A Palace of Crystal
“What are you doing? Do not loosen those, young lady!”
“I can’t breathe!”
Joe West, her favorite servant, had a fierce glare on his face. His daughter looked amused by his side, but Barry Allen refused to look at her. Iris West could just go laugh herself silly.
“You must wear it,” Joe insisted. “It is only proper for a young lady of your station to look her best and to definitely not undress your corset in front of anyone, especially a servant or a male. Never mind both!”
Barry was close to saying she didn’t care, and was going to reach for the lacings of the corset behind her back when her mother strode in and waved them away.
“Must you always give everyone trouble? Even poor Joe, no matter how much he puts up with you,” Nora Allen’s carefully painted lips twitched up, as she gently pressed her daughter against her bed. “He’s right, of course. But you shouldn’t be so undressed in front of anyone in the first place, dear heart.”
“Can I avoid wearing this contraption then?”
“No, dearest. A woman must look her best, and well…you are getting on with age,” her mother said delicately. “We want you to look beautiful and so the suitors can come in droves.”
Barry wanted to make a face, but instead she gasped as her mother tightened the lacings behind her and the stays dug into her body.
“You could,” she let out another gasp, “be a little more gentler with those!”
Honestly, she was going to pass out at any second because of this damn torture device. She tried to move away from her mother, but Nora still had a handle on the laces and the movement away only caused them to tighten even more.
“And I am not getting on with age, Mother. I am only 24,” Barry grumbled. “That’s still young.”
But there were her contemporaries who had been married already, and at a much younger age. These days, young ladies were encouraged to marry at a young age, whereupon their husbands would be affluent, wealthy men who could easily provide for them and maintain the lifestyles each woman was accustomed to from birth.
“You’ll wear an evening dress, since by the time you’ll reach Lord Hartley Hathaway, it’ll be dark. Lady Walker has agreed to be the chaperone to your meeting,” Nora informed her.
“It won’t work,” Barry huffed. “And after Hartley, you’ll send in Eddie, and after Eddie you’ll push Ollie onto me. I like them enough –well maybe not Hartley –but I refuse to marry any of them.”
“Just try to find a spark, dear heart,” Nora said in exasperation. “And who knows? Having a husband who was friends first should be a good thing.”
Like Barry wanted to get married, even to any of her friends. Once she’d married, all of her rights were given over to her husband. He would get her money, every single right to her mind, property, earnings after marriage…Even her body was completely and utterly his. She’d have no right to say no to him.
Why in the bloody hell would she ever agree to get married? Her mother and father –and everyone else! –must be mad to think she’d want to marry anyone.
“I will try,” she told her mother halfheartedly.
Nora hmmed, not truly believing her, but she didn’t push it. “I will wait for you downstairs with your father. Iris will help you finish up, but don’t take too long.”
Her mother left and Iris came back in, still showing signs of amusement.
“Not a word,” Barry glared at her.
Iris laughed, moving to finish fixing her hair aft they’d gotten Barry into the rest of the dress. “Did I say anything? I didn’t. Although…Lord Hartley Hathaway isn’t bad looking. And he is not like his father, the Lord Hathaway.”
“Neither Hathaways are a catch,” Barry scrunched up her nose. “And I’m pretty sure Hartley likes men.”
Iris almost bust out into gut-wrenching laughter, ones that would surely catch the attention of everyone there. She refrained and straightened out Barry’s nose in reprimand, starting to do last minute touches on the makeup.
“What of Lord Edward Thawne? Or the Lord Queen?” Iris asked curiously.
“Eddie’s just a good friend, and so is Ollie,” Barry insisted. She couldn’t possibly see herself married to either men, even though more than likely they would never treat her as most men would were they to marry her and had the usual attitude.
Iris finished and Barry led the way out the room. As they went down the stairs, Iris bid her good luck quietly, and they separated as Barry continued down and Iris stayed at the foot of the stairs. Joe joined her there, and Barry met with her father and mother.
“At least have a good time and enjoy yourself,” Nora handed Barry her dark red silk evening gloves.
“But not too much,” Henry Allen frowned, worried himself. His wife gave him a look and he gave a stiff smile to Barry. “Have a good time,” he reluctantly echoed Nora.
Barry gave them a strained smile, and then she was helped out of the house and led to a carriage. The door was held open and she carefully went into it. The door closed and she took a deep breath. She wasn’t looking forward to this at all.
The carriage started moving and she was on the way. She frowned as she noticed that after a while, the carriage started speeding up and moving faster than normal. She knocked at the closed opening that separated her from the driver, and was surprised when it opened to reveal someone she’d never seen before. It was definitely not her family’s usual driver.
“Sorry, love. We’re hijacking this carriage!” he grinned and winked at her with slate gray eyes. His top hat tilted off, showing his close shaven head. He righted it back on.
We?
A woman, somewhat similar to the man, duck her head closer to his and showed herself into the small opening.
“‘Allo! Sorry for the ‘venience, but my bruv and I are takin’ this carriage.”
Barry blinked, her mind starting to scheme. She grinned brightly at the thieves.
“It’s all yours! Just would you mind terribly dropping me off at the Crystal Palace? I would very much appreciate it.”
The siblings looked taken aback, before matching grins stole across their faces.
“Whatever you like, m’dear,” the man agreed easily.
