Elizabeth felt the last breath in her escape, suffocating from the intensity around her. Dying in corset measures was not on her list of things to do in life.
"Ms Anderson," she breathed, her voice barely audible, "too tight," she managed. She shrieked as the corset tightened even more around her waist.
Maybe Vaughn did hate Elizabeth and thought of getting rid of her in a more sophisticated way.
"Dear, you look wonderful! No man wants a waist over eight inches... you are at seven inches now, I believe we can make it to five," Vaughn encouraged, just as she had done before they reached to seven. The couturier too seemed reluctant on pulling the corset strings tighter but she did it nonetheless.
"Six!" Vaughn clapped happily. The couturier held onto the strings tightly, knowing one wrong move would destroy the whole thing. "How did that feel?"
"Like a six hundred pound elephant walked over my abdomen," Elizabeth smiled. "And I can not breathe."
"Just stay like that, you can master the art of not breathing," Vaughn smiled as she looked around the hanged gowns for a perfect dress.
"Will I have to hold my breath the whole evening tomorrow?" Elizabeth's face began turning red. "I think I'll breathe".
"No!" The couturier exclaimed, but it was too late, Elizabeth had taken a deep exhale and the corsets strings flew out of the woman's hands, springing across the room in all corners.
The rest remaining material of the corset fell to the ground, stringless.
Vaughn spun around. "Everything alright?"
"I think five inches was a bit too much, my lady," the woman suggested, annoyance visible in her tone.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Elizabeth cried, picking up as many strings as she could.
"Our store is strictly only for certain, people, I should have known this would happen," she muttered, grabbing her things from Elizabeth.
It was no secret that the couturier was not pleased with her presence, it clearly said 'no negros' at the front of the store. Yet there she was, ripping the corsets apart. Being in there left her uncomfortable and a sense of insecurity. If it were not for Vaughn, Elizabeth would have been stripped naked and beaten up in the streets for all to watch.
"Here! This one is perfect and it goes with your eyes," Vaughn came into sight with a bright pink gown. Elizabeth was up for protest until Vaughn stretched it out in front of her, revealing to her all its beauty that. She closed closed her lips together.
"My goodness," she breathed out speechlessly.
"I know," Vaughn smirked. "She will take this one."
"Alright," the couturier took the gown from her.
"She needs to try it on first," Vaughn reminded.
"Sorry but we need to close."
No, they did not need to close. They had thirty minutes until closing time and trying the dress on would only take ten, yet those same ten minutes would be vexatious for her. Vaughn was not too foolish to see that she was trying to get rid of them as fast as she could.
"I see. It is alright then, keep the dress."
"What?" She bellowed.
"A minute ago you were so excited about it," Elizabeth pointed out, wearing her old but more comfortable clothes.
"I changed my mind. You shall borrow a gown of mine back home instead," Vaughn frowned as she grabbed her purse and walked Elizabeth out with her, the cold air hitting them as they opened the door. Fortunately, it had not snowed heavily that day, which made traveling with the carriage easier.
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The Ember In The Storm (undergoing editing)
التاريخيةElizabeth Lamar, a young slaved woman of dreams to be a playwright is granted her brothers freedom given she agrees to marry her masters obnoxious, narcissistic and ill tempered son. However, he, as obnoxious as he is portrayed, has much less of a...
