IC Day One, 1 January 1857

[Lammomedes]

Once everyone has gotten the clothing together, and their day has progressed in whatever way they chose to spend the rest of the day, darkness begins to settle over Calcutta as the winter sky turns from day to night. There is still plenty of time to get prepared for the ball, including picking up dresses, shirts, tailored suits, etc. as well as grabbing a quick meal before the festivities begin. Rumor indicates that the ball will likely continue well past midnight, and that there will be a good deal of drinking, eating and of course socializing with the leading British and European residents of the city. Gentlemen are expected to be on their best behavior, though who knows what will happen in such a gay and festive atmosphere and during such a special time of the year?

[Mr. Handy]

Julia Kaye receives her new saris when they arrive and brings them back to her room in the boarding house, where she changes into the purple one. She descends the stairs when it's time for the supper before the ball. Perhaps Arthur Dodgson will offer to be her escort, as he is going too.

[ghill]

In his room Strachan looked at his bearskin, fluffing the feathers of the white hackle, "wear or carry under his arm" he wondered, before placing it firmly on his head and placing the brass chin strap so it rested on rather than under his chin. The young Indian boy the hotel had sent up to help dress him handed Strachan his cloak which which he took with a flourish so it landed gently on the shoulders of his scarlet tunic. While the boy brushed him down, Strachan took the opportunity to look at himself in the mirror again. Adjusting the acorn of his sword knot so it fell in line with the double yellow stripes down the seams of his trousers, Strachan sniffed the collar of the cloak. Despite the best efforts of the hotel staff his uniform still smelt musty and there was a fain salt tang from the long sea voyage. Strachan sighed, at least the boy had done a good job on his boots, they and his ceremonial spurs gleamed.

Walking out to the waiting carriage Strachan's chest swelled with pride as he took in what he supposed were admiring gazes and whispered. Strachan was a handsome man and he knew it, being in the uniform of a cavalry officer didn't hurt either. If he was lucky he'd attract the eye of a wealthy plantation owners daughter and then all his money troubles would be over.

[markh]

In his room, Thomas Wakeham tugged uncomfortably at his tight uniform collar. He'd been out of formal wear too much, and despite the excellent work of the local tailor the damn thing still felt wrong. Or, he mused, perhaps it was him that felt wrong. He'd spent too much time in-country, where native dress helped him with village headmen who might not tell a pardesi that a fugitive had come through, but would speak to a man who looked like them and spoke their language. Not to mention that uniforms were damn uncomfortable for a day spent riding in the hills.

Giving the collar a last tug for good measure, he stepped out for the evening.

[Seon]

Lovell wore his glovesand his formal wear. He had been in them quite often nowadays. Too much time, apparently: even he could see that the clothes were fast getting worn. That was the problem with clothes. Nobody built them to last. It was all a conspiracy, Lovell often said. The clothesmaker wanted one to buy more clothes, so they purposefully made it easy to get worn.

Or maybe he was just insane. Lovell always took that into consideration.

He put on his best smile for the occasion and stepped out towards the ball.

[Gaffer]

Arthur Dodgson

Dodgson waited in the boardinghouse parlor in his best suit. He had the porter out to find a pony cart for hire. He rather hoped Miss Kaye would accept an offer to ride with him.

When Julia descends the stair in her saree-styled gown, he smiles broadly and steps forward to offer his arm. "Entrancing, Miss Kaye," he says.

By God, this is a new breed of missionary girl.

[Mr. Handy]

Julia smiles and takes Arthur's arm. "Thank you, Mr. Dodgson," she says. "You're looking rather dapper yourself this evening."

[Lammomedes]

The drive up to the front of the building was lit with burning torches set close to the ground. Dozens of carriages and coaches, as well as military men mounted on horses, waited patiently for their opportunity to dismount or disembark. They were greeted by Indian servants wearing European attire, offset with vast orange sashes and elaborate headpieces. No expense had been spared. As one approached the house, even on the drive, they could hear music coming from inside, including the most modern English pieces. The musicians seemed quite accomplished and the numbers gathered seemed to embrace just about everyone who was anyone within the English and European community here in Calcutta. There were also more than a few local Indian nabobs here as well, including one rajah who came atop a howdah on one of the largest Indian elephants anyone had seen. The creature was painted with garish colors and had a rather large diamond resting on its forehead. You watched the Governor's staff bring a small series of ladders and step stools to help those down from the back of the massive creature.

