(Story begins here.)
Ordinarily though Anton would not take the socially obligated manner of calling a mere woman a ``lady'', but having lived in this county for a while now, he had realised that many of the women that he had the pleasure of conversing with or interacting with had little doubt about their pedigree, that they were ladies in the truest sense of the word. It was not about the hint of nobility in them---blue-bloodedness was not something that the social construct of the county cared much for---but more of the way in which they carry themselves that set them apart from the mere difference in gender. They were, as some might call it, dainty yet strong, docile yet not servile, sweet yet not saccharine.
In short, they were true ladies by manner of their carriage.
The horse and carriage made its way along the main road and turned in to the gravel road that led to the patio of the manor in which Anton and the housekeeper were standing in anticipation. The driver masterfully commanded the beast to slow from its trot to a walk as he steered along the curving gravel road. The carriage followed along smoothly and as it slowed down under the patio to a standstill, Anton could finally make out the features of his dining guests.
Lady Crawford was the first person who seemed to catch the eye of Anton; she was, after all, the lady whom he had caught a glance of while the horse and carriage were still making its way towards the manor. She wore a pastel dress that glowed a light chrome colour under the flickering lights of the gas lamps, with gloves and hat on. Anton could not quite see her face just yet due to all the shadows of her wide-brimmed hat. Mr Crawford was a man of stern consternation, though his eyes held a spark that seemed to betray his wild nature despite being in the shadows themselves. He was dressed in a regular dinner jacket and matching hat and pants.
The driver nodded at the housekeeper who tapped Anton lightly on the arm.
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