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The Rebel Belle

She would define herself

By Nicole WernerPublished 3 years ago 15 min read
20
The Rebel Belle
Photo by Vlad Rudkov on Unsplash

Adelaide felt like her arms were about to fall off. She had been standing on the platform in the boutique for over an hour. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold her arms out from her sides as the seamstress flitted around her, tucking the dress, sticking pins here and there. Finally, she put one final pin in place and pronounced herself satisfied. Adelaide looked at the mirror, staring at her reflection in the full-length white gown. The sweetheart neckline was enhanced with beading and lace while the pins held it firmly against her body down to her waist, where the dress expanded into a ball gown that flowed down to her feet. She hated it.

Adelaide’s mother stepped up next to the platform and handed her a pair of white long kidskin gloves. “Now, darling, put these on. I want to see what it looks like together.”

“Mother, do I have to wear the gloves? They’re so uncomfortable,” Adelaide groaned.

“Of course you do. Remember, a debutante without gloves is no debutante at all,” her mother trilled, for what must have been the hundredth time.

Adelaide rolled her eyes. She had no desire to be a debutante or attend the debutante ball, but she knew bringing that up was a lost cause that would only lead to a fight. Another fight, she thought to herself. The first time she mentioned that she was not interested in being presented to society at the debutante ball, her mother, normally the picture of composure, went ballistic. She shouted, actually shouted, at Adelaide. Birdie had never so much as raised her voice before. Usually, whenever they disagreed, she would lean in close and whisper venom in her ear. But, threatening to not abide by what was expected from her by proper society appeared to be her mother’s breaking point. Birdie made it clear in no uncertain terms that she would be participating, whether she liked it or not. When Adelaide tried to press the issue again, her mother went straight for the jugular; “if you do not attend that ball and uphold your duty to this family, you will not see one cent from your college fund.”

Adelaide immediately back down after this threat. College was her ticket to freedom, her escape. While her mother was focused on Adelaide getting her “MRS” degree, Adelaide had other plans. She had yet to tell her mother that she would not be going to Clairmont Paine College, the private school where all the offspring of the local high society attended and intermarried. The school was famous for turning young ladies into wives of doctors, lawyers, and senators. It was also far enough away that she would live on campus, but close enough that she would be expected to come home at least once a month and her mother could pop in for a surprise visit. No, she was going to attend the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Adelaide had always been drawn to math and science, a love that her father had fostered and her mother ignored. She had excelled in school, earning top grades in honors courses, even after her father’s death. It was then that her mother began to weaponize the things Adelaide loved. When she wanted to attend a science camp, the trade off was participation in cotillion classes. But she had had the time of her life at that camp; well worth having to learn the proper fork to eat with and how to waltz.

Adelaide returned to the dressing room and the seamstress helped her out of the gown, promising to have the final alterations completed for the ball the following week. She really didn’t care if the dress was ready or not, but good manners had been engrained into her throughout her life. “Thank you so much,” she smiled politely at the seamstress.

“No problem, hun. You’re gonna be the belle of the ball!”

Adelaide climbed into the back of the town car beside her mother. Birdie thought driving was undignified for women and had only begrudgingly allowed Adelaide to learn. Her father had left her his prized classic Mustang that he had rebuilt himself. A couple months prior, when she turned 18, her father’s attorney stopped by the estate to hand deliver the title to the car to Adelaide. She was sure if Birdie would have had the title, that car would have been long gone. Now, Adelaide loved cruising through town in it with the top down and the wind in her hair, which the weather in Georgia gave her ample opportunity to do.

“Tomorrow, we will pick up the tiara from the jewelers and go to the salon to do a trial run of your hair.” Birdie’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Is that really necessary? We’ve already had a trial run done once.”

“Not with the tiara, dear. Now, no further discussion. You agreed to participate in this if you want to go to college, and it takes more than merely showing up. If you are going to make the cover of Valley Times, you have to look perfect.”

Once again, Adelaide rolled her eyes. She was going to give herself a headache if she kept that up, but she couldn’t help herself when she spent this much time alone with her mother. Birdie lived for the monthly newsletter that was Paradise Valley’s version of Page Six. Every year after the debutante ball, Valley Times did a multipage spread, outlining the dresses, the jewelry, and who escorted who; not only the good, but also the bad. Birdie’s dream was for Adelaide to be featured on the cover, as she had been 24 years ago.

