[Dalemain - Masquerade Ball] Social Season - The Secrets Ball (OPEN)

The Social Season - A Primer

The social season in British society is a time of the year when the elite of society hole balls, parties, and large charity events. Information on the Season can be found at these links:

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For Wizards and Witches social season was much the same as it was for muggles. As muggle social season has modernized in the 21st Century the customs of wizards decidedly did not. Social season was still widely practiced through the first Dark War. At the end of the 1970s with so many members of society heavily invested in the war events tapered off to focus on war efforts. With the defeat of The Dark Lord in 1981 large scale organized social events of pureblood and affluent wizards stopped almost completely. It was not until the mid-late 1980s that the Season began to reemerge amongst the well to do of society. However with the return of the Dark Lord and the division of Wizard Society events became more and more scarce. By the mid - late 1990s events had largely ceased as families were heavily invested in the war on either side. With the final defeat of the Dark Lord in 1998 pureblood and elite society members were faced with many challenges. Regaining social order and standing being one of the larger issues. As an attempt to return life and society to normal like minded families have agreed to attempt to revive their social season traditions for the spring/summer of 2000.

Season Event 1 - Masquerade Ball

It has been nearly 24 months since the defeat of The Dark Lord and then end of the war. Life in Britain was moving on for all and the newly established society was working harder than ever to ensure justice and equality for those previously marginalized during previous times. With these new freedoms it was also just that the old order was allowed to maintain their social customs and traditions so long as no laws were violated. After nearly two decades of wars the wizarding society, both dark and light, were ready for some return to normalcy. They were ready to put aside their politics at least in appearance for the sake of returning to social order. As such the elite of society had decided it was high time to revive the time old British tradition of a social season.

As one of leading voices for the group the Abercrombie family of Cumbria had volunteered their historic estate for the opening event, one they promised would be so lavish and enjoyable that feuding and politics would be forgotten amongst the merriment. It had been voted on by the organizing group that a masquerade ball should be the first event of the season. Fitting in a way, trading old masks, literal or metaphorical for ones meant as fun. A way to socialize with other elites and break the ice of society while still maintaining some distance as the group warmed to the idea of it all again. They’d also be collecting donations for the S.C.A.R.E charity as a means to give all the lavishness some purpose.

The event was to be held at the Abercrombie family estate in the Lake District of Cumbria. Dalemain, situated near Penrith, had been in the family for centuries. The historic home as it now stood was constructed for the most part in the Tudor eras. At one time the home had been a lively center of pureblood and elite socialization. The family’s extensive private library was widely used by scholars and friends, social events and parties were regular occurrences. But the politics and wars had eroded that and as it were hardly anyone had set foot inside the home apart from the family and their closest friends for at least 20 years. The stately home sat near the lake, shrouded in hundreds of acres of wilderness, carefully guarded from muggle and wizards alike. Apparition in and out of the property was impossible unless you wore a special family token or were of the blood. Great rumors existed about the home, that Tom Riddle had resided there to access the library, second only to Hogwarts’, while preparing for the first war. There were rumors that Death Eaters had resided there, that secret ministry activity took place there once the Dark Lord had seized power, and that the home was enchanted to trace activities inside it’s walls. Of course it was lore and the family would never comment on such things true or not. The fact was though that opening Dalemain to the public, be it just a small swath of it, was no small occurrence.

No expense had been spared and no stone left unturned for the event. For guests arrival was via two methods: portkey or apparation. Due to the ancient protections on the home guests’ arrival point was the Gate House, a small, home like structure that literally sat at the gates of the property. There lines of elegant carriages awaited them stocked with champagne, pulled by elegant horses ready to whisk the attendants up the long scenic drive to the house. Upon arrival guests would be ushered into the foyer of the home where attendants would see to checking their cloaks and personal items. Two photographers, one for the Prophet and one independent news photographer were allowed in foyer and no where else to capture the arrivals.  It had been of great debate but ultimately it was decided that the family portrait that hung in the foyer watching arrivals would remain. As guests entered a gorgeously dressed Abercrombie family, including the recently deceased Victoria, a decorated and dangerous Death Eater, watched silently judging as the parade of people came into their home.  A marble table decorated beautifully with elegant white flowers was in the middle of the foyer. An heirloom golden urn sat in the middle, accepting donations to S.C.A.R.E. The guests would then be ushered through the stately corridors of the East Wing to the ball room at the back of the house. Guests were announced by name and if they had an estate, the name of their estate, once they reached the foyer of the ball room. A lavishly appointed room where the Abercrombie family was waiting to greet their guests.

