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Where propriety curtsies, gossip waltzes, and truth — if it attends at all — is fashionably late.
A Welcome Note from the Editor

Dearest Society Inquisitor,

Welcome to The Parlour Press — where propriety meets panache, where facts are printed (and footnoted, occasionally), and where no detail is too small to be exaggerated in the name of good storytelling.

Here you’ll find the latest from parlours, plantations, and the corners of society best left in shadows. Every debut, every dalliance, every suspiciously “accidental” meeting beneath the magnolias — all gathered here, with ink still damp and eyes still wide.

I do not claim to be unbiased. (What fun would that be?) But I do promise to be watchful. Thoughtfully observant. And just nosy enough to keep things interesting.

Please, do mind the gossip. It has a tendency to trail after you, long after the paper’s gone to press.

Yours in ink and intrigue,
L. E. Watson
Editor-in-Chief, The Parlour Press
Scandal, Society, and Slightly Embellished Truths Since 1835

From the Back of the Ballroom

“The Punch Was Spiked”

A submission from a concerned guest (who shall remain unnamed, as any respectable lady would). For a peaked curiosity, Read on →

“A Note on the Elegance of Timing”

Miss Watson’s initial observation on the curious incident of both Taylor daughters finding themselves in the arm’s of another lady’s dance partner. If you, too, have fallen victim to such—unfortunate occurrences, Read on →

Letters to the Editor

An excerpt from a Letter to the Editor from Mr. Charles Taylor, insisting that the Taylor family punch recipe has been:

“passed down from three generations of responsible Virginians.”

Full letter unprinted — Miss Watson has a brother of her own, should she desire a lecture.

Though, in response she wishes to make clear that personally, she found the punch quite invigorating.

Then again, Miss Watson is the type of lady who has always enjoyed a little risk with her refreshment.

Uninvited Commentary
“One hardly expects to see so much wealth, renown, and bloodline in a single drawing room—unless, of course, Mr. Taylor has been making use of that formidable address book of his.”
–Observed by a lady of regal name and unremarkable lineage
"If Miss Elizabeth Taylor steals one more dance partner, she may be asked to leave the season entirely."
–Penned anonymously. But not discreetly.
“Someone should tell Michel Defour that winking at the help is not nearly as charming as he believes it to be.”
— Initials withheld, but likely a former object of his affection.
"The Speaker of the House ought to keep a closer eye on his youngest daughter... lest she follow too precisely in her sister’s footsteps."
— Remarked by a man of unremarkable reputation
"It is truly remarkable how the Taylor girls manage to be both devout and entirely unsupervised."
—Anonymous note left on the Rector’s pew
“One cannot help but wonder at the condition of a man who kisses a lady’s hand three times in under a minute… nor at the state of the lady’s morals in permitting it.”
— Murmured discreetly by a woman who’s never had her hand kissed even once.
"It is unclear whether Mr. Archibald Sinclair charmed the debutantes, their chaperones, or their footmen most thoroughly — though it was agreed by the second set that wagers should have been placed."
— Reported by a thoroughly scandalized (and secretly entertained) matron.
"If Mr. John Walker gazed any more longingly after Miss Elizabeth Taylor, someone might have mistaken him for a suitor, one with any hope at all."
— Snipped, one can only assume, from the mouth of a rival debutante.
"It must be said: Mr. Eamon Bryne showed considerable restraint in discarding only one dance partner by midnight."
— Penned on the back of a dance card, and retrieved from the bottom of the punch bowl.
Post-Print Rebuttals

Letter from Initials Withheld:

While I make it a policy never to respond to gossip — especially when flung so carelessly and anonymously — I feel obliged, in the name of both dignity and accuracy, to correct a most egregious implication printed in your last issue.

Particularly after my mother spotted the claim, and has since banished me to the local chapel for reflection until further notice.

I refer, of course, to the commentary regarding Mr. Michel Defour and his “charming” tendencies toward the household staff. While I make no claim on Mr. Defour’s attention (past or present), I must assert that I have never served punch, poured tea, nor worn anything so practical as a pinafore in his presence.

If the remark was indeed meant to suggest our past acquaintance, I shall assume it was born not of fact, but of jealous supposition — the kind that thrives in shadows and scurries away from the light of a well-penned letter.

I remain,
A Lady of Considerable Standing
(Initials, respectfully, still withheld)

Letter from Mr. Michel Defour:

To the Incomparable Miss Watson,

I must confess myself most flattered by the recent attentions of your publication. It is no small thing to be immortalized in print — particularly in such lively company.

While I shall refrain from naming names (as some, it seems, find initials protection enough), I feel obliged to correct the record in a spirit of good humor:

I have never winked at anyone who did not first smile.
I have never smiled at anyone who did not first intrigue me.
And as for the matter of whether my attentions are charming or tedious — well, that judgment, I leave to history (and, evidently, to your readership).

Should further inquiries arise, I am at present receiving callers — between the hours of three and five — at the card tables.

Yours, with my most sincere insincerity,
Michel Defour

As ever, The Parlour Press leaves the final judgment to its readers — though we do wonder at those who protest so very much.

Letter to the Editor

Should you find yourself in possession of a whisper or an observation that is better left unsaid, get in touch.

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This edition of The Parlour Press was sealed and scattered to the winds on the 26th of March, 1835.
We trust you will find it suitably scandalous until the next inevitable uproar.

More tales, more tempests, and more inconvenient truths shall follow — as surely as the next dance, or the next downfall.

Printed with delight and no apologies by The Parlour Press, 1835.