Chapter 19: Suffering For Fashion

"Tighter, I think." Jacques the dressmaker gestured at my already constricted waistline and ribcage with his pince-nez. The polished glass lenses caught the light and made my head hurt. The girl behind me, a rather beefy child with more freckles than was good for her, winked at me and yanked on the ribbons.

I groaned, swaying from the pressure while Georgina and Kate giggled and applauded.

Traitors, both of them.

Jacques sniffed as though the very air offended him. "Now, the overbodice."

Two more girls hurried forward as I struggled for breath and the willpower not to shove the arrogant man's half-glasses somewhere he'd never retrieve them. The material shimmered gold and palest ivory. Not that I had the wherewithal to approve of it. Drawing in air to keep me upright became my only focus.

I was certain a rib slid out of place, now firmly jabbing me in the stomach. There was a trick to breathing in such an apparatus, I was certain, but I had as yet to learn it. Instead I panted in short bursts of air and swore no matter what happened I would not be wearing this gown. Ever.

Even if I had to burn Jacques's dress shop to the ground.

Another layer of fabric, and another set of ribbons. I barely felt them. My torso was sheathed in a veritable cage of boning already, what was one more tug of the bodice noose? Hands fell to, busy around me, spinning me this way and that as the heavy skirt was attached, sewn in place right there, on my body. That was when I knew the horrid truth. I was doomed to live the rest of my life this way. Forever.

They'd sewn me into the thing, hadn't they? What torture.

Georgina surged to her feet, round face flushed with excitement.

"Auburdeen," she said, stressing the first part of my name and stretching out the 'deen' until it went on, annoyingly, into infinity. "You look absolutely gorgeous."

If I thought I could move without passing out, I would have slapped her.

She obviously missed my unhappiness or mistook the scowl on my face for something else. "Stunning. Truly stunning. Jacques, she is a masterpiece."

He simpered, his lips sort of smiling under the thin mustache that lived like a hideous black rodent across his upper lip. I would have liked to slap him, too.

Until my eyes found Kate. She looked at me with such wistful jealousy, I felt instantly terrible. "I'm sure Kate will be equally as lovely in hers," I said, now understanding the breathy sound of some women's voices. No wonder they sounded so sultry. It was impossible to draw enough air to gain volume.

Georgina barely noticed I'd spoken as she and Jacques continued to congratulate each other. I was spun one last time to face the large mirror.

Shudder. I looked like a gold embossed lamppost. Or a chandelier. I adored gold, but not as a fabric choice. The dress was atrocious.

So why then did they act as though it weren't? I rolled my eyes at Kate who smiled, somewhat bravely. Surely she saw it? How garish this monstrosity was?

Perhaps the fact I couldn't breathe properly affected my bias, but I hated the dress with an unholy passion I could barely contain.

Georgina chose that exact moment to smile up at me, hands clasped in joy under her chin.

"Oh my dear," she gushed, "don't you just love it?"

I've never been known to hold my tongue, but understanding how dear this woman was to my mother actually reined in my temper. Mostly. At least, enough I refrained from telling her everything.

"It's a little extravagant, isn't it?" I sparkled. And glowed. How vile.

"Not at all." She patted my hand. "You're worth it, dear. With that skin tone? And your hair color? It's absolutely perfect."

I would have sighed if I wasn't certain to trigger a fainting spell. Defeated in the face of her need to please and her own utter joy, I sagged.

"Thank you," I said in the dullest tone I'd ever heard from my own lips. "It's lovely."

I hated myself.

We were interrupted by a soft knock on the outer door. Hugh entered, looking uncomfortable, but determined. He kept his promise, watching my every move, even accompanying us here to the dressmaker's, though he had been forced to wait outside.

All of my anger focused on him as he held out a note to his mother.

"This was just delivered," he said. His eyes drifted up, met mine. I'm certain my fury would have killed him on the spot if he hadn't jerked his gaze away immediately. I watched the slow flush of embarrassment creep up his neck, mottling his skin, and felt a little better.

"Why, it's from dear Samuel." Georgina looked up with a surprised smile. "How delightful. He's invited the family to join him this evening. At the theater."

Kate leapt to her feet and rushed to her mother, helping herself to the note. She read it with a huge smile before clutching it to her and spinning in a happy circle. "The theater!"

"My dear brother has his own box," Georgina explained to me. "Though we've rarely attended."

"Oh Mother, can we go, please, can we?" I had never seen Kate so excited, not even the night previous when the magician performed.

"Of course, my dear." Georgina gestured to me. "Jacques, the dress is divine. Please complete the last of the preparations and have it delivered to me."

He bowed to her. "At once, countess," he said. As she turned away, he scowled at me and pointed his index finger. "Stop breathing so deeply," he hissed. "You're stretching out the seams."

My magic was ready. Had I been alone and thought I could get away with it, I know I would have throttled him.

Air never felt so good and the rib I was certain had dislocated was, as it turned out, only squashed. Still, I embraced my freedom with great relief, making sure I was the last out the door so Jacques would see me stick my tongue out at him.

Childish, yes. But considering I'd been contemplating his death only moments before, I thought it was fitting.

"Do we know what play is being performed?" It seemed a logical question. The hansom rolled its way down the cobbles as Kate grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

"Oh yes," she said, eyes alight. "I've memorized the schedule." She hugged herself then, gaze lost out the window. "We'll be seeing Romeo and Juliet."

My education in the arts was lacking. "I'm sure it will be lovely."

"Lovely?" She spun on me, eyes and mouth wide. "It is one of the finest plays ever created." She bounced a little in her excitement. "It will be stupendous!"

