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Huge, wrought iron gates blocked the road to Annandale. Looking out of our carriage, I could see our family crest in the twisted metal. On either side of the gates, a low brick wall stretched off into the distance. As our horses approached, a man emerged from a small gatehouse and pulled a lever on the wall. With a grinding clank, the gates swung inward and we rode through. I turned in my seat to watch the gates move back into place.

Massive lawns sprawled on either side of the small, stone road that led up to the house. They looked perfectly groomed, as if each blade of grass had been cut by hand. As we grew closer to the house, large white pavilion tents were being constructed. Two had gone up at a right angle to one another and a third was being put up to make three sides of a square. I had seen these types of things at festivals when I was younger. Dozens of workers scurried about the tents tying down ropes or putting down wooden platforms. Beside me, Aunt Ethel tutted, "They're going to ruin the grass."

Finally, the coach came to a stop in front of Annandale. The plantation house loomed over us, its fresh white paint illuminated by the waning sun. Dozens of windows glowed with light on either side of the front steps. Large, marble columns created cool shadows where wicker furniture lurked, ideal for late breakfasts. On the steps, several servants waited. Once we exited the coach, they snapped into action, unloading the luggage and offering us water with lemon. I took a glass with a bashful smile. We had servants and hired help before, but not like this.

The cool drink quenched my parched throat, easing the congestion caused from the dust and smoke of the road. My father barked a few orders to people before turning to me, "And what do you think so far?"

"It's everything I could have imagined," I replied, genuinely

"Wait till you see the rest," he said. "Stewart, take Anna and her things up to her room, please." One of the men unloading the coach gave a sharp nod and yelled out for some help. I watched them gather up my trunk and quickly cart it into the house. "Go on then," my father said. "Go take a look around. I need to go speak with Bartleby." He clapped his hands together and strode off towards the pavilion tents.

Aunt Ethel and Elsa were in deep conversation about something that was evidently boring the both of them, so I went up the steps and into the house. A young woman immediately approached me. "Lady Anna, welcome!," she squeaked as she helped me remove my traveling cloak. I turned to speak with her, but before I could, she had darted away.

The interior of the house was very different from the clean, crisp exterior. The furniture and walls of the entryway were a rich mahogany color. The small hallways led towards a grand staircase which led up to the second floor. To my left, a door opened into a sitting room, and on the right was the ballroom. I gasped as I entered the room I had seen in so many of my dreams.

My soft steps on the floor echoed through the expansive room. Two enormous, golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the floral frescoes above them. The floor was wooden and made from interwoven planks of different hues, making a mesh pattern that was astoundingly beautiful by itself. The east side of the ballroom had tall windows surrounded by navy blue drapes with silver tassels, and in the center of the wall a tall glass door. I went over and opened the veranda door and felt the warm night air rush inside. The pavilion was being constructed so that the ballroom would extend out to the white tents, creating a massive area for the party. I realized that it would take hundreds of people to fill.

A sudden feeling of dread welled up inside of me. All those years of daydreaming about a grand ball at Annandale, I had never once stopped to think about the actual people who would attend. In my head, I had imagined all these nameless, faceless spectators watching as I danced the night away with a charming prince, but those people did have names and faces. Each of them would be watching me and judging me.

I stepped back into the ballroom, away from the banging of hammers and the men shouting. The cavernous ballroom made me seem so small. I had known a few others my age growing up, but for the most part my only companions were Elsa and my aunt. On occasion, I would interact with distant cousins or the children of my father's associates, but those times were few and far between. How many of them would attend the ball? Who would the hundreds of others be?

On the wall opposite the veranda door, several ornate mirrors hung between the doors leading to the north-south hallway. I knew they were placed to double the size of the room, making it seem even larger and filling an imagined space with the reflections of hundreds of guests. In this too, I seemed small and isolated. My aunt had told me that I was a pretty girl, but nothing special. I took great confidence in this as Aunt Ethel rarely coated the truth. She told me that I had my mother's high cheekbones and an "envious bosom." The latter part always making me blush. I also shared my mother's dark red hair and her height, from what my father told me. In heels, I had to bend my neck down to kiss the top of his forehead. Assessing myself in the mirror, I looked scrawny, but I had only just left the coach after a day's ride. My dress was wrinkled and plain looking as it was meant for travel. Despite being surrounded by the splendor of my new home, a wave of insignificance took hold of me.

"Excuse me, Lady Anna?" came a voice, tearing me out of my self inflicted doldrum. Stewart, the footman, was standing at attention by the door. "We've prepared your quarters if you'd like to see them."

I followed Stewart back out into the main corridor and up the stairs. Much like the entryway, the upstairs hallways were rich brown wood and soft carpets. Stewart walked with a crisp gait and rigid posture. I thought it strange how all of these people knew who I was though they had never laid eyes on me before. Stranger still was how they treated me. Elsa had never been so rigid. He led me down the hallway to a seemingly random door. "This will be your room if you find it to your liking, milady" Stewart said as he opened the door.