Spencer Abercrombie, nearly 70 years old and patriarch of the family was at the head of the receiving line. His eldest son, Rawdon Abercrombie was by his side and next to him was the heiress of the family, Farren Abercrombie. Together they would greet their guests before they entered the ball room to begin the party. They would remain as in the foyer for an hour or so to make sure to personally greet the majority of arriving guests.

Once they’d made their greetings guests could enter the ballroom. Large and opulent the ball room was the picture of old money grandeur and splendor. Beautiful crystal chandeliers overhead, gorgeous gold leafing and painting adorned the walls and the windows led out into the garden and were dressed in sumptuous hangings.  The center had largely been left open for dancing. With adjoining parlors for hushed socializing there was little need for scores of tables crowding the space. There were chairs and settees elegantly arranged to rest tired feet though. Near the tables serving elegant foods and liquors there were a few tables, beautifully arranged and set for the guests. A small orchestra was near the head of the room, opposite the wall of windows and doors leading to the garden. Waiters in dress robes flitted amongst the crowd carrying trays of champagne. The music was lively, timeless classical waltzes, reels, and traditional Wizarding songs were played for dancing and enjoyment.

In the garden were twinkling fairy lights and elegant floating balls of sparkling white light to keep the chill away from above. Benches were hidden amongst the hedges and rose bushes which were blooming - our of season - just beautifully. Elegant sitting rooms adjacent to the ballroom were open for those who needed break. Lush furnishings mingled with elegant decor and ancient family paintings. Most walls that weren’t covered with paintings were covered with books shelves housing ancient and modern books alike all bound in the traditionally beautiful leather. Smoking was available as well as heavier food upon order from any of the waiters roaming the parlors.

The mood was jovial, if not slightly seductive what with the old elegance of the home and the flattering candle light everywhere. The rooms to the family’s portion of the home were locked, particularly the entrances to the wings of the house where the current misstress resided. But there were plenty of places outside of private wings and rooms to enjoy the evening. Guard wizards were on hand to supervise the revlers. Just as ladies’ maids were on hand by the powder room to attend to emergencies with gowns and mascara and hurt feelings. It was by anyone’s memory and standards the grandest event they’d have seen in years.

For the first time in Farren’s memory there were going to be people in her home. The expansive estate she’d lived on for the last 21 years had hardly been a place of social gathering. The family hosted snidget hunts on their land for friends and family but that was primarily out of doors. The house itself, the four quiet wings which sat empty most of the time was never opened to visitors. Their library was the only portion of the home ever opened to visitors and as it were those were rare as well now the war was over. The idea of having a masquerade at her beloved home was at the same time daunting and thrilling. Farren was extremely proud of her home and the gorgeous lands surrounding it. She was truly looking forward to having an opportunity to show it off a bit. She’d debated hosting the event in their London mansion but ultimately decided the whole event would be much grander at Dalemain.

Being the heiress of the family and the only female Abercrombie left in the main line of the family it was incumbent upon her that she organize the affair. She’d spared no effort or expense. She’d selected the best musicians, the best decorators, the finest flowers, the best liquor money could buy, award winning catering, and of course she’d fastidiously micro managed everyone doing their respective jobs until it was perfection.

As for her family she’d left no stone unturned. The whole clan was fabulously tailored in the most expensive robes and gowns known to man. Her four cousins in attendance as well as her Father and Grandfather had been expertly tailored under her watchful eye. For the event she’d selected several heirloom pieces of jewelry to be displayed by the ladies and coordinated the gentleman’s accessories as well. She was quite sure she’d driven them all mad with the details but she was representing the family and their less than peachy reputation.

Her gown was a piece of couture fashion crafted specifically for the occasion. She had wanted something elegant with a hint of whimsy given the occasion. The hostess and heiress of this monumental estate needed to be royalty for the evening so royalty her designer had made her. The luxurious blue brought out her eyes and skin tone perfectly. She’d had he hair pulled into her signature loose undo and she’d kept her makeup minimal save for her eyeliner to draw you into her blue eyes even behind a mask.

Having checked every final detail twenty times before that day Farren was relaxing in her rooms until they received word that the first round of guests were to arrive at the Gate House. Upon news that the first wave would be arriving in ten minutes Farren’s maid put the finishing touches on and sent her out down to the party. Her father and grandfather would wait for her in the foyer before going back to the ballroom.

