In the vein of these God-awful lessons on etiquette and gentility, Emily (my father’s wife – whom I find difficult to call stepmother, given she’s barely a handful of years my senior), has asked me to establish resolutions for the new year. She suggests resolutions are made upon becoming a better person, with a stronger moral compass. Which, of course, means she believes I need to be both a better person and possess a stronger moral compass.
Should you ask Emily, I am resolved to flirt with the line of ruination for all of us. But she doesn’t understand. My reputation is of no consequence if its loss means finding my father. And I will find him. I do not care what they think of me, no matter how Emily chastens my behavior, no matter how the “gentle” London society may gossip about my forwardness and twitter about me behind their fans. I have no desire to remain in London anyway. I am resolved to live in their world, God help me, until I find my answers. (And I must make a note: With these parties until all hours, it is no wonder high society is considered gentle – they wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans should they be required to work for a living.) How I miss the dust and dirt. My boots.My freedom.
How I miss my father.
If I don’t find him, I—well. That is not an option. It can’t be. For without the man who raised me and placed the world at my feet, I have nothing.
So yes, I am most certainly resolved, my dear Emily. Nothing will stand in my way.
~ Ariadne Whitney (And you may call me Aria)