I found it hard to muster such excitement for a group of strangers pretending to be people they weren't for entertainment. Certainly, the arts had their place. But I was more of a take action and participate type, and less a sit back and watcher.

Kate, it seemed, was my opposite. Not exactly a shocking revelation, but I despaired at finding anything we had in common aside from our magic. And since she didn't seem keen on that either, I was running out of options.

So much for our mother's wishes.

The moment we arrived at the house, Kate rushed off to her room. I followed along behind more slowly, feeling Hugh hovering behind me. I ignored him and closed my door. Suddenly, the dress I had on felt too much, too heavy and confining. I rifled through my trunk and found my riding trews and a heavy sweater I'd taken from Damon. As improper as my attire might be, I was at least comfortable.

The heavy wool settled around my shoulders just as I heard a soft creak near my door. My eyes settled on my mirror, catching a dull brown pair of eyes watching me through a crack of the door. Temper flaring, I rushed to confront my watcher only to catch sight of Hugh vanishing at a solid run around the corner toward the stairs.

I sprinted after him instantly, yelling his name, fury rising as I pounded my way down the stairs and beneath them, down the hallway past the kitchen. The slamming of a door was the only hint I had to where he'd fled. I followed the sound, past the aroma of fresh bread coming from the kitchen and the aghast expression of Clara as I brushed past her.

Every door was opened but one, the last at the end of the hall. The lock was quite secure and, to my fury, my magic was as yet hobbled. I had to do something about that.

I knew he was inside, could hear panting and practically felt his nervousness.

"Hugh," I hissed through the door. "I attempted to apologize for last evening. I had no intention of hurting you. You caught me by surprise with your suggestion. As you did with your peeping. Let me tell you now, Hugh. This time I do intend to hurt you. Now come out here and take your beating like a man."

Silence. Coward.

"If I catch you again," I snarled, "or even feel you near me, I will take you apart. And don't think Mummy and Daddy will be able to protect you." I pounded one fist against the door as hard as I could before backing away.

I'd never been so furious in my entire life.

I spun on my heel and marched back to the foyer, almost stepping on Sassafras as I mounted the first step.

"Problem?" He swiped one paw over his ear, eyes half-lidded.

"No problem." I discovered it was possible to speak through teeth clamped so tight my jaw ached. I started to stomp past him when he spoke.

"You have business to attend to, do you not?" I glared down at him as his eyes closed slowly, once, opening again to fix me with his cat coldness.

"Do I?" Foul humor shortened my tongue.

"You were about to go see Georgina," he said. "And tell her about your little adventure."

Was he serious? Now? "I hadn't promised."

He didn't speak, just glared back. And since I knew from experience he would torture me and make my life even more miserable than it was at this very moment if I didn't do as he liked, I forced a nasty smile and curtsied.

"As you wish, my lord."

He snorted. "You look ridiculous," he said. "Perhaps you should change first."

I did, but under duress. And he followed me, the arrogant sot, all the way to Georgina's door.

Clara answered it immediately. "Miss Burdie?"

"May I speak to Georgina?" Sass sat on my right foot, digging his claws in at my tone. "Please?"

Clara backed away, opening the door wider, but she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Miss Burdie," she said. "But her ladyship has gone out."

I smirked down at Sassafras who spun and stalked off, tail high. Served him right.

I instead spent the remainder of the afternoon in my room, alternately sulking and planning Hugh's beating to the last blow. So wrapped up was I in my plans I was almost late, having to rely on Clara to stuff me into my second dress, the pale green one with the low neckline, only allowing for a basic upsweep and the most subtle of make up applications.

"Well, it will have to do," she fussed while I smiled, finally liking what I saw.

"Thank you, Clara," I took her hand and squeezed it so she knew I was being sincere. "You did a wonderful job."

She flushed and bobbed a curtsy before running out.

I'd since rummaged through the remainder of the items Mum sent with me, so this time I was prepared for the chain of emeralds encased in coiled gold settings that sat on my collarbones. Instead of the nasty shoes supplied, I slid into my more comfortable and plain ones, knowing no one would see them under the long skirt anyway. A thin white lace shawl completed the look to my satisfaction.

Could it be I was growing accustomed to acting the part of a lady?

That idea was clearly ludicrous. After all, despite the way I was dressed, the moment I caught sight of Hugh disappearing out the front door my homicidal intentions returned, fists balling in preparation for his doom.

Tonight, unlike the previous, we had ample room in our more modern hansom for all five of us, even with sufficient knee room for once. Hugh sat across from me, hands in his lap, fingers twisting around and around, face so pale I could have read a book by it. No one seemed to notice the discomfort in our little part of the carriage, me with my intent in my eyes and Hugh with his fear and regret making him sweat. Kate was excited enough she drew attention from us.

Just as well. I wanted a chance to deal with Hugh without interference from his parents.

It seemed like no time had passed when the hansom came to a halt and the doors swung open for us. Hugh and I were the last to exit. I rushed to leave next, wanting the advantage over him. I alighted on the ground and stood ready eager for him to descend into my waiting anger.

Before I could deliver another scathing threat, Hugh's eyes lifted and met mine, his own rage a simmering thing startling me with its heat. I had thought him far weaker. Now I knew I'd underestimated him.

"You'll get yours," he hissed. "Uncle will see to that." He stumbled off without explanation, leaving me to scowl after him. Yes, I had broken his poor little heart. So sad. Yes, I threatened to beat him within an inch of his life. But the hate I saw in his eyes was irrational. And the threat even odder. What was I going to get? And what did Samuel have to do with it?

Confused and now on guard to add to my temper, I followed the Brindles inside.

***