Finally it was your turn to alight and enter into the grand structure. The entrance hall was awash with light from hundreds of candles. Masses of people dressed in their finest gowns, suits and military uniforms were either waiting to enter or who had already entered into the structure. At the top of the steps were three European men, including one formally dressed gentleman introduced as 2nd Secretary Archibald Martins, who is representing the Company and the Governor-General at this event. As each invitation was handed over, the names of the guests was called out by one of the men, his loud voice gathering the attention of those gathered nearby whenever someone prominent was announced. The clock was striking 9 pm when it was your time to enter.

(OOC: The exact sequence of entry really doesn't matter).

Secretary Martins would check a small sheet of paper as each of you entered and then motion you to one side once your name was called out. "At 11 pm, your presence has been requested in the library on the 2nd floor by Secretary Talbot. It seems your meeting has been moved up. I am sorry for any change of plans this might cause, but the Company believes that time is of the essence. Until then, please enjoy the food, the drink and the dancing." You do notice that the list has only a half dozen or so names on it.

On the lower floor, people are gathered dancing in the central area of the great reception hall. Off to the left and right sides are smaller seating areas, and buffet style tables are lined up against the far walls. Waiters are moving through the crowd with expensive flutes of champagne and there seem to be other drinks available as well. Several large tea urns are also apparent, and people are moving between the seating areas, the dance floor, and the food lines. Nowhere are the lines overly long or any one space overly crowded, but there are quite a number of people present and the overall din of sound from conversation and music is loud but not deafening.

[Philulhu]

Granville arrived in somewhat of a hurry. Having spent too long out in the unfamiliar sun, he'd slept until late afternoon and then rushed to get ready. His new shirt was well made but highly starched, resulting in it irritating the shave rash on his neck. Knowing he was already late, Granville had opted to walk rather than wait for a cart. He was hot and bothered and feeling rather uncomfortable as he surveyed the gathered throng. He sipped a glass of champagne carefully and wondered what had occured to bring forward his appointment with Secretary Talbot.

[ghill]

Strachan handed over sword and bearskin to one of numerous servants, then tucking the small cloakroom ticket into his jacket he stepped into the ballroom. Quickly glancing around the huge room he soon stepped off into the throng making sure to keep out of the way of the dancers on the ballroom floor. His face assumed a slightly hang dog expression, only occasionally would he smile as he looked at those waltzing the night away, but then he would quickly resume the same sad face as he glanced down at a dance card which was clearly empty.

One thing repeatedly went through Strachan's mind as he did the rounds. "Never greet a lady in public unless she acknowledges you first." Young eligible ladies wouldn't even try and catch his eye, lest it be seen as to forward. Young married women probably wouldn't feel quite as reserved, but he wasn't interested in a mistress, they cost money which he didn't have. He was looking for the older women, the matrons because they were the ones who would give him the way in, make formal introductions to the younger eligible women and they were the ones with the dowrys.

[Mr. Handy]

Julia enters on Arthur Dodgson's arm and looks around the grand ballroom in awe. She has never seen such opulence before and feels overwhelmed with all the luxurious settings, the well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, and the rich food and drink. She has to mentally remind herself not to get used to it, as she knows she will soon be in more humble surroundings, wherever she is sent.

[markh]

Thomas was unsuprised at the change of time for the meeting. If he'd learned one thing about the army, it was that "hurry up and wait" was always the order of the day. He hadn't attended such a ball in years - the closest to English socialising he'd done for a while was politely taking tea at a senior officers bungalow. He'd been to one in Delhi, he mused, not long after he arrived in India. As he recalled, his younger self had been overawed by the sheer bustle of it all, and taken a bit too much punch while working up the courage to ask a girl to dance.

The (slightly) older and wiser version has no need of punch or dancing, he chuckled to himself. Well, maybe a small glass.

[Lammomedes]

The crowds were quite festive, dancing and drinking heartily, or they were gathered in small intimate circles of associates who were chatting away. In one room off the main ballroom, several European men in expensive suits were gathered talking to a small, rather diminutive (just 5' tall) Indian gentleman dressed in the extravagant traditional South Asian silk clothing, dyed a deep orange, saffron yellow and with hints of jade green primarily in his sash. He was also bedecked with jewels and including a rather large diamond set in a headpiece. Colorful would be an apt description of his chosen attire. Oddly, he had a monocle 'screwed' into his left eye, a small out of place European affectation. They were all speaking English and anyone bothering to hang around at the edge of the crowd would learn that he was a recent arrival, the Rajah Giriraj Dharmpal of the northern Oudh, whose name translated as the "king of the Mountains and protector of his Faith."

