Scarcely can I contain my excitement for tomorrow! I’ve long awaited the day, and finally it has arrived! Tomorrow I, Chrysalisa Flutterbey, shall make my debut in society in the presence of all my friends, relations, and our numerous connections.
I have, of course, invited my dear friend Motharie Dustiwings, and I must say we’ve picked the perfect hats for tea before the occasion. (Thank goodness for Honeybee Hat Shoppe!) I do hope she’ll enjoy herself at my debut. She is such a nervous, particularly flighty thing lately, the poor dear. At the last party we attended, Monocle Mantis asked her for THREE dances—could anyone imagine so bold a thing?—knowing PERFECTLY WELL it would be impolite of her to refuse! So I am now sworn to protect her in case of the gentleman’s attention and to thwart his advances in any way that a lady might. After all, there may be plenty of other fellows who would wish for a dance with my dear Motharie, who is such a pretty, wide-eyed thing with beautiful, feathery antennae. She fears they are just too afraid to cross a praying mantis. “Preying mantis,” more like. But Mother and Father insisted that we invite him, so I’m afraid there’s no way around it.
Speaking of unwanted guests invited by my parents, Lady Stingsperil in all her waspy waspishness shall be in attendance. I just know she’ll find something to criticize. Perhaps the goldenrod punch or the assorted hors d’oeuvres. I happen to like milkweed brulée and pollen tarts very much, and if they aren’t good enough for her sophisticated palate, I’d just as soon have more for myself. I simply despise the way she zips in and hovers about, with her horrible mandible just ready to spew out a perfectly-timed, backhanded compliment. “Oh, good evening, Miss Flutterbey. My, what an endearing, little party. If I wasn’t such a slave to fashion and sophistication I might host more parties like this one.” No one is safe from her sting. Although…there is one gentleman who handles himself just fine when it comes to Lady Stingsperil.
This gentleman is Detective Chief Inspector Spindson. No matter what remarks she has for him, the Detective Chief Inspector always seems to come back like he had seen the remark on its way five minutes before. I do adore his bristly muttonchops and the way he leans back just a little with his arms crossed whenever he’s ready to launch a clever observation. I insisted that he absolutely must be invited, especially after he helped track down the buzzing culprit who’d flown away with my sapphire hatpin. I admit to more than one untoward thought toward the Detective Chief Inspector. Oh, to be able to dance the waltz with him, a gentleman of such poise and quiet wit…I can’t deny that there is a certain thrill in knowing the dangerous nature of his ancestors and their elaborate webs. I suppose it’s a good thing we’re beyond such savage times, now in an age in which insect- and arachnid-kind can dance together in the same room. Of course, Lady Stingsperil had something to say about that at a party we all attended at last season’s end. “My, can you imagine waltzing with six legs of your own to keep track of? And if your dance partner had eight? How dreadful. Although, dear Chief Inspector Spindson, you seem to have quite a time of it with just two legs of your own.”
“I’m sure, fair Lady Stingsperil, that no grace can match your ability to so elegantly patronize those around you.”
I do think that once I heard those words and saw the look on Lady Stingsperil’s face, that night became one of the greatest nights of my life. But let us see how that night compares to my debut tomorrow! At long last, I’ll be the true social butterfly I was meant to be, and no one can say otherwise. I, a grown-up lady, will finally be allowed to dance the waltz, to step and turn amidst so many happy adults…and be one of them. Dare I even dream that Detective Chief Inspector Spindson might ask for a dance? He usually refrains from any dancing, but perhaps the stars will align in my favor on such a magical night. Oh, if it were to happen, I’m sure I would die of happiness! Perhaps I can ask my dear Motharie to help arrange it…
More tomorrow, diary! I’m sure I’ll have plenty to share after the party…
Yours truly, anxiously waiting,