Victorian etiquette fascinates me, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. Every emotion, from courtship to marriage, was carefully wrapped in custom and propriety. Behind the strict rules, however, were the same emotions we know today—love, uncertainty, and the thrill of being chosen.
In the late Victorian era, few announcements caused such flurries of excitement, or scrutiny, as an engagement. Once a promise of marriage was exchanged, etiquette swiftly stepped in to guide the proper behavior of all involved.
The first duty was clear: inform the relatives. Both families were expected to hear the news directly, and as promptly as possible. It was then the place of the groom’s parents and relations to call upon the bride-to-be. If distance made that impractical, they were to write her a letter of welcome, extending every courtesy as she was received into their circle.
When word of the engagement spread through the neighborhood, friends and acquaintances of the young woman’s family would come to offer congratulations, while those farther away sent notes of good wishes for her happiness. The bride-to-be was expected to reply to every message without delay, for prompt correspondence was a mark of both good manners and gratitude.
Next came introductions of the groom to the bride’s family. Her relatives were expected to invite the couple to visit or stay with them, allowing everyone to become better acquainted with the man soon to join the family.
A young woman could never, under any circumstances, ask for an engagement ring—it was the gentleman’s duty to bring up the subject and to present it without undue delay. The ring, once given, was worn on the third finger of the left hand, a small but powerful symbol of devotion.
Victorian society had clear boundaries for courtship conduct, even if the couple had decided to marry. Engaged couples might attend entertainments together, such as concerts, dinners, or the occasional garden party, but always “within the bounds of moderation.” Public displays of affection were frowned upon, and even prolonged gazes were best avoided.
Neighbors often celebrated the engagement with a small dinner or evening at home. At such events, the newly promised pair were usually seated side by side, a charming acknowledgment of their future unity. The young woman was expected to prepare her trousseau—her clothing and personal items for married life—while the groom took responsibility for furnishing the home and providing household linens.
Even with all this delight, the Victorians recognized that an engagement was not entirely without strain. It was meant to be a season of joy, but often brought its share of nerves, especially for the bride-to-be, who found herself balancing the expectations of family with the emotions of a deepening attachment. “A time of perfect happiness,” the etiquette books called it, though perhaps one touched with anxiety as she learned to navigate her new place between daughter and future wife.
Still, for all its delicate rules, the period of engagement was considered a sacred promise. And whether celebrated with a ball, a quiet dinner among friends, or the simple gleam of a ring in candlelight, it marked the beautiful beginning of two lives joining in hope.
Kimberly Keagan is a former corporate financial writer (not very romantic) who now crafts historical romances filled with strong heroines, swoon-worthy heroes, faith, and a touch of humor. Her debut novel, Perfect, released in May 2025.
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