Page 5 of Legacy of Succession

CHAPTER THREE

VICTORIA

I stare up at the imposing mansion on the outskirts of London. I thought I lived in a big house, but this place must be more imposing than Buckingham Palace. You can tell that part of it dates back to Tudor times, but the majority of the brickwork and style is gothic in nature, and thus from the Victorian era. I bet these walls can tell a few stories, and I’d love to hear them.

“Hurry up, Victoria,” my father calls. I scamper quickly to his side, and we enter together through the grand arch of the welcoming chamber.

“Sorry, Father, I was just admiring the house. Who lives here?”

“The Duke of Oakfield,” he replies curtly.

I scan my memory for details on who that is. I’ve heard that name before — I’m sure of it. Yes, he’s the patron of my favorite art museum in London. I’m even more excited for my debut into society because I wonder if he has artwork in his home, which I can study.

The heavy oak doors are opened for us, and we’re shown into a room with several other girls wearing the same linen dress as I am. I smile at one of them, but she just raises an eyebrow at me and walks off after a man who must be her father. Fine, I’ll avoid her then. My coat and my father’s are taken. He's presented with a glass of Champagne. I’m offered one but respectively decline. I want to make sure I remember every moment of what’s about to happen.

“Father.” He turns to me, when I address him, and takes a sip of his drink.

“Yes.”

“Are we to attend a banquet?” I look around the room at the paintings on the wall while I speak.

“There'll be food later.”

“Will gentlemen be attending?”

“Just one.”

“Just one?” I repeat and face him.

“The Duke’s son, Earl Lullington.”

“Oh.”

The conversation stops, and my father nods to another man as he walks near.

“My Lord Linton.”

“Mayfield.”

“Is Lady Joanna ready?” my father asks.

“She's with my wife trying to tame her unruly hair.”

“I’m blessed, Victoria has straight hair even if it's as red as a cherry. It must be the Irish blood in Cecilia.” I take hold of my hair, which is neatly tied back in a French plait. The end of the braid comes down to my waist. When hanging loose, my hair reaches the middle of my back. I’ve always loved it long, and the color I find unique. I’m not ginger but a natural dark red. Nobody knows where it came from even if my father blames my mother’s ancestry.

“I guess I should blame the Celtic blood for Joanna’s curly hair, then. It’s as wild as one of the bare-chested brutes who used to run wild over our lands,” Lord Linton replies with a chuckle. His attention is taken when a girl the same age as me hurries up to him and bows her head low, so he can see the top of it.

“Is this alright Father,” she asks.

He inspects it. Her hair looks fine to me, but then, I don’t see why we all need to be dressed the same and so plainly. I don’t wear a lot of makeup usually, but I do like mascara and a spot of lipstick. I had all of that scrubbed of my face before I left. This isn’t exactly the debut into society I'd dreamed of. I expected lavish gowns, and an evening full of dancing with handsome men. The sort of thing that comes straight from the pages of Pride and Prejudice. Instead, I’ve got no make-up, no underwear, and a dress that looks like a white bin liner. I pray to god that I don’t get it wet because everything will be on display if I do. I can’t let a fashion disaster get me down. I’m out of the house — ok, there are not as many people as I expected, but there are still people to talk to.

Joanna’s father gives her his seal of approval, and she turns to face me.

“Hello, I’m Lady Joanna Nethercutt,” she smiles.

“Victoria Hamilton,” I respond.

“The Honorable,” my father adds. I never use the title that precedes my name. My father is a Viscount — as his daughter, I am not entitled to use ‘Lady’ only ‘The Honorable’. What’s the point? I’m not pretentious. Well having said that, if it were Duchess or Countess, then I’d probably use it.

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