The Punch was Spiked

Published in The Parlour Press | Reprinted without verification

“The Punch Was Spiked”
A concerned guest (who shall remain unnamed, as any respectable lady would) writes:

“It is with no small amount of regret that I must address the frankly ludicrous assertions printed in several recent papers regarding Miss Mary Taylor’s ‘graceful recovery’ during her debut ball.

I was in attendance. I saw what I saw. And I must say, no woman trips so spectacularly unless there has been something amiss with the refreshments.

Let us not forget that the punch was being served by Charles Taylor’s younger brother, who is charming but has never been known for his sense of restraint — in any context. I, for one, took a sip and found it had the subtle aroma of summer fruit and danger.

I do not accuse. I merely suggest. And I would advise all future debutantes to either sip with caution, or hold tightly to their dance partners — should the floor rise up to meet them.”

(Signed only: A Lady of Good Standing with Excellent Balance)

A Note on the Elegance of Timing

Published in The Parlour Press | Reprinted without verification

There is a certain charm in youthful spontaneity. A refreshing boldness, if you will, that allows a young lady to step directly into the spotlight—whether or not it was hers to begin with.

This trait was displayed to dazzling effect—not once, but twice—at the recent Taylor debut, where both Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary Taylor demonstrated an admirable, if unconventional, confidence in seizing the moment. Miss Elizabeth, ever the portrait of poise, was seen taking the arm of a partner long presumed promised to another, while Miss Mary’s approach was rather less subtle, involving a gentleman, a knowing smile, and a sudden rearrangement of expectations.
Not to mention, a kiss of the hand... or three.

Of course, such occurrences are merely social curiosities. No one would dream of suggesting ill intent. And yet... one might be forgiven for wondering whether such a pattern—of appearing just as another young lady’s dance is about to begin—speaks to a greater sense of initiative than propriety.

Naturally, we mustn’t judge too harshly. The Taylors are, after all, a respected family of longstanding influence. It is simply surprising to see such a disregard of convention (and, some might say, manners)—particularly from young women raised in a household known for its refinement.

But perhaps this is the new fashion: to ask forgiveness only after the quadrille has begun.

Some girls wait for their dance.
Others, it seems, do not.

Both the gentlemen in question, Mr. Byrne and Mr. Sinclair, were reached out to for commentary—we continue to wait, with bated breath. Though one suspects we may expire long before either develops the courage—or courtesy—to reply.