The driver pulled the car up to the gate and punched in the code. With the average real estate price in the seven figures, Paradise Valley was an exclusive area coveted by many, but inhabited by few. But, just like in every town, an unspoken social hierarchy existed, even for the upper echelon. Here the truly elite members of society lived in a small gated community, Oak Estates, up on the hill overlooking the rest of Paradise Valley. While many saw an address in Oak Estates as an unattainable dream, Adelaide thought of it as a gilded cage. Hew own home, one she used to love, had begun to feel like a prison after the death of her father; her mother the ever-watchful warden.

Adelaide checked the mail waiting on the sideboard in the foyer. She hoped that today would be the day she finally heard back from MIT. It was getting late to receive acceptance letters, but she refused to give up hope. Rifling through the letters, she was once again disappointed to find them devoid of one from MIT.

“Good news darling! I have finalized the details with Mrs. Montgomery and her son Preston will be your escort at the ball. Please remember to mind your manners and keep a civil tongue in your mouth. Preston is quite the eligible bachelor and Maxwell and I think you would be a good match. He’s already at Clairemont Paine and will be able to show you around,” her mother said pointedly to her on their way to the salon the next day. Adelaide sighed, but said nothing. Maxwell, her stepfather, probably did not care about anything besides finally sending her off to college where he didn’t have to deal with her anymore. She closed her eyes. All she had to do was get through the next week, then she would break the news to her mother that she was going to MIT. She knew her mother would be furious, but she was 18 and it was her life. “Honestly, child, you could show a little gratitude. Many of the other debs were hoping Preston would escort them next week.”

“Mother, I didn’t ask you to do that. Anyone would have been fine. I honestly don’t care.”

“And therein lies the problem, dear. I do not understand how you can care so little about your future. Your father escorted me at my debutante ball and we were happily married within two years,” Birdie said in a low voice.

“And I’m glad that worked for you, mother. But have you ever stopped to consider that maybe that isn’t what I want?” Adelaide nearly shouted back at her.

“Do not take that tone with me, young lady,” Birdie scolded. “You are a child and you do not know what you want. I am looking out for your best interest and it is time you remembered that!”

They spent the rest of the day in an uncomfortable silence. Adelaide could not believe her mother’s antiquated view of the world. While the Valley Times publicly exalted the debutante ball as a way to foster community, support charity, and celebrate young ladies joining polite society; beneath it all, it was wealthy families announcing to other wealthy families their daughters were of a marriageable age. It certainly showcased their thoughts on women; presented by their father at the beginning of the ceremony, then handed off to their male escort. Always defined by the man by her side instead of the woman within. Adelaide wanted no part of this farce.

After returning home, Adelaide began to feel guilty about the way she had spoken to her mother. She had been taught to not raise her voice, especially to her parents, and she knew she was going to disappoint her when she told her she would not be attending Clairmont Paine College. While they didn’t see eye to eye on how she should lead her life and probably never would, she was still her mother. She decided she would stop fighting over every step of the ball and put on a happy face for her. Adelaide knew how much it meant to her and this was something she could give her before she left for MIT.

Adelaide quietly entered her mother’s sitting room to discuss the details of the ball next week to show her how excited she was for the upcoming event. Adelaide normally preferred to spend her evenings in her room studying; or, since her graduation last week, lost in her books. She rarely, if ever, entered her mother’s space. As she strode across the room towards her mother, Birdie looked up, surprised by her entrance. She quickly grabbed a packet on the table and tried to hide it behind her back. Adelaide stopped dead in her track. She could have sworn she saw the MIT logo on the corner of the manila envelope.

“What is that?” Her original reason for entering the room completely forgotten.

“Oh, nothing darling. What are you doing in here?” Her mother choked out, her voice an octave higher than usual.

“Mother, I know what that is and it is mine. Give it to me.” Adelaide could see the corner of the large envelope peeking out from behind her mother’s back. It was clear by the size of it that it was no rejection letter.

“I will not. I do not know what you were thinking applying to MIT, but you will not be going. You will be attending Clairmont Paine and that is final.”

“No. You have never cared about what I am interested in or what I want. I have done everything you’ve asked, no matter how much I despised it. But I will not spend my life living for you instead of me. I am going to MIT.” While she felt nothing but rage brewing inside of her, Adelaide kept her voice steady and calm.

“Absolutely not. You will go to Clairmont Paine, or you will not go anywhere.” Her mother’s voice had reached its most dangerous level, barely above a whisper.

“What are you saying, Mother? That is my college fund.”

“And it is my name on the account. If you refuse to make the correct choice, then I am afraid you will not attend college. Think about it, the choice is yours.” And with that, Birdie threw the packet into the fireplace behind her. Adelaide gasped as she watched her future burn. She looked at her mother and it was as though she had never seen her clearly before. Without another word, Adelaide turned and left the room.