“You are the guv, darlin’! If only other rich folks were like you,” the sister looked ecstatic.
This was Barry’s chance to go to the first ever World’s Fair. There would be so many interesting things being displayed there, and the building itself was said to be a magnificent work of art. Sir Joseph Paxton had boasted that it was 564 meters long and 39 meters high. It was supposed to have the most amount of glass ever seen in a building.
Barry had wanted to go there ever since she heard the Great Exhibition was going to be held in London.
~*~*~
Lord Harrison Wells wasn’t a very…usual man. As far as he was concerned, he was for revolution and evolution. He, unlike most of his contemporaries, was for the women’s movement. They certainly did a lot more for the world and for the household, and he’d never agreed with how much of their rights were taken away once they’d gotten married (they didn’t have much rights in the first place).
His friend, Dame Tess Morgan, had completely deserved much more credit to her name, but a woman in their field had a hard enough time entering it, much less thrive in the field of science. Then there’s Caitlin Snow, his personal doctor. A wonderful young woman who, under normal circumstances, would have probably been stuck as a nurse than to have made it on to becoming a full-fledged doctor.
“The exhibition went well,” Caitlin told him, smiling slightly.
Harrison smiled faintly as well. “It did. I’m glad, though I wish Dame Tess and Lord Raymond could have come.”
“Ronnie was disappointed that he couldn’t come as well,” Caitlin sighed. “But that Adolphe Wurtz had something of a breakthrough, and Ronnie and he are close to figuring out some sort of chemical reaction.”
“Indeed. Tess had been looking forward to the opening, but she’s currently holding seminars at the University of Paris. At least the World’s Fair will run all the way through to October,” Harrison mused.
“You should look around,” Caitlin said. “There seems to be a ton of interesting inventions on display. I heard Queen Victoria is even in attendance.”
“And you?”
She sighed. “I think I’ll return home. It’s late and I’m tired, and since I’m done for the day and not needed, I think I hear my bed calling out.”
Harrison laughed and bid her goodnight, and once she was gone he started to walk around in his own interest. The building was impressive in of itself. A gigantic structure made of wood, iron, and definitely glass, he thought that the name “The Crystal Palace” suited it. The playwright, Douglas Jerrold, had been spot on in his forethought, unmeaning to create a name for this building a year before that would catch on and most absolutely be aptly named in the end.
He turned the corner to where people were collected in a space, waltzing gaily through the area with their partners.
A most exquisite creature crossed his path.
The sweet scent of her perfume danced across his senses, and his eyes quickly followed the figure as she glided closer to the dance hall. She wore a dark red evening gown, with matching gloves that ended to just below her elbows. Her neckline was low and off the shoulders, but she wore a shawl around herself.
Harrison tugged at his turnover collar, feeling as if his necktie had been tied too tight all of a sudden.
She was a highborn lady. He could tell just by the way she held herself, and by the clothes she wore. The young woman was quite possibly –more than likely –hailing from a high-positioned noble family, and wouldn’t be interested in the likes of him. And yet…
His legs worked hard as he maintained a strong, fast stride towards her. He had to at least try to speak to her, if nothing else. And even if she rebuffed him, he at least would have been able to hear her voice.
“Excuse me,” he politely greeted her. “But I was wondering if the lady’s dance card was filled?”
She turned to him, a brief look of surprise flitting across her face before transforming into an amused one.
“And if I have no dance card to speak of?” she asked, voice playful.
He grinned to himself, glad to find her amiable to his presence.
“Then I shall have to beg a dance of you.”
He held out a hand and waited nervously for her, hoping she’d take it. And then, after a tense moment for him, she placed her hand in his. Without further prompting, he gently took her closer and began a waltz, moving into the crowd of dancers already dancing, and slipping seamlessly into the group.
“I don’t think I caught your name,” Harrison asked silently.
“I didn’t give it,” she answered back, her lips tugging upwards. “Might I have your name, good sir?”
“Lord Harrison Wells,” he told her quickly. He raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for her to give her name finally.
“Lady Berenice Allen,” she tilted her head down briefly. “You may call me Barry privately.”
His heart fluttered in his chest, and he couldn’t help whispering her name out reverently. “Barry.”
An involuntary flush took over her, and he smiled widely.
“Are you here alone, milady? Or have you come with someone?” Perhaps that was too bold, but he had to know. Was she married? Was she being courted already? They were already skirting around the social norms of conduct between two single people (if she were) and toeing the line when it came to what should be proper.
“It’s rather a long story,” she smiled slightly, and its appearance made him care less about social norms and propriety. “My carriage was hijacked as I was on my way to an unwanted meeting to a suitor, and I requested to the hijackers to at least take me here. The freedom, especially without a chaperone, has been invigorating.”
He chuckled lightly. “A strange tale indeed. But most fortunate, and almost fateful. Would we have met otherwise after all?”
“Why? Do you believe in destiny and fate, Lord Wells?” she asked curiously.
“I am a man of science,” he told her sincerely. “…But perhaps I have a weakness for the romanticism of the idea of such things.”
The glass ceiling above them showcased a bout of lights in the sky, as dozens of fireworks erupted amongst stars.
And if months passed as he successfully courted her and they became engaged, he would admit that he believed in fate a little.
She in turn would grouchily admit that marriage wasn’t such a bad prospect.