The Duke of Stratton's Annual May Day Ball. The event of the year. Everyone, even the peasantry, coveted an invitation to the lavish gala. All the ladies would show off their beautiful dresses, and their dance cards would be filled to the brim. The refreshments were to die for, nothing but the finest wines and delicacies. Toasts were made by selected guests, sometimes poking fun at their toastees, gossiping even, but all was in good faith. Everyone who attended always enjoyed the unofficial first of Spring.
This year, in particular, was an eventful one. The usual elegant invitations included a new line "All guests are encouraged to wear a piece of green clothing in support of the Bobbin Boys' Bureau." Now, reader, the Bobbin Boys' Bureau was a noble organization that advocated for safer conditions for the factory's children, as, please note, such labor would not be banned in Odira for another fifteen years. Lately, they'd been causing quite a stir among the factories. Some children were beaten by the foremen for doing a job incorrectly, and some employers refused to compensate families for any injuries on the job. Awful, isn't it? The Bureau had thankfully begun to fight for reforms as more of this treachery was exposed. They'd caught the attention of the noble class, and had been thriving more than ever thanks to a flood of donations.
When May Day came, carriages flocked to the Duke's lavish home, and the ballroom was soon filled with a verdant sea. Ladies were in gowns of emerald, lime, mint, seafoam, even sage! Many men remained in black, but their ties and ascots were a vibrant olive, chartreuse, forest, pine, juniper! Verdant, simply verdant! The counts, countesses, earls, Marquess', lords, ladies mingled and bragged about how much they donated to their newfound cause, and expressed their outrage at how the poor children were treated. All were merrymaking, if not discussing politics, until one lady in particular arrived.
It wasn't as if Lady Cora Faraday was of the utmost importance, her family had many riches, though her father was merely a baron. Not an earl, just a baron. Yet, all had turned to look at her as she entered. Her gown was magnificent, embroidered with flowers and little vines, and obviously imported and tailored, so the poor factory children had no part in its creation. But, what really got the guests' attention, was that it was a vibrant garnet.
Lady Faraday greeted those she knew as if nothing was wrong, and all at the same time people could not stop staring at her gown. Why was she not wearing a shade of green?
"She's always been quiet about her politics, perhaps this is why," the Countess of Vandervelle whispered.
"How cruel," the Earl Stryker noted, "She must not care about the plight of the children at all!"
The merrymaking continued, but not without plenty of stares and gawk at Lady Faraday's choice of gown. She herself attempted to ignore it all, but the nobility was being a lot more insufferable than usual. The Duke stood and tapped his glass, much to her relief.
"Ladies and gentleman, I thank you again for attending my May Day Ball. May your spring be filled with good fortune and promise," he began, "However, this year, we must show our support for the young children working in our factories. They are denied food, are constantly in danger of losing limbs, and are denied fair pay for their long hours. These good gentlemen of the Council of Labor shall be convinced of reforms thanks to your overwhelming support..."
The Duke gestured to two well-dressed old men in blue sashes. They seemed incredibly disinterested in the Duke's address. Lady Faraday couldn't blame them.
"That is..." the Duke continued, "Mostly overwhelming support."
His gaze shifted coldly to Lady Faraday, who had been fanning herself. All too abruptly, she closed her fan and stood.
"With all due respect, your grace, I find that incredibly offensive," she said.
"Well, my lady, I find your lack of support for this issue more offensive," he replied.
"Who says I don't support this? I adore children, and I hate to see them getting hurt and underfed. Actually, I have planned to donate to the Bureau myself."
"Oh, but of course!" Countess Vandervelle cut in indignantly, "So have we, have you not been listening to the chatter? If you really care for the children, you should have joined us in wearing a green hue!"
"I'd rather not get into a political debate at the moment," said Lady Faraday, "Although perhaps I should have been warned of that when I entered... No... When I received my invitation. And, pardon me for speaking out of turn, your grace, but, I believe your invitation was to a ball celebrating the coming of spring, so that's what I, and presumably many here came for. I don't recall being cordially invited to a political rally. And one certainly does not take place in this kind of setting."
She turned away and headed for the doorway, but stopped once more with a few final words.
"I say, if you truly care as I do, find a better, less irksome way. It seems those nice gentlemen do not seem convinced by your jaded sea."
The next day, Lady Faraday had not only donated the large sum of 50,000 pieces as she promised, but she had also asked permission from the Bureau, and the nearest factories to deliver food to the children during their one midday break. Her outburst had cost her any invitations from the Duke of Stratton for the next seven years, but she felt soured upon attending any more of his events anyway, lest politics turn up in the wrong place again. As the Odiran history books go, the Abnernathy Act was put into place, banning child labor, and requiring all children to attend school instead. Many patrons were eager to support the new cause for education, though one stood out among the rest for her hands-on work, Countess Cora Lombard, born Lady Cora Cheryl Faraday.