Adelaide awoke the following morning with puffy eyes. After spending the night crying in her pillow, she decided on her course of action. Waiting until her mother left to go shopping, she called the MIT Admissions Office. After going through multiple steps of the automated system, she was finally able to reach a real person. “Hello? I’m Adelaide Davenport. I’m calling regarding my application for admission for the fall semester?”

“Give me one second to look you up. Yes, Ms. Davenport. It's a good thing you called. You’ve almost missed the deadline to accept your spot. I am assuming that is why you're calling?” The woman asked.

“Yes! I’m sorry for cutting it so close, there was an issue with my mail and I did not receive my letter. Would it be possible to email me another copy?” Adelaide almost cried with relief that she had not missed her chance to accept her spot. She didn’t know how she would pay for it, but she didn’t care. She would no longer be her mother’s pawn, even if she had to pay student loans for the rest of her life.

“Oh dear, I’m so glad you called then. I can go ahead and email you the admission papers and scholarship information. Is the email address on your application the best to reach you at?” The cheery voice asked.

“Scholarship information? What scholarship?” Adelaide tried not to get her hopes up.

“Well, based on your SAT and GPA, you qualified for a 60% tuition and fees scholarship, plus room and board. It won’t cover all of your expenses and you will have to maintain a 3.5 GPA to keep it each year, but it will definitely help. I suggest coming for a campus visit soon and meeting with our financial aid office. They can help you apply for student loans and look for other resources to cover the rest.”

“Yes ma’am, thank you so much. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate it. I’ll make an appointment to meet with them next week. Thank you.” Adelaide couldn’t help but start to cry.

“No problem. I’ve sent all the information to your email address. Welcome to MIT.”

Adelaide hung up the phone and smiled. She was going to MIT and there was nothing her mother could do to stop her.

When Birdie returned home, she acted as if nothing had happened. At dinner, she spoke of nothing but the upcoming ball. She had picked up Adelaide’s dress and was satisfied that there was no way that Adelaide would not make the cover of Valley Times. Adelaide smiled and joined in the conversation, convincing her mother that she had come to her senses. After dinner, Birdie followed Adelaide to her room.

“Darling, I am so excited for next week, you will be the talk of the town! And maybe the week after, we can go shopping and get anything you want for your dorm room at Clairmont Paine. How does that sound?” her mother cooed, almost giddy.

“That sounds perfect.” Adelaide responded. She was certain that after the ball, she would most definitely be the talk of the town.

It was one in the morning when Adelaide quietly slipped out of her bedroom. She had already placed her suitcases in the trunk of her car. She had only packed a fraction of her clothes; her mother thought it necessary to buy an endless array of dresses and gowns even though Adelaide only wore them when forced to. Besides clothes, she packed her favorite books and some mementos of her father, but everything else she would leave behind. She grabbed her purse, once again grateful that her father had insisted she have her own bank account to put the money she received as gifts for birthdays and holidays. Her parents’ names had been on the account as well, but on her 18th birthday, she had moved the money to a new account, one only in her own name. Her mother was furious, but it was too late to do anything about it by time she found out. Her mother never allowed her to have a part time job thinking it was beneath her, but she was able to save up a few thousand dollars that would get her started until she could find a job.

As she walked down the stairs, the plastic bundle in her arms shifted, making a loud crinkling sound. Adelaide froze on the stairs and held her breath. After a few moments, she continued on, careful not to rustle the bundle again. Entering the security code into the panel by the back door, she stepped onto the back terrace. This was her mother’s favorite feature of the estate. While it was outside, it was more comfortable than most people’s living rooms. There was luxurious weather resistant furniture set up for conversation by a stone fireplace. Birdie would take her after dinner drink and sit out here by the fire, reading the Valley Times before retiring to her sitting room. Adelaide lit the gas fireplace; the flames instantly jumping to life. She then threw the bundle in her arms into the fire. As she watched the white fabric turn gray, then black as acrid smoke began to form, she noticed the latest copy of Valley Times sitting on the side table. She picked it up and threw it on top of her burning dress and watched as it all turned to ash. She turned and headed to her Mustang, not once looking back.

Side note: this story was written in response to a writing prompt in the Vocal Creators Saloon group on Facebook. It's a fairly new Facebook group started by longtime Vocal Creator, Teisha LeShea, so if you're not already a member, please join!

literature
20

About the Creator

Nicole Werner

Expert reader, novice writer. I have been chasing ideas around my head for years and finally decided to put pen to paper... or fingers to keyboard.

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