"Start over. You missed a note," my mother says, as she continues with her needle point. I obey, and start the song from the top. I practice the piano for two hours every morning after breakfast, until my teacher comes to tutor me. Once he is gone, I continue the day with my singing lesson, then onto tea time. After tea I am aloud to do as I wish, as long as it is appropriate for a lady. "Start again," she repeats. I sigh, and start over once more, focusing more this time, as not to have to start it a third time. "Ma'am, a letter from Lady Florence Ethel," a maid comes in, handing a letter to my mother. "Thank you Emily," My mother smiles. The maid bows her head, and leaves the room. I continue playing the complicated piano piece, as my mother has not tolled me to stop. "We have been invited to tea with Lady Florence tomorrow. I think it would be a lovely thing for you to attend. You have been to tea with many men and women of influence, but never anyone nearly as powerful as Lady Florence and Lord William," she says. "Yes mother," I say. "You can be finished with your piano. Go upstairs and get ready to leave. We're going to go get fitted for new dresses," she says, standing up, and walking upstairs. The sound of her heeled boots clacking against the wood flooring, echoing through the house as she went. I stand up from the piano stool, and also go upstairs, but heading into my own room. I reach inside my wardrobe, and fetch my fan, and my hat. I walk to my mirror, and secure my hat to my pinned up hair. Nothing as boring as getting fitted for a new dress. I do hope we wander into a few shops along our way though. There was a pair of gloves I had seen the other day, that match an elegant pink and white lace hat, that I so much wish mother will approve of. I pull my pair of white silk gloves with white lace trimming, out of a drawer, and slip them over my hands. I walk out of my room, closing the creaky door behind me. I hold my dress up slightly as I walk down the stairs, as not to step on it. My mother walks down the stairs, and smiles at me. "You are turning into such a beautiful young lady," she says. "How could I not with a mother as beautiful as my own," I reply. She smiles and then holds out her arm for me to take. I take her arm, and we walk outside where a horse and carriage were waiting. We climb in, and the coachman closes the door for us. "Now, you must have the best manors tomorrow. This is not something we can take lightly. Lady Florence is very sweet and a dear friend of mine, but also very powerful, so you must do your best to make a good impression. Not only on her, but the other lady's that will be there too. She has a daughter around your age, who I hear is very beautiful, and a little full of herself. No matter what she is like, you must get along with her," she says. I nod my head, and continue to listen to her. "Once we first get there, you will stay with me so I can introduce you to everyone. You will sit with me during tea, and then after I want you to go and sit and talk with her daughter. Always keep a conversation going, so it won't make you seem dull. It seems like a lot, but it really is not. It all comes very naturally for you so you should have no trouble," she says. I nod my head again. "I believe she has a son about 20 years of age. I don't ever want you alone with him, that wouldn't be appropriate, not at the age your at. Your at the age we should start looking for a husband for you, so you can start courting," she says. "Mother. I'm only 16, I'm not ready for marriage," I tell her. "Not quiet yet, I know. But it is something we should start thinking about," she says. We hit a bump in the road, knocking us around a bit, but we go back to our conversation. "I don't want to be married off. It's not right, I want to marry for love," I say. "You won't have a choice, it's whatever your father and I decide is best for your future, and our future," she replies. "So if you decide a man I find revolting, I still must marry him?" I ask. "As long as he fits our standards, then yes," she says. "And your standards are what exactly?" I ask her. "We will discuss this with your father later. For now I must prepare you for tea tomorrow," she says. I sigh. Having tea has always been a delight, and I enjoy the conversation with the lovely people, but when it comes to preparing for it, my mother makes me feel as if I'm preparing to go to war.