Inside was a bedroom much like Aunt Ethel's from our previous home. A single bed with a white canopy, a small sitting area around a fireplace, and a dressing area with a large vanity. A young woman waited in the room with her hands folded across her front, dressed in the dark attire of a lady's maid. Stewart introduced her, "Lady Anna, this is Marie Campbell, who will serve as your attendant if you find that you get along."

The pretty young woman, who seemed to be a few years my elder, came over and slightly bowed to me. I grinned broadly, "Oh please, no, that won't be necessary. No one has ever bowed to me in my life."

Marie smiled nervously, "Apologies, miss, but you are the daughter of Lord Ingram, it is the expectation that we show you the respect of that position."

Stewart clicked his tongue impatiently. "Very well then, if you will excuse me, I have other duties to attend to. Marie will be able to help you settle." Stewart did not bow, but gave me a slight nod before he darted back down the hallway.

Marie struck up her courage and spoke again, "We've put away your things and I've laid out your clothes for dinner." She moved over to the dressing area where she picked up one of my dresses from a hook, "I thought this would be nice for your first time at Annandale. The colors will compliment your hair and match your family crest."

"You know our family crest?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course, miss," Marie said, putting away the dress. "We've been training for weeks to best serve the Ingram family. Placement on the estate is very competitive."

I was suddenly bursting with questions. My father had been so secretive about the move and now I had an insider's view of the whole ordeal. I took her hand and pulled her over to the small sitting area. "Please, Marie, I have no idea what is expected of me here. Clearly things are much different now. I've never had a lady's maid before. To be honest, I don't even know what one is for. Am I expected to change for dinner every night or is this a special occasion? I'm entirely lost."

Marie smiled, more comfortably than before, "If we're being honest, Miss, then I can say that you are the first lady I've ever worked for. Miss Elsa warned us that you might be a little," she struggled to find the right word "....unwieldy."

I furrowed my brow at this strange concern coming from Elsa, "What exactly does that mean? I'm not unwieldy. I'm perfectly wieldy."

"I didn't mean any offense, milady. Miss Elsa said that you did not have the traditional upbringing. I've heard it's not uncommon after all the troubles."

"You mean the war?"

"Yes. The lords all abandoned their estates during the war and service folk like myself or my mother went unemployed. Of course that meant a whole generation of young lords and ladies were brought up outside of the traditional style. I know a girl that works for Lord Locke and she says that young Theodore is a hellion who refuses to have a valet and will steal down to the kitchen and prepare his own meals."

I knew my father had talked of Locke before and I found nothing strange about the idea of making a meal yourself. I started to press with more questions, but our conversation was interrupted by a loud cracking sound. Both of us listened as we heard shouting from the main corridor. They were cries for help. Marie said darkly, "Sounds like an accident. Wait, milady, where are you going?"

I ignored her and headed for the doorway. Pulling my skirt into a knot to clear it off my feet, I ran down to the stairwell and followed the shouting out onto the lawn. It did not occur to me that this was not the response a young lady should have to such a thing. Dozens of men were shouting and running back and forth. One of the pavilion's main poles had collapsed and trapped a man underneath. The pole was a long, rounded timber that surely weighed several hundred pounds. Ropes and pulleys used to erect it in the first place had become a tangled mess and the collapsing tent made discerning what was happening difficult.

A team of men, including my father, was trying to lift the pole by hand, but making little progress. Amid the din, I heard the clatter of hooves and looked towards the gate. A rider was galloping up the lane at top speed. He broke off across the lawn, heading straight for the accident, his steed tearing large divots in the lawn. The horse reared up as the rider jumped down and dashed over to the fallen pole. The rider moved quickly and assuredly. He grabbed the shoulder of one of the workers and tossed him aside taking the man's place.

My father gave a loud count of three and all the men lifted. I watched the rider. He showed no sign of strain or effort, but the timber lifted with sudden ease. I heard a gasp beside me and realized that Marie had come out to watch as well. Several other men quickly grabbed hold of the injured worker and pulled from underneath the fallen log. The timber dropped back to the ground with a heavy thud.

My father and the others gathered around the injured man, but I kept my eyes fixed on the strange rider. "Marie," I asked, "Who is that man?"

"Langston Black. He works with your father, manages the factories. I've known him since we were children."

"Black? I've never heard him mention a family by that name," I said, thoughtfully. My father often extolled a list of the noble families that I was destined to meet. Though it seemed strange that he would omit the name of one of his managers so close to my age, as I had realized earlier, I knew only a small fraction of the society I would soon enter. As I was lost in my efforts to recall any mention of a Langston Black, the injured man had been carted off and my father had walked over to us.

"Don't worry my dear!" he boomed. "These folk are tough as nails, and he was only a bit scratched. The ground gave way beneath him, though he'll be bruised and have several broken ribs. It won't put a damper on the big event. Ah, Marie, how are you managing?" Father carried on in a forced good humor, but my gaze remained on Mr. Black until he disappeared in the flurry of workers raising the tent once again.