7 pm Friday 8th March 1861- West London

The familiar scrape of silverware echoed around the stiff dining room table. Mr Cavendish had banned all talking at the dinner table so I was restricted to glances up at Elizabeth, Maria and Jeremy. Jeremy picked at his food begrudgingly before returning to stare at the tablecloth, his small brown eyes fixated on the boiled potatoes.

I lay my hands in my lap and kept my face free from any expression which Mrs Cavendish might reprimand. Mrs Cavendish sat at the other end of the long table, next to Mr Cavendish. Mrs Cavendishish's beady green eyes and fire-red hair which was quaffed into an elaborate and tight style made her face almost hawkish.

"Miss Taylor, dear" I heard her simper. On the surface, it could be mistaken as coquettish but she had been my mistress long enough I could see the cold gleam in her eyes.

"Yes, Mrs Cavendish?" I responded keeping my voice obedient.

"I heard you received an invitation to the Black Prince's Ball from your assistant friend?" she said, resting a perfectly gloved hand on her powdered cheek, grinning at me.

"Yes, Mistress I did receive an invitation" I responded, trying to keep my contempt restrained. I had hidden that invitation, I might have one night to myself but apparently not.

"It is very interesting to me that you, a governess, would receive such an invitation and we do not. As you are a part of our employment" I almost tasted her snigger "I expect that you will be taking Elizabeth and Maria with you? It would be an excellent opportunity for them to find potential suitors". I ground my teeth into my gums and plastered on a mask of practised ignorance.

"O please Mother could we go? I would love to go and dance to the instruments, they are so magical Mother could we please go?" Maria pipped up from her dinner, her doe brown eyes filled with excitement and Mrs Cavendish turned to me with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course, I was always planning on inviting Miss Cavendish and Miss Maria Cavendish to come along with me" I reasoned quickly.

"No talking at the dinner table!" Mr Cavendish shouted from behind his newspaper and I flinched, picking at the ends of my nails to avoid Mrs Cavendish's gloating smile.

Instead of joining the family in the living room, I continued my set routine and I walked up the long winding stairs to the top floor. The room I had been given was small, cold and cramped, the quilt felt thin beneath my fingers. This had been the room of Elizabeth's, Maria's and Jermeny's nursemaids, poorly decorated with the scarps of my gilded life before becoming their governess.

I sat on the small rocking chair in the corner of the dingy room and pulled out the invitation from the pocket of my fraying day dress. The paper was thick and white, I had been so excited when the footman had secretly pressed it into my hands the month before at breakfast. I ran my fingers over the intricate dark red seal, feeling out the crevices and drinking in that forgotten luxury. I wanted to slip out and go to the ball alone, maybe it was better to go with the girls, they were better company than their mother.

Humming to myself I knelt down and carefully pulled up a loose floorboard and I snuck the invitation into an old shoe box. I had rescued the battered thing from my home before it was sold. I ran my eyes over the small trinkets I had saved, a rusting belt buckle, one of my mother's silver bangles, a lock of my sister's hair; a thousand tiny treasured memories locked away in a foreign dusty attic. There was no point in complaining, I was lucky not to be starving on the streets. I squared myself and pushed off the floor and walked to the wardrobe which snagged into the wall.

I opened the door and gently lifted the ball gown I was going to wear. It was one of the few mementoes I had of my mother making it old-fashioned, poorly fitting and dusty. Betsy, one of the numerous servants, had helped me tug it on around a week ago and we spent a stolen hour trying to make it fit. Sighing I embraced the joy of the memory, threaded my needle and set to work on my mother's gown.

I heard footsteps around midnight, I didn't own a pocket watch so I couldn't say exactly, as I was finishing up the last bit of tricky porcelain lace on the collar.

"Miss Taylor I am coming up, make sure you're decent" came a familiar and hearty voice from behind the small wooden door.

"Come in Besty, I am just finishing up my dress" I responded a real smile gracing my lips as Besty opened the door. Besty was a short, thin woman with dark blonde hair and a boisterous personality.

"Lemme looks at the gown Miss Taylor" I happily stood up and held the gown to my body and did a little twirl in response to Besty's command in her typical northern drawl.

"Why it looks gorgeous Miss," she said her face glowing "I am damm sure Mrs Cavendish is going to be eating her words when she sees you looking so pretty" she playfully quipped. Besty was one of the few servants that I felt comfortable enough to talk to, usually, it was a stiff nod and a respectful Miss Taylor at most. Without Besty, 14 Delcott Close grew into a cold cave, the only other light being the children who were often smothered by Mr and Mrs Cavendish.

