Bring Forth a Fire (Book 1)

Fifteen - Judgement of Paris

Sophie neither saw my bruised tailbone, nor did I care to mention it to her. She seemed concerned all the same, noticing when I winced as she tightened my corset. I parried her questions with the excuse that she was lacing it a bit tight, and could she perhaps loosen it enough for me to breathe.

"Don't like the things myself, Miss," she said, mercifully obliging and loosening the laces. "But in a man's world..."

"We must endure, as women," I finished. "Yes, I know."

"About time to get you into your dress now, Miss, if you'd be willing."

"Of course. Yes. I'm sorry. Please excuse me." I pulled my mind back into the present, away from the Scottish moors, and accommodated Sophie as best as I could as she wrestled with the dress that had been laid out and brushed down for me. The whole affair was quite a struggle, but eventually we managed to accomplish it.

"You look lovely, Miss. Just divine."

I turned my head and glanced in the mirror. It was a lovely dress – soft pink, with elbow-length sleeves and a modest neckline that put no lecherous ideas into the men's heads. It swept completely to the floor in layers, making it seem much like I had been dressed in a mound of frosting. All the same, it looked just as delectable.

"Thank you, Sophie." I turned all the way around, looking at it from different angles. I had never worn anything like this before, and even though I usually gave little thought to my clothes, I had to admit Grandmother knew me all too well. The colour, the style, even the minimal adornment down the front seemed to suit me perfectly.

"Let's have your hair done now, Miss, shall we?"

"Of course. Yes. Let's." I ran my hands over the bodice of the dress and sat down at the vanity, catching my own eye in the mirror. I certainly didn't appear exhausted, although that was what I felt, in every bone in my body and in the numbness of my mind. Fleetingly, I hoped Grandmother hadn't asked a serious suitor round tonight, because I would be fairly useless in this state.

"Miss, the Dowager also sent this up." Sophie indicated a flat, square box on my vanity. "Said you'd look fine in it."

I took it as she began to run the brush through my hair, and what I saw inside, on a red silk cushion, stole my breath. It was a rose-gold necklace, plain except for four red beads hanging from it, in the shape of teardrops. They caught the light and reflected it back in brilliant red.

"It's beautiful," I said. "Where did she say she found it?"

"In a chest of your father's things, Miss. Reckoned it was something he meant to give your mum, only never got the chance."

I said nothing in reply. It made me feel I had violated my mother somehow, able to wear this when she never would. And yet my father's intent stopped me. Possibly, she would have bequeathed it to me eventually anyway. Both Grandmother and my father told me I resembled her down to the shape of her eyes, but perhaps if things had happened differently, she would be putting it on instead of me.

I was finally dressed at the top of the hour. I thanked Sophie, because in my opinion, the staff did not receive enough praise for everything they did. Then I proceeded downstairs, where Grandmother and Lowell were already welcoming the guests inside. Tonight we were joined by two men, the younger a nearly perfect copy of the elder. 

"Emma, darling." My grandmother smiled up at me, surprisingly warmly. "There you are. I would like to introduce you to William Kingsley, the Earl Radford, and his son, the Viscount Finham. Although he insists we call him Mr Kingsley."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr Kingsley," I said as the young man took my hand, gently kissing the back of it. As he did I caught his gaze, a shifting grey like Cath's and James's. "I gather you do not much like the title of 'Milord'?"