Making her way down the stairs of her grand foyer Farren carefully stepped making sure her gorgeous blue gown was perfectly situated. Her custom made diamond mask was tied on with deep blue silk ribbons, hiding just enough of her face to leave a bit of mystery. She’d pulled the most lavish heirloom jewels from their vaults for the evening including a diamond necklace worth millions of galleons last worn for by her mother at the announcement of her birth and a pair of spectacular earrings given to her grandmother as a gift from the eldest Lestrange.  She’d even nestled her great great grandmother’s diamond hairband in the soft volume of her dark hair. She was the picture of elegance and beauty, regal and poised. The foyer agreed, the servants joined her Father and Grandfather at the bottom of the stairs to greet her. For a moment she thought her father might tear up seeing her but he managed to take her arm, whispering to her how much she looked like her mother.

With one arm looped through her father’s, trailing a few steps behind her grandfather the three Abercrombies made their way to the ballroom foyer where they would await their guests arrivals.

Valerian did love a good shindig, and for once he was not the one in charge of it. He had arrived early, so early it was almost rude. Farren had taken charge of the whole event this year and he was quite glad it. The woman was beyond competent in these matters, and her name had substantially more pull than his own.

Val rested his chin on his fist as he looked out the carriage window as it rumbled gently along the path. From here he was given a tour of the estate, able to see quite a ways down as he headed toward to main house in a comfortable silence. He had been offered a ride with another pair of lovely ladies who had arrived around the same time as he had, but the Stringfellow had politely declined, helping them into their carriage with a kiss on the hand each and sending them off before getting in his own carriage himself.

The Abercrombie estate was a great deal larger than Wisteria, and obviously retained much of its charm and elegance from its heyday. Val noted, with slight reluctance, that the property was maintained exceptionally well, every branch and leaf of the manicured trees and shrubs held perfectly in place even as a gentle wind blew through the air. Wisteria was not, unfortunately, so perfectly kept. True, his home was meticulously, obsessively maintained, but he was one man and Wisteria was full of rolling hills and a large lake and so many other moving parts. But Wisteria, in its slightly overgrown nature had a sort of charm to it, like a fairytale forest left alone for just a little too long.

While the overgrown fairytale look worked for Wisteria, it would certainly not fit for the Abercrombie estate, the very center of elegance and class. If he leaned to the side of the otherwise empty carriage, he could see the Dalemain mansion in the distance, standing like a dream against the blue skies. Even as it rumbled closer and closer into view, his awe did not lessen. As he was alone in the carriage, he took no care to hide his admiration. The house was gorgeous.

And even as he stepped down from the carriage and approached the house, he felt even more impressed, though now that he was under the watchful eyes of the servants, he make sure not to show just how pleased he was to be in the gorgeous house. He had checked his somewhat heavy black overcoat but retained his top hat, adjusting his vest and rich white chemise as he went. After he posed for a photograph or two and answered the usual questions about the outfit he was wearing, his feelings for the upcoming social season, and (most importantly) his eligibility.

“Ah yes, the clothes. I know it was a bit old fashioned of me, but I admit that I’m weak to the classics, especially with a masque ball like this. Does it look alright?” he laughed, adjusting his plain black domino mask on his face. “It’s the finest fabric the lovely lady Li had in her stock-- spelled to keep me cool and at ease the whole night. Can’t be looking like a slob next to all the beauties that will be here, eh? It’d put my mother to shame. ”

“I’m very optimistic and excited about this year’s events. Miss Abercrombie has far outdone herself and we have a fantastic line-up for the social season, so keep your eyes peeled, you won’t want to miss a single moment. The Snidget Hunt and fashion show are sure to be talked about for years to come.”

“Still single, yes. Maybe not by the end of the season, though, keeping my fingers crossed.”

Once finished, Val sighed deeply and took a moment to admire the true splendor of the mansion. As a man whose mansion was as dear to him as his own life, the beauty of Dalemain was almost enough to make him cry. Exceptional. Truly excellent. Just as he was about to keep wandering, he caught sight of his esteemed hosts, the Abercrombie family (plus a somewhat creepy series of portraits) greeting guests in the foyer. As he approached, he couldn’t keep his eyes from Farren, who looked the very picture of a perfect society lady. Val greeted the men of the family politely, then kissed Farren’s hand like the well-bred man he was.

