ENTITLED, anthony bridgerton

one

ONE 
of gowns and greens

"OH MAMA, IS IT TRUE WHAT PAPA SAID? Am I to attend my first season and seek out a suitor?" Arabella gleamed loudly staring at her mother with complete shock and excitement.

"Arabella, young ladies do not seek a suitor they simply present themselves and the suitors seek them," Geneva Lerversay argued with a stern face.

Arabella was excited and beyond relieved to know that she was able to have the chance to live life as widely and loudly as the other young women her age. Due to that very reason the Leversay household was buzzing, as maids were preparing the halls and rooms for the suitors that would soon follow after she had presented herself to the ton. 

Geneva stood in the hall, staring at the rushing maids cleaning their house, there hadn't been this many people inside the Leversay household in years. The sound of footsteps made Geneva grow weary as she turned her heel and walked toward her room.

Arabella sighed as she saw her  mother retreat to her quarters, she hoped that whatever she was thinking would not affect their venture to the modiste. Geneva had promised Arabella countless times that she felt fit to leave the household, each promise however ended in cruel words thrown by Arabella and Geneva and neither of them departing the front gates of their residence.

Arabella was nervous to set foot into the ballroom, making her debut felt like a fever dream. It felt so unreal but she could feel the pit in her stomach that helped her distinguish that this was indeed reality. Arabella powdered her face and secured her black hair into clips as she walked toward her mother's bedroom, where she had no doubt in finding her mother standing by the window with a glass of wine in her hand.  

"Mother, are you ready?" Arabella began, staring at Geneva with hopeful eyes, "We must leave now if we shall return home before dark."

"Not today," Geneva grumbled as she took another sip of wine. 

"But mother, you promised.".

"Arabella, I know what I have promised but I insist that my answer has changed.".

"However, I insist that we go, my debut is in two days. I'm late enough as it is!" Arabella exclaimed, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground, a quality she had learnt from her father.

Geneva downed the rest of her drink as she made her way toward her daughter. With the use of her hand, she gripped Arabella's jaw roughly. "Don't test me," she spoke with such venom, Arabella felt a piece of her confidence deteriorate, "And for heaven sake, don't tap your foot."

Arabella clasped her eyes tight, not opening them until she felt her mother move back to her spot by the window. She sighed as she bought a hand to her face where she felt a tinge of pain as she moved her jaw, no doubt a red mark had stained her chestnut cheeks.

"What if I were to attend the modiste by myself, I shall be safe, Mama. I will return before dark. Dahlia and James shall accompany me," Arabella began.

Her mother thought about this for a couple of seconds before agreeing with Arabella's plan. "As long as you do not spend a deplorable amount of money, I suppose it can't hurt. Oh and Arabella, be sure to steer away from colours that might wash you out,".

Arabella gleamed with joy as she pranced toward the front door, taking her coat and boots. She stepped outside to be greeted by James, who was the carriage master for the family. She greeted the middle-aged, blond man as she took her place inside the carriage. Dhalia, a young, red headed woman, joined Arabella in the carriage soon after to escort her into town. 

After a short and smooth journey, Arabella stepped out of the carriage and walked toward the entrance of the beautifully decorated store. Inside, she stood astounded to the layers and patterns of fabric in front of her. Geneva never dressed Arabella in anything beside a simple beige, as she falsely claimed that a girl like Arabella was nowhere near as desirable enough to warrant the need for an extensive collection of gowns.

"Madame Delacroix," Arabella spoke in a soft voice, as she looked at the beautifully tanned woman hunched over a pile of fabric. 

"Oh, my, Arabella. Ma Cheri," Madame Delacroix spoke with happiness in her voice. "You have grown so much since I last saw you," She looked Arabella up and down, it had been several years since the dressmaker had seen the girl. After greetings were exchanged, Arabella stood on the small podium as her measurements were taken.

"Apologies dearly for such an inconvenience, I understand if you would not have time-," Arabella began to ramble, but her worries were squashed as Madame Delacroix insisted that it was not problem.

Arabella chose a hand crafted white silk gown, with stiches of green vines and flowers filtered the bottom near the hem, and dissipated toward the bust.

The dress was truly beautiful.

"I had it crafted yesterday, it was a creation of my own inspiration" Madame Delacroix began. 

Arabella soon stopped her as she smiled sweetly, "Madame Delacroix, that is... I must say the most beautiful gown I have ever laid my eyes on."

"It truly is, is it not? You must try it on," She stated, a smile playing on her glossed lips. 

Arabella twirled in front of the mirror, a surge of confidence washed over her because for the first time in a long time she felt desirable, with a satisfied smile she descided to purchase it, she stood timidly while the modiste wrap her gowns. She wondered whether her mother would agree with her choices.