"The last thing I need is Mrs Cavendish getting annoyed with me Besty" I responded lowly.

"You know you are the best governess those children have ever had" Besty said, taking me by the shoulder and sitting me on the bed so we sat side by side. Besty sounded and looked a lot older than most first thought, her sweetness and youth had been beaten out by the toil of service, no one would think we were the same age.

"Why do you say that?" I said as I draped the dress gently over the small chair, next to the bed due to the tightness of the room.

"Because you have been able to survive seven long years putting up with that peacock," she said. It was true that Mrs Cavendish was a beautiful, vain, cold woman yet I pitied her. She reminded me of an overbred puppy that had been spoiled.

"I have had a lot of time to practise" I said letting a small smile pull at my lips. Besty let out a loud brash laugh before she bid me goodnight and wished me luck with tomorrow night's ball.

I quickly got ready for bed, Mrs Cavendish would still have me up to doing needlework at dawn even though I was chaperoning at the Black Prince's Ball. I undressed and slipped into a cotton night dress and I sighed as I let my scalp relax. Making quick work of washing my face, I tucked myself into the small cot and dreamt of the Black Prince's Ball.

14 Declott Close seemed to be vibrating with excitement at the prospect of The Black Prince's Ball. I had been woken up by one of the housemaids nervously pocking at my shoulder, by lunchtime, they were aching.

The Black Prince's Ball was a private masquerade which would open the London Season and had invited the wealthiest and most prestigious people across Europe. Princes, Ambassadors, Merchants, it was rumoured that even the Tzar of Imperial Russia would be there. London had been abuzz with the news of the Masque being held by the equally despised and enchanting, mysterious Black Prince. I honestly didn't think Jaskier would have been able to even sneak me in, let alone get a ticket.

As the day sped on, 14 Dellcot Close became frantic and a growing feeling of dread had begun to fester in the pit of my stomach. Elizabeth and Maria were alight at the prospect of falling in love with a courtly, rich, handsome suitor as they tried on mountains of dyed silk. My young charges were the perfect images of youth and beauty and though I should have been pleased, my heart was full of dread for the evening to come.

"You look beautiful Miss Taylor," said Betsy softly, unlike Maria and Elizabeth only Betsy was spared to help me get ready. Even then Mrs Cavendish had taken 3 shillings off my already meagre wages for it. Smiling, I swayed in the pretty white dress in front of the small mirror which clung to a scrap of wall. The gown was the finest I had worn since I was 15, I twirled and let out a giggle as the silk and lace drifted against my darned stockings. Betsy clapped as I finished my twirling and gave her a low curtsy which made her snort with laughter.

"Thank you for helping me Betsy I don't know how to repay you" I said giving her a warm smile as I arranged my hair, adding sprigs of roses which Betsy had snatched for me.

"You can thank me by getting out of this bloody house and having a good time for one night. I swear that peacock has been running you dry." she retorted, putting her hands on her hips.

"Goodnight Betsy, I won't let you down," I said adding the final touches to my hair and sliding on my mother's bracelet. I turned, picking up the invitation, we headed out of the small door and down the stairs, Betsy following behind me.

"Miss Taylor Miss Taylor, you look so beautiful" squeaked Elizabeth as I entered the high hallway. Elizabeth and Maria stood by the door in the most beautiful swaths of silk I had ever seen. Maria wore an airy light blue gown with champagne flowers and Elizabeth was dressed in powdered pink, they looked positively angelic.

I felt a hard tug on my elbow, Mrs Cavendish had appeared next to me. Her thick Parisian perfume filled my nose as she hissed into my ear as her daughter's backs were turned. "You are their guardian for this evening. That means no dancing, no flirting, no drinking. Do we understand each other Diana?". I flinched at the use of my Christian name and nodded sharply, refusing to look into her eyes.

"You look so beautiful my dear girls" Her voice shifted from cruel to dotting as she swanned up to Maria and Elizabeth, a proud smile etched onto her face. My face burned, and I clenched the gauzy fabric of my rather plain-looking gown by comparison. "O my darlings the carriage is here, you must not be late" she continued in that sing-song voice and I obediently followed my chatty charges into the darkness of the hired coach.