“Miss Abercrombie, you’re a vision. I’ll wager there won’t be a man tonight who isn't clambering for the chance to have you on their arm. Save this poor soul a dance, if you can.” He gave her his best smile and then after a little bit more conversation, he adjourned to one of the sitting rooms, settling into a comfortable chair with a view of the entrance. He was still quite early, but he would be able to see if someone interesting showed up.

Zachary had been preparing for the start of the new social season ever since he had heard mention of a masquerade ball.  He absolutely adored the pagentry of it; the splendour of everybody in the room, but most of all the fact that his family's status and wealth usually meant that he was one of the most resplendent of all. And this year was to be no exception - he had spared no expense on his outfit. Having caught wind of the plans for a masque very early in their conception, he had managed to retain his first choice of tailor before any one else monopolised his time, which was exactly what Zachary had done over the last eight weeks or so.

The effect he was going for was high impact, visible from anywhere the room and as much grandeur as money can buy.  Essentially, he was dressed as a human embodiment of the sun. The frock coat that bedecked his frame shimmered gold, its ludicrously high thread count catching the light and glistening with every slightest movement. It was exquisitely embroidered and embellished with thousands of tiny pearls woven into the ribbons on the facings and edgings. His breeches were tailored to match, and to complete the outfit he had a Byronic blouse and stockings of a slightly off white Egyptian cotton. The blouse was further decorated with golden embroidery and extensive but refined lacework in the bib and cuffs.  Accessories had been carefully sourced and co-ordinated, including off-white silk gloves and rings, broaches and chokers that mounted more pearls and other precious gemstones in a sophisticated and refined setting.  This was however, merely all background for the focal point of the outfit - the mask. He had paid a venetian artisan almost as much as his tailor to create the most opulent and splendid headdress money could buy.

Although in many circumstances, Zachary would have preferred a full-faced mask, today he was not playing any games or attempting any subterfuge - at least, no more than anyone else at the event would be - rather he was just parading his status before the gathered masses. As such, he had instructed the maskmaker that a half mask would suffice and as it sat on it's mannequin head on his dressing table, he admired the detailed embossing, the jewels that had been set into it, and the mane of feathers that sprouted from it which would serve to give him an extra eighteen inches or so of height, crowned with three tail feathers of a phoenix that had been a particular extravagance he just couldn't resist. When added to his height and the boost given by his three-inch court shoes, he would be an imposing eight feet tall. 

Ailsa had been insistent that she wanted to come and play among the richies, and so after assurances from her that she would be on her best behaviour Zachary had commissioned her a complementary outfit for her and she had assumed a face and body that best displayed it. Alain too was joining them - a chance to observe Zachary in his native habitat apparently too intriguing an opportunity to miss. Should anyone ask they were assuming the identities of siblings from an eccentric and insular Italian family of whom only the scantest of rumours had been heard in decades.  But the beauty of the masquerade meant that it would be incredibly bad form for anyone to inquire after their identities anyway, and so now was the perfect time for Zachary to show those closest to him the kind of world his birthright gave him.

Ailsa finished dappling gold over the ivory make-up she had already plastered smoothly over Zachary's immaculately shaven face and neck, then tied the collar of his blouse and secured it with a choker.  He slipped the jacket on and reverentially lowered the headdress onto his face, where a spell caused it to adhere gently and comfortably. He picked up the gold and ivory sceptre that he'd acquired to finish off the outfit then left his dressing room and then arm in arm, they started a serene walk down the length of his residence to the main grate, not wanting to get the slightest amount of soot on his immaculate outfit through using the internal floo. He had chartered a private portkey to whisk Zachary and guests from Neroli to Dalemain and it did so with the utmost punctuality.

Dalemain was a wonderous sight to behold. It was everything the upper class purebloods strived for, and was executed so perfectly.  As the trio were whisked through the grounds in the carriage Zachary considered how much his own parents had been slacking in the upkeep of their country manor since Grandfather had died. To be quite honest, he was surprised that Dalemain was in such good upkeep following the disgrace the family had suffered in recent years, but Farren had clearly asserted herself masterfully in the overseeing of preparations for tonight's event. After he was helped down from the carriage by the footman, Zachary straightened out his outfit and held himself tall and poised as he demurely glided through to the foyer.

