Chapter 93
Ten days later, Randolph Winters hosted a grand banquet for Thalia at Great Fosters, his newly acquired estate in Surrey. Although the event was scheduled for seven o'clock, Thalia rose at eight that morning to begin her preparations.
At a previous Blackwood family dinner, Lady Blackwood had insisted that proper British girls wear traditional evening gowns. Thalia initially considered commissioning a bespoke gown from a London couturier, but recalling the banquet hall's Medieval European Rococo aesthetic, she opted for something more elaborate.
She chose a light blue, Rococo-style, off-the-shoulder gown inspired by Marie Antoinette's attire in the 1956 film, "The Queen of Fashion." Numerous petticoats and a pannier created a magnificently wide silhouette. A structured corset accentuated her waist and décolletage, complementing her figure. The luxurious silk gown featured intricate lace and pearl embellishments, exuding elegance and regality.
Her stylist provided a platinum blonde wig styled in period fashion, swept back on top and cascading in European curls on either side, adorned with ornaments matching the gown. Light blue contact lenses completed the transformation, creating a blonde-haired, blue-eyed look that perfectly complemented the Rococo style. Thalia's naturally porcelain complexion needed minimal makeup—a light foundation and subtle lip color sufficed.
Great Fosters was approximately an hour's drive from Thalia's Tribeca apartment. At five o'clock, Asher arrived at the stylist's salon to collect Thalia, momentarily stunned by her transformation.
"You're here," she said with a gentle smile.
Asher, impeccably dressed in period-appropriate formal attire with subtly waved hair, cut a dashing figure. Thalia adjusted her appearance in the mirror. Asher approached, bowing slightly and extending his hand. "My little princess," he murmured.
Thalia placed her hand in his. He raised it to his lips, kissing it reverently and speaking in flawless French: "Ma princesse, puis-je avoir l’honneur de vous escorter ce soir?"
Thalia returned his smile, replying in equally perfect French: "Mais bien sûr."
An hour later, their Rolls-Royce Cullinan arrived at Great Fosters. The car glided along the broad driveway, lined with majestic plane trees whose bare winter branches fractured the grey sky into a delicate lattice of shadows. The magnificent Tudor-Gothic mansion dominated the landscape.
The estate, larger than the Powell residence, encompassed over two hundred acres. The main house, an imposing historic structure, was complemented by period cottages and guest accommodations. Evergreens provided lush greenery, even in winter, while the expansive gardens boasted rare specimens and architectural follies. Amenities included a helipad, ornamental lake, swimming facilities, private cinema, tennis courts, gymnasium, and equestrian facilities.
Randolph, having studied in France and traveled extensively throughout Europe, spoke impeccable French with a Parisian accent. His formal attire and gestures exuded French aristocratic refinement; he favored Rococo and Baroque styles. This estate, recently purchased as part of Thalia's dowry, hosted its inaugural reception that evening.
Luxury vehicles continuously arrived. Uniformed security staff at the entrance verified invitations. The Cullinan, however, passed without inspection; security had memorized the registration plates of vehicles frequently used by the Blackwood and Winters families.
The car proceeded to the main building. Other guests' vehicles were directed to a designated parking area; only Winters, Blackwood, and Powell family cars were permitted to stop at the entrance.
Asher opened the door as the chauffeur parked. The estate butler, already waiting, bowed respectfully. Asher offered his hand to Thalia, who alighted gracefully.
The mansion doors stood wide open, a red carpet extending far into the interior, its end unseen from the entrance. Dozens of staff, in formal livery, lined both sides of the carpet, bowing and calling in unison: "Good evening, Miss Winters! Good evening, Mr. Blackwood!"
Arm in arm, Thalia and Asher walked elegantly into the mansion.
The ground floor banquet hall, designed after the Versailles ballroom, was magnificent. Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, adorned with Renaissance-inspired murals. The grandeur rivaled that of Versailles itself. Inside, an orchestra played gentle classical melodies as guests conversed and clinked champagne flutes.
Thalia and Asher's arrival immediately captured everyone's attention. The crowd parted to create a path as they entered, hand in hand, as elegant and noble as a royal couple.
Grace Bennett, in a traditional British evening gown, looked conspicuously out of place amidst the French aesthetic. Although there was no dress code, witnessing Thalia and Asher, she felt a pang of jealousy and resentment. Their entrance eclipsed all other guests, including Grace.
Observing Thalia and Asher mingling, Grace spoke to Lady Blackwood Sr. with a caustic undertone: "Grandmother, look at Thalia's attire. You explicitly stated at our family dinner that her choice was inappropriate, and she should embrace her British heritage, yet she's gone further with this elaborate costume. She's even wearing a blonde wig! Isn't she simply putting on airs? It seems she's deliberately trying to provoke you, doesn't it?"
Lady Blackwood, decidedly traditional and wary of foreign influences, held strong opinions about preserving British traditions. Despite changing times and globalization, her views remained entrenched.
Grace's remarks incensed Lady Blackwood. She glared at Thalia, who was cheerfully conversing nearby. "She deliberately appears before me dressed like this, knowing my views, and she's influencing Asher as well. His styling is utterly foreign. Having someone with so little respect for tradition as my grandson's wife would bring nothing but discord to our family!"
"Indeed, Grandmother," Grace added with feigned concern. "Asher never used to dress in such theatrical costumes; Thalia must have insisted upon it."
Lady Blackwood's expression darkened. "What a waste that I even apologized after the family dinner. This behavior shouldn't be indulged. Perhaps I wasn't firm enough in expressing my concerns previously."