She Walks in Beauty (4 page)

That was Mrs. De Vries?

What conclusions could be drawn about a woman who wore medium blue and ostrich feathers in her hat? About a woman whose family had somehow impugned my own family’s honor? Nothing other than the conclusions that might be drawn of any of the other women attending services. Mrs. De Vries was perfectly respectable. In every way. I couldn’t draw any conclusions at all.

It would have been nice to know, just the same, that she was … nice. That she wouldn’t hold it against me that I had been commanded to pursue her son. Especially when it hadn’t been my idea. Had I been able to escape my debut by magic or some other dark art, I might just have done it. But my family was counting on me. My father was counting on me. And I couldn’t disappoint him.

3

THE NEXT MORNING I was called into Aunt’s room. She had taken over one of the spare rooms and had it done up in deep reds and dark browns before she had moved in. I had only been there twice, but both times it had felt as if I were walking into an underground grotto—a particularly stuffy one. But at least the heavy curtains had been pried apart that morning to allow some rays of light.

The dog lying next to her rolled from its back and barked, alerting her to my presence. Seeing me, she put down her newspaper and raised a lorgnette to her eyes. “I require an apology.”

For my calling her a tyrant and a bully, no doubt.

“I’m waiting.
Have been waiting
. These five days now.”

“One only apologizes for actions one regrets having taken.”

An eyebrow poked up from her behind her eyepiece. “I require an apology and I’ll get one.”

“Then may I suggest you look elsewhere? You’ll not get one from me.”

Her nostrils flared as she took in a great, deep breath.

“Miss Miller was more than my teacher. She was my
friend
. She’d been my governess since Mama died.”

“Yes. And I sent her away because she failed to do her job.”

“But you didn’t even let me say good-bye!” To my complete and utter horror, I felt a tear bloom and then roll down my cheek.

“Then I apologize for my haste in dismissing her.” She tipped her head toward me in such a way that I knew it was my turn to reciprocate.

“Then I apologize for … having spoken to you in such a loud voice.”

“Your apology is accepted, as I assume mine was. Now then, let me take a look at you.”

I wiped at my tears as I stood there, not quite knowing what she wanted from me.

“Turn.”

Glad not to be witness to her scrutiny, I turned.

“Slowly.”

I turned slowly.

“Yes, yes … no. No, no, no!”

No?

“I must be able to
see
.” Aunt gestured to her maid. “Take off her gown.”

My gown? I put a hand up to my bodice, but I was not fast enough. No matter which way I turned to try to hide myself, the maid’s hands found me and soon I was standing before Aunt in just my chemise and drawers.

“Are those all yours?” One of her fingers was pointing in a rather specific way toward my chest.

“My … ?”

“Your bosoms. Are they all yours?”

I glanced down at them. My cheeks flushed with sudden heat. “Yes. Mostly.”

“Mostly? What is that to mean?”

Being mindful of Aunt’s predilection for proper diction, I tried to choose my words precisely. “I … have some … padding.”

“Padding!”

“In my corset.”

She glanced toward my discarded corset. “You call that a corset? I’d be surprised if it even had a dozen bones in it. And it can’t even be tightened.” She gestured once more to the maid. “I have to see what I have to work with.”

The maid did as she was bid and soon I was left bared.

After having rubbed her dog on its ample belly, Aunt took up her lorgnette once more. “I see.” She sighed and shook her head. “A pity we cannot wait until next year. I would much rather show you in full bloom, but we must make do with what you have.” She tilted her head first this way and then that. “It would not be so bad if you were plumper. We could just tighten your corset and let the excess spill out on top. How small is your waist?”

“I do not—”

The maid came at me with a measure and wrapped it around my waist with chill fingers. “Twenty-two inches, ma’am.”

“Twenty-two. It could be better. And how large are your hips?”

The maid pushed the tape lower, beneath my drawers, and took my measure. “Twenty-five, ma’am.”

“Twenty-five inches? I can’t send you out into society with the shape of a young boy. And you’re tall enough to be one, aren’t you? I can’t think why I didn’t notice any of this before! We’ll just have to cinch you in and plump you up and hope that it can be accomplished in time. We’ve only eleven weeks until the season begins.” One of the dogs on the floor stood on its hind feet and reached a paw out to scrape at her hand. She took it onto her lap as she continued speaking.

“I”ll have the cook make a coddle of eggs for you at breakfast, provide a generous wedge of cheese at lunch, and a creamed soup in addition to dinner. Have no fear, you will be plump as a hen in no time.” She gave her dog a pat and then took up her paper.

After a moment I realized I was no longer wanted. I pulled my chemise over my head. Aunt’s maid hooked my corset atop my chemise and helped me with my gown.

The paper rattled as Aunt’s voice floated out over it. “Clara?”

“Yes.”

“I will have a corsetiere come tomorrow at two o’clock to fit you for a proper corset. By the time you debut, I expect you to have an eighteen-inch waist.”