Arriving fairly promptly, there was no queue ahead and Zachary did not have to wait to be received; quite the way it should be! Having presented his entourage, Zachary got into the full spirit of the occasion. He made an ostentacious sidestep, swinging his sceptre out before twirling in back across his body as his free leg swept behind and he stopped into a deep bow. He kept his face frozen throughout the whole greeting, playing the role of the eccentric and enigmatic mute masqueteer. He shook the hands of Spencer and Rawdon, bobbing his head deferentially to each in turn before collapsing down onto one knee, taking Farren's hand delicately and bringing it toward his mouth. He stopped just a hairsbreadth from making actual contact, where he pursed his lips and let the tiniest slither of warm breath escape and play on the back of Farren's hand. Releasing it, he stood once again, unfolding elegantly until he towered over the Abercrombies.  He stepped back and twirled so as that he was at right angles to the greeting line, back to Farren, and ready to enter the ballroom.  Before he proceeded though, he conceded to utter a single word as an aside such that only Farren would hear his the refined syllables of voice.  "Stunning."  Whether he was referring to the estate, the ball itself or the doyenne of the pureblood world was left unanswered as he snapped his head back forward and conducted himself into the main hall.

Entering the ballroom, Zachary was mildly surprised at the lack of a herald before recalling this was a Masque and having one's entrance announced rather defeated the ostensible point of what were supposed to be disguises, and thankfully meant he did not have to announce Ailsa and Alain's aliases either. Unfortunately there was also a lack any other guests either and so after being served with a glass of Champagne, which on sipping Zachary knew must have been Farren's selection, he took himself to a parlour off of the dancefloor where he would best be able to watch the other guests arriving without overshadowing their arrival with his own radiance. Unfortunately it was such a well sequestered spot that he did not notice until it was too late that the booth was already occupied.  He gave another of his pantomime bows, then broke from the mime persona. Whilst he fully recognised the man before him from their encounter a week or so previously as Valerian Stringfellow, the game of the masque allowed if not positively commanded him to feign ignorance. "Greetings, fine gentlefellow. Marvellous party, what what." He eyed Valerian appraisingly, much more in control of his faculties and actions tonight than he had been when they met at his mothers. The man appeared to be dressed as an undertaker, with a fairly paltry attempt at a mask.  The Stringfellows really were down on their luck at the moment. Still, in the charming chandelierlight of the Abercrombie residence, the simplicity somehow worked. He hadn't noticed quite how handsome Valerian had become when the man was snivelling in his mother's parlour playing cupid, but now with the light of a thousand candles glinting off his perfect skin and exquisite bone structure, he saw a side of the Stringfellow scion that he could bear to spend more time around.

Áine sighed, it felt like a heavy weight was upon her. How was she going to be able to handle this? Pale blue, grey eyes met wise older ones. She could feel the soft old hands leave her hair and move to her shoulders. She smiled weakly at her great aunt Kavanagh. The woman smiled and said not a word before returning back to doing Áine’s hair.  The brown locks were being twisted and braided into something that looked like it belong to some damsel in a medieval drama.

Áine would be representing the Kavanagh family of old this night, and showcasing her proud Irish heritage and Celtics she descends from. Fingers softly went to the old necklace . The necklace was crude in design, and would stand out compared to the beautiful fancy pieces of the rich and powerful. Hanging from the black leather bands was the family crest a raven surround by a Celtic knot. Aunt Kavanagh smiled as she magiced the mask to Áine’s face, the mask would stay on without any strings or ribbon and would only come off when Áine wanted to take it off at the end of the night.

Finished with the preparations she stood, kissed her aunt on the cheek before wrapping a heavy cloak of real raven feathers around her shoulders, hiding the beautiful black dress her mother had bought for her and her aunt had charmed with feathers. No one would know that it wasn’t wizard made or done by a top designer. Her Aunt was just that good, before she had married her uncle, aunt Kavanagh was studying fashion and clothing design.

With one last look at her aunt and one last hug and kiss from her grandparents, she escaped into the night before her teary eyed mother could snap one more photo. Yes, she was going to her first true formal ball, but why was that such a big deal. She was sad she was going alone, her uncle had become too sick to attend and her aunt didn’t want to leave his side for long. Áine still wondered at how they had come up with the invitation to the most private formal event. “I guess the Kavanagh’s do still have powerful friends she thought to herself”

As the spinning stopped Áine was dizzy and feeling quite sick, “oh please oh please do not let me throw up now” she thought her face quite pale. Áine didn’t do well with portkeys yet she couldn’t go by floo it would ruin the hard work her family put into making her look lovely. With deep breaths the nausea faded, and Áine had a chance to look about her, she was in some kind of gatehouse. Áine felt she was in one of those fantasy novels, she secretly read back as a kid as a young gentleman helped her into a gorgeous carriage. She smiled shyly before putting on her game face. Now was not the time to show weakness, the Kavanaghs were counting on her. She owed everything to her aunt and uncle. Áine knew her being made the heiress and the fact that one day she would  inherit the title of the Matriarch and head of Kavanagh, was only a practical arrangement.  Her being the only known magical Kavanagh female left didn’t stop her from feeling indebted to her grandmother’s brother and his wife.

