his hand and she closed her eyes and pretended she was somewhere else.

In her wildest imagination, Abigail lay down in her family’s garden beside a handsome young man, whose thick hair curled across his forehead most adorably. Two dimples filled his cheeks when he smiled at her that he saved just for her. Their hands held tight to one another as if the world itself could not keep them apart.

If only that were true, Abigail thought with great sadness as she came out of her musings when the carriage came to a halt.

As she stepped into the large, formal hall of the manor after her parents, Abigail made sure to plaster on a perfectly feigned smile. She was sure to remember her manners and courtesy for the gentlemen she was forced into civil conversation with, men who could not hold a candle to the one who held her heart.

Abigail accepted many a dance half-heartedly and did the steps as if she was merely a horse being driven by its insistent rider. By the end of the night, she had danced with nearly every young man at the ball and, some not so young, that she was pushed towards by her mother. By the time the ball was over, Abigail was all danced out. Still, she knew if he were to ask her, she would not hesitate to spare one more dance just for him.

The young debutante followed her parents out of the Wentworth’s large house as guests began to depart. As she headed towards the carriage, her eyes went to one of her family’s youngest footmen. With a thick head of brown hair and a handsome face, his sparkling blue eyes met her green. Her breath caught in that moment as she realized no man would ever compare to him.

But he was just the footman, and she was a Viscount’s daughter. They were not meant for happily ever after and she was forever trapped in her gilded cage of nobility, no chance of escape, no way to ever spread her wings or soar.

Thank you for reading this short, historical story, It gives you a look through a window at the life of a young lady and the less glamorous aspects of being born into nobility.

Would you like to see more historical fiction and short stories? Do any historical periods pique your interest? I admit I got quite inspired during our short stay in Bath whilst traveling to Cornwall! Check that out below as well as my other writings.

Make sure to clap, comment, and follow! If you comment, I’ll make sure to check out your work as well! I love seeing other author’s works.

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