“Eighteen inches!”

“Yes. The ideal waist is a hand’s span. Unless the De Vries heir is a Philistine, he will not be able to span your twenty-two-inch waist. We must give him what he expects if we hope to secure him without undue trouble.” Her eyes appeared over the top of the newspaper. “You may go.”

And I did. But I’m afraid the doorknob slipped from my hand as I shut the door behind me. It closed with a very satisfactory bang.

Once released from Aunt’s presence, I passed the rest of my time in the ladylike pursuits of gluing images into my scrapbook and working on the perforated cardboard needlework motto I was making for Lizzie for Christmas. The handiwork occupied me until lunch and then from lunch until dinner.

The next day the corsetiere and her assistant came at the appointed hour. I heard them at the door and crept to the stairs to watch as the doorman took their cloaks. Once again I was bid come to Aunt’s room. The assistant took my measurements in much the same way Aunt’s maid had the day before. The corsetiere looked on as she spoke to Aunt.

“We have corsets made of ribbon and corsets made of cloth. Satin, silk, and sateen. Cotton. Embellished with lace or ribbons or embroidery, in white or in colors as varied as ivory, pink, blue, or red—”

“Really!” Aunt seemed rather offended at all of the choices.

The corsetiere bowed. “With colored gores or without. Corsets with as little as two hundred bones and models with as many as six hundred.”

“To begin, we want one that can be secured only from the back.”

The woman coughed. “The latest models lace in the back
and
have clasps at the front. Lace once and remove as often as you would like.”

“We have much to accomplish and very little time in which to do it. There will be no possibility of cheating if the corsets are secured from the back.”

The woman frowned. “I guess that one could be made that way.”

“I guess you
will
make one that way if you wish to keep our business!”

The corsetiere smiled, though it was a bit thin about the lips. She turned toward me. “How about this one, miss?” She was holding up a model that frothed lace at the top and sprouted ribbons down the front. If I had to wear one, then that was the one I would choose.

“Yes, I—”

“No.” Aunt’s voice overrode my own. “We don’t need furbelows. We need a simple corset. Which no one will ever see. And if my niece is successful in her debut, if she can whittle her waist in time, then we shall call you to create the corsets for her trousseau.”

The corsets took a week to be made. They were delivered by the corsetiere herself, who had me try them on to ensure a proper fit.

“And how does it feel?”

“I don’t think that I can breathe.” Indeed, I hardly had breath enough left in my lungs to squeeze out those few words.

Aunt rose from her chair and came over to peer at the corset. “Your body will adjust soon enough. And when it does, you will have an enviable waist.” She nodded at the maid, who approached me with a corset cover.

After helping me into the corset cover, she assisted me back into my gown. It fit somewhat tighter between my shoulders, but rather looser down below.

The rest of the day was my own, and so I put the time to use on the motto I was embroidering for Lizzie. When it was finished, it would proclaim
Friendship Love and Truth
in all the colors of the rainbow. But unexpectedly, my back became sore and my neck fatigued. The corset had placed me in an unnatural position, and I could find no comfortable posture in which to sit. Moreover, whenever I moved, at least one of the corset’s six hundred bones poked into my sides. I counted the hours until I would be able to take it off and sleep.

But that night, after the maid had removed the corset cover, she handed me my nightgown.

“But you’ve forgotten to remove the corset.”

She curtsied. “You’re to wear it, miss.”

“I know. And I do. I will. But now it’s time for sleep.” Aunt had trouble finding maids that performed to her satisfaction. I was beginning to think this one’s time, too, was limited.

“You’re to wear it while you sleep, miss.”

“
While
I sleep? But if I wear it, I will
not
sleep!”

The maid bowed her head and curtsied again. “’Twas the missus’s orders.”

If I could have reached the laces, I would have untied them myself. I had tried, in fact, that very afternoon. But they were located at the back of the garment and tucked into the corset where I could not find them.

“Your nightgown, miss?”

I surrendered and bowed to her suggestion.

I tried. I truly tried to sleep.

I relaxed my limbs and back completely, letting the tension run out from my shoulders to my fingertips. But still I was held in my cage, my back rigid, my hips constrained. I turned to my side, but it was no better. I could pass a hand between my waist and the mattress without touching either.

I sighed and rolled and stared into the gloom for what seemed like an eternity. And then I got up. Or tried to. Since I couldn’t bend in the middle, I had to slide along the mattress, let my feet hang out over the edge, and wait for gravity to do its work.

Once standing, I gathered up all the cushions in the room and then used them to prop up my pillows. Eventually, I found the perfect manner of sleep. By using all of the cushions, I created a kind of seat for myself. And it was in that way that I finally, and with great relief, found sleep. While sitting up in bed.

4

TWO DAYS LATER, Aunt surprised me once again by wanting to go out. “You are to wear a walking costume.”