The carriage ride gave Áine a great view of Dalemain, it was absolutely breathtaking. She fell absolutely in love with the old grandeur and architecture, and lovely wilderness that surround it. Áine had only ever been to one other place that looked this stunning and that was Hogwarts. Thoughts turned to the ancient home of her ancestors, the Kavanaghs had been forced to abandon it. Yet her great great grandfather had bought back the land the ruins stood on for his wife who was the current Matriarch of the family as a wedding gift. It had been his intentions to rebuild, yet that had never happened. When Áine visited the ruins it was just piles of moss covered stones, yet as she stared up at Dalemain, Áine couldn't help but wonder if the place had once been as great as this.

The carriage stopped and Áine was handed down, the nervous fears came rushing back at her as she entered the house. She couldn’t help but feel so out of place and so alone, it was like being a first year at Hogwarts all over again but this time without Simon. She could feel the stinging in her eyes of tears starting to form. “I can do this, I can do this, I have to do this, ” she chanted silently as a mantra fighting so hard to not cry. Slowly she entered the foyer and checked in her feathered robe, and other personal items she wouldn’t need.  A camera flashed there was a couple of reporters. It was show time.

Áine smiled and bantered charmingly with the reports, spoke of her family the Kavanaghs, and received compliments about her dress. She knew how she was supposed act she had been brought up for a day like this, not just by her Aunt and Uncle, but by the Kerr line, but today was all about her being a descendent of the once noble, and very ancient house of Kavanagh. The Kerr, would have their day when she helped  with the auction later in the season.

After being announced Áine was greeted by the Abercrombie family, that stood in a receiving line, she remembered Farren from school slightly but she didn’t know her that well. Áine complimented the girl on her dress and spoke other well rehearsed lines of civility. Áine wore not only a literal mask, but one figuratively as well as she played the part of a well bred Pureblood perfectly before entering into the ball. No one looking at her would see the frightened or lost feelings she felt, or so she hoped.

Of course, Marcus Wentworth had heard of the mythical Social Season from his parents. They had attended it themselves as a young married couple, though of course this had been before Marcus' time. The Season was being reintroduced now, and the Ministry worker was almost uncharacteristically cheerful. Once hearing that the Season was starting, the man's parents had encouraged Marcus to attend, though he hadn't needed any prodding. He was extremely eager to socialize with the other people who would undoubtedly be attending.

The first event was a ball, but not just any ball, a masquerade ball. Marcus wasn't completely thrilled about having a mask plastered to his face, but he did have a soft spot for dancing, so he supposed it would be alright. He had picked his outfit very carefully. It was a somewhat odd tuxedo, in colors of white, grey, and black but at least it fit well, and it looked good with his mask, which was the most important thing anyway, and had been magically adhered to the man's face. He had picked it special, wanting one that would hide nearly his entire face and made him almost unrecognizable.

Marcus appeared with a loud POP! at the designated destination of arrival. Of course he had apparated, it had seemed much easier than travelling by portkey, and besides, he didn't feel ill after apparating. There were carriages waiting to take guests to the mansion and, much to his enjoyment, Marcus got one to himself. Dalemain was lovely, he quickly decided as he was given a good look at both the grounds and the exterior of the house. It was also very large. Marcus had known that the Abercrombies were quite rich, but he hadn't been fully compared for just how rich they were. Just from the outside it was clear that the interior would be lavishly decorated.

Only somewhat surprising, was the fact that there were photographers on the steps, positively itching to take pictures of anyone entering the mansion. Although he wasn't at all glad about it, Marcus politely answered the questions of the reporters, and allowed some pictures to be taken before pressing forward. Upon entering, his arrival was announced, and Marcus was greeted by the hosting family. He was impressed by what he saw, not only the decorations, but also the other guests. A few of them caught his eye: there was a yellow man, who, from behind, looked as if he was wearing a giant sunflower, another, who was dressed very old fashioned, and a young woman in black feathers who had a slightly odd expression on her face. There were so many interesting people, maybe he ought to go socialize with some of them.