Page 12 of A Dress for the Wicked
“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT, EMMALINE?”Kitty asked, noticing I was lagging as I followed her up the stairs. Our rooms were located on one of the highest floors, far above the sewing rooms and fitting areas. I wasn’t sure I’d recall which one was mine, so I’d asked Kitty to help me. I was worried she might not want to be seen with me, but she had agreed.
No, I’m not all right.“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Don’t worry too much,” Kitty said. She paused on a stair. “Sophie is a strange one. She’s a Sterling, after all.”
“A Sterling?”
“Yes. You know, the Sterling family.”
For a second, I wavered between pretending to know who this family was—from Kitty’s breezy tone, it seemed like I should—and just admitting my ignorance.
The delay was enough to tip Kitty off. “They are, or were, I should say, a well-known family. Sophie’s parents died a few years ago, and it caused quite a stir. They weren’t titled, but they were wealthy. Her parents were always getting attention for doing things like dancing in the city fountain at midnightor showing up together at the Gentlemen’s Club. But try not to worry about Sophie. Such things will distract us from our work if we let them.”
I nodded. Everything was happening so fast: the rude maid, Sophie’s cutting comment, Madame Jolène’s icy response. I arched my neck, trying to ease the throbbing at its base, and my eyes settled on the gilt-framed painting of Princess Amelia in her dazzling midnight gown, the one she’d worn to the queen’s Diamond Jubilee. Without Francesco rushing me along, I could stare at it for as long as I wanted. Kitty stopped next to me.
She grinned. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
Even more than the gown, I loved the story behind it. I was ten when Avon-upon-Kynt celebrated the queen’s Diamond Jubilee. Everyone said Princess Amelia wouldn’t attend the festivities. Rumors had percolated for months that her husband, Prince Willis, had taken up with the nubile Duchess Cynthia Sandringham. And just two months before the jubilee, he had gone on a weeklong trip with the duchess in Italy, while Princess Amelia stayed with their children, Prince Andrew and Princess Astrid, back at the main palace.
According to the society pages, Princess Amelia had shown up, resplendent and with her head held high, wearing a sheath gown of raw silk dyed a rich blue. Now all the details were right in front of me. I hadn’t known the fabric was a mixture of blues, both bright and dark. The gown had long sleeves and a high neck. In fact, it might have been considered prudish if it wasn’t so tight that one could see the outline of Princess Amelia’sentire body. Starting mid-thigh, crystals sparkled and glinted over the skirt, pooling around the hemline like shimmering raindrops. Layers of black and gray tulle fell from the back of the waist, creating the impression of a ball gown from behind.
“I was eleven when it happened, but I remember it all like it was yesterday,” Kitty said. “It was quite past my bedtime, but my parents let me stay, and I was the only girl my age there.” She smiled proudly. “Prince Willis and the duchess arrived before Princess Amelia did. Did the society pages mention that the duchess was formally introduced? It was awfully vulgar.” Kitty shook her head. “The duchess was wearing a horrid gray silk A-line gown—andpearls, of all things. As if she were fifty! ‘Dumpy’ was the only word to describe her.” A wry smile tugged at the corner of Kitty’s mouth. “My mother told me Madame Jolène had canceled the duchess’s appointment at the Fashion House because Madame Jolène is a personal friend of the princess’s. The duchess has been blacklisted from the Fashion House ever since.”
“So it’s true.”
I’d read about the blacklisted duchess in the society pages, but since I was so far away from the city, it was easy to forget the people in Avon-upon-Kynt existed beyond the confines of the articles. According to the papers, the prince and duchess had separated shortly after the jubilee, and the duchess had never been featured in any fashion spreads since.
“When Princess Amelia was announced, I’d never seen anything like it,” Kitty continued. “There was so much noise—you know, people jostling, vendors yelling, that type of thing—andit stopped. The moment Princess Amelia stepped out onto the steps of the Parliament building, you could hear a pin drop. No one could look away. The gown was unlike anything I had ever seen, even here, where everyone lives for fashion. There was something about it... I don’t know... it was glittering, glowing, even... it was like seeing something divine.”
Kitty trailed off, and we both stood facing the painting, lingering, held by the blue gown’s spell. For the first time, it made sense to me. The gown was exquisite, but more important, it told a story. It allowed a scorned princess to show her prince she didn’t need him anymore.
“Come,” Kitty said. “It’s getting late, and we need our rest for tomorrow.”
I followed her the rest of the way up the stairs, but the blue gown’s image floated in front of me, filmy and ghostlike. Blue. It reminded me of something... but what?
The reporter’s eyes.
They were as blue as Princess Amelia’s gown. I shook my head vigorously, enough to make Kitty glance curiously at me.
No matter. There wasn’t time for men. I needed to work hard and make sure that at the end of the season I was offered the apprenticeship. And then one day I could dress someone like Princess Amelia and tell her story, one stitch at a time.
I said goodnight to Kitty and opened the door to my chamber. Everything gleamed just as before. Now, though, night had fallen, casting the room in a golden light. The chandelier sparkled, and the room, warmed by its glow, seemed less clean and frigid.It’s like living inside a jewelry box, I thought.
I wasn’t alone. There was a girl sitting at one of the vanities. Her evening robe had fallen off her shoulders and it hung from the crooks of her elbows, revealing snowy skin and a black nightdress. With her long fingers, she pulled pins from her hair, sending cascades of dark waves down her back. She turned slightly so her reflection appeared in the vanity mirror.
Sophie.
Every single one of the emotions from the lobby came rushing back, as though I was standing there again, and she was pointing at me, making all those eyes fix on me. For the second time since I’d arrived, scorching heat rushed to my face, turning my cheeks pink.
Sophie’s eyes flicked up to mine in the mirror. Then, just as quickly, she returned her gaze to the vanity’s marble top.
“Sophie,” I breathed. “I didn’t know we’d be sharing chambers.”
“It appears as such.”
After her bold comments at orientation, I expected her to say something disdainful. This emotionless response was unnerving, much more so than a sarcastic comment or insult would have been.