Elsewhere in the crowd, young men could see a line of so-called "wall flowers" waiting for the right offer to dance. Chaperones hovered around these young daughters of the Empire, but they were in the distance, almost as if they were encouraging their young charges at the beginning of this new year to seek out fun and excitement. Not too much of either mind you, but just enough to keep them distracted for several days. Many of these young women were eyeing the new arrivals, some might say with hungry nay desperate gazes, to remove them from the humility of being one of "them" (i.e. the other wall flowers too shy, unattractive or socially awkward to catch the gaze and subsequent dance with a gallant young man.)

For those of a military bent, several high ranking officers from the cantonment at Barrackpore about 15 miles/24km north of Calcutta could occasionally be seen throughout the hall. They came from a number of units stationed there, both regular British military and from East Indian Company presidential armies. For the regular British officers it was a chance to socialize with their company opposites, many of whom had served with them in their younger years. The soldiers were gathered together in clumps by rank, but out of the several hundred attendees at this gala event, there were perhaps no more than 50 or so, mostly junior officers with a scattering of senior ranks. In one out of the way corner, a number of junior subalterns were drinking and smoking while looking over the crowded chamber.

The food lined on the tables was a mixture of both English traditional New Year foodstuffs, including discretely several quite large haunches of rare roast beef, and more traditional local Indian cuisine, much of it heavily spiced and vegetarian. Alcohol was present, including bottles of domestically brewed English style ales and IPAs, as well as imported wines, and local fruit juices. Tea was in several large samovars, including teas from just about every part of the Bengal presidency.

It took a few moments, but those present would realize that other than the few Indian nobility present in their most expensive traditional attire, every other Indian in the room was either a servant or part of a scattering of soldiers providing protection to the guests.

[Mr. Handy]

"Shall we have supper?" Julia asks Arthur. "That roast beef looks delicious."

[ghill]

Strachan took his leave from another young lady, apparently her name was Elspeth apparently her father a senior clerk or something similar, she wanted him to agree to another dance but Strachan apologised and told her his card was already full. Grabbing a glass of champagne Strachan turned towards his next dance partner, a small smile crossed his lips, she wore a discreet pearl necklace around her neck. The way the girl kept checking the necklace was still around her neck made Strachan believe it was a newish gift, perhaps one bought for the ball, discreet or not her father must be worth a few bob.

OOC: Strachan will dance with as many ladys as his dance card and time permits always behaving as a proper gentleman. Strachan is angling for invitations to further functions, but he is never so crass and rude as to ask for one directly. At ten minutes to eleven he will make his way upto the 2nd floor library.

Edit: typos.

[markh]

Thomas took a slow turn around the hall, drifting past the crowd around the Rajah, and acquiring a small bowl of local food, which he had acquired a taste for over the past few years. Knowing it was likely to be well spiced, he picked a cup of fruit juice as well. Unable to spot anyone he recognised, he nevertheless resolved to be sociable with soldiers and officials, in the hope of finding out how the land lay for employment. While he had hopes of this upcoming meeting, it never hurt to have a few irons in the fire.

OOC,Thomas will look for anyone he knows, and failing that try to talk to "the right people". He believes his good HIndi is an advantage, and will grasp any opportunity to show it off. He will try to avoid dancing.

[Philulhu]

Taking a few moments to straighten his clothes, Granville made his way over to the punchbowl and waited patient while the Indian servant carefully ladled the drink into the glasses. Suitably refreshed, he took a turn of the room, looking out for any other junior ranks whom he might engage in conversation.

[Gaffer]

Arthur Dodgson

Dodgson escorts Julia around the buffet tables, advising her on the relative palatability of the various Indian dishes and carrying her plate. Once they are seated, he fetches some fruit punch for her and something a bit more fortifying for himself. He feels rather like a doting uncle. Once they have eaten and a servant has taken their plates, he rises and offers her his best bow.

"Might I have the pleasure of a dance, Miss Kaye?"

[Mr. Handy]

"I'd be delighted, Mr. Dodgson," says Julia with a smile, giving him her best curtsy in return. She lets Arthur lead her out to the dance floor.

[Seon]

"Thomas, was it?" Lovell said as he noticed the man drift by. "We meet again. I hope that you have not found any snakes under your pillows since the time we last met?"