‘Crap! Bloody corset!’
Twang!
‘Crap, crap, crap! Fit already!’
A few moments and curses later, I pulled aside the curtain and beamed at the little tailor, who was supporting himself by holding on to the corner of his counter.
‘And? How do I look?’
‘Um…magnificent, err…Sir?’
I took a long, critical look at myself in the full-length mirror on the wall. ‘Hm…I agree, not bad. Red is a nice colour on me. But there’s a certain something missing.’
I disappeared back behind the curtain.
Snap!
Twong!
‘Bloody stinking Hell!
Twang!
‘Blast, blast, blast!’
Once more, I reappeared.
‘And? What do you say?’
‘Grgsfgl.’
Since that was not very constructive criticism, I stepped in front of the mirror again to give myself a once-over - and a broad smile broke over my face. The dark green-blue dress was magnificent. Every inch of the shimmering fabric seemed to hover just between the deep blue of a still pool and the green of the deep forest, making me look like some wild goddess, freshly returned from the hunt. Or, better yet, about to embark on one.
‘Perfect! I’ll take it, the red one, and those accessories there. How much?’
‘Nnnfgdl.’
‘How much is that in pounds sterling?’
‘Um…err…three pounds two shillings, please, Si- um…Mada…’
I placed the money on the counter. ‘Here you go. Thank you, Sir. You’ve been a great help.’
Whistling, I stepped outside, my purchases partly under my arm, partly fitting very comfortably on my body. The air was still cold outside, but it had stopped snowing, and the wind had calmed down to a breeze. So I set out towards Battlewood the same way I had come: on my own two feet.
I reached the hall just in time for breakfast. My first instinct was to enter the main house and direct my steps to the little pink breakfast room, where the four of us usually consumed the first meal of the day. But then I saw movements through the glass panes of one of the winter gardens and stopped, squinting through the foliage.
Yes, there they were! Adaira, Lady Samantha and Mr Ambrose sitting around a small table amidst the greenery, chatting amiably over their breakfast. Or at least the two women were chatting amiably, while Mr Ambrose was sitting in silence morosely. Well…time to liven things up a bit.
Quickly and silently, I crossed the distance to the winter garden’s outside door. With cautious fingers, I gripped the doorknob, twisted and pushed. The door swung open without a noise.
‘…first guests are going to start arriving soon. I’ve already received letters from many of our old friends and neighbours - and from ladies, oh, such charming young ladies - saying they’d all be delighted to come. Isn’t that wonderful?’
‘Indeed.’
‘And the Pearsons say their daughter is now ready for her coming out, and they asked whether she might have her debut at our ball. Little Philomela has grown into quite a charming young lady, apparently.’
‘Indeed?’