Sherlock's Apprentice (The Crimson Glove)

1.1 - The Winchesters' Social

"Emma, I really think that is too much. You're suffocating me - my poor face is gasping for a breath of air. Is my natural complexion so repulsive to you that you must smother it so in powder?"

"Now, Miss Charlotte, that's nonsense. You could simply tell me to put a little less on without all this fuss about breathing."

The maid frowned as she reached around her mistress for a cloth. The dressing-table in front of the two girls was littered in pots and dishes of makeup - powder, rouge, creams and copious amounts of application tools and brushes. It was evident that they had been at work for several hours. The impatient young lady sat in a wooden chair facing the mirror, pulling the most frightful faces at her hassled maid in an attempt to amuse herself.

"Are we quite finished, then?" she asked hastily. "I'm simply dying of boredom."

"Oh, enough of your theatrics. You really mustn't talk like that, Miss Charlotte."

"You will take some off, though, won't you?"

"It's already been done, and if you would stop distorting your features so, you would look lovely. Now, don't move. I'm getting your dress."

Miss Charlotte, as the maid had addressed her, sighed and turned away from the mirror. She glanced around the room with quick, intelligent eyes, disregarding the other girl's request entirely as she stretched in her seat to look through a door behind her. The maid had disappeared into the closet some moments ago, and a lot of rustling was heard.

"Emma," she called suddenly, "you're not getting the one Mother sent last week?"

There was a pause.

"You want the crimson gown, I presume, Miss Charlotte?"

A smile lit the face of the young lady. "Of course. Emma, you are a perfect angel. Don't ever go, you know me too well."

"I'm afraid I mightn't be able to promise that when your mother sees your choice of attire." The maid, Emma, emerged from the closet with a waterfall of scarlet fabric draped over her arm. "She did send that green satin with the intention that you would wear it for the Christmas social tonight."

"Green looks dreadful on me. Mother ought to know that, if she wasn't always away. I think she would hardly recognize me if I met her in the street. What with boarding school and her constant social engagements, I dare say I haven't been in her presence for more than an hour at a time since the summer. Oh, careful with those strings. I do need to breathe, Emma, or I shall faint dead away when they call upon me to sing. And you know I'm not the sort to do that easily, not like Sara Macmillan. She's so frail, I hardly know why Lee ever looked twice at her. Really, if he looks a third time she might just collapse entirely. Ouch, Emma! That's too tight." The young lady stiffened, making an anguished expression in the mirror, then pausing to admire the tragic face for its effectiveness.

Emma glanced up at her mistress, then judging that no lasting harm had been done, returned to the arrangement of the deep red gown. "To my knowledge, Miss Charlotte, your brother has done a bit more than look at the Macmillan girl. She seemed to be none the worse for it, although a bit breathless."

"Why, Emma!" Her injury entirely forgotten, the young actress whirled to face her maid, upsetting the poor girl's handful of fabric. "I do believe that was a joke. You have been improving! Now if you could only resist addressing me as "Miss Charlotte," I might just keep you on. Come now, it's just Callie, like my brother calls me." She had grabbed the flustered Emma's shoulders in her excitement, staring expectantly at the girl. "Or even Charlotte, if you must. But please dispense with the formalities when it's just the two of us?"

"But your mother, miss, she says—"

She made a disgusted sound in her throat. "My mother is a perfect snob. And you certainly don't listen to all she tells you, Emma dearest, do you now?"

Emma's breath hitched in her throat. She paled slightly, unsure. "What do you mean?"

"You've been to the library again, and probably spent the entire morning there. It's lucky for you I did not have a need to call for you today at tea, or Mother might have noticed your absence." A wicked glint appeared in the young lady's eye. "And if I didn't know better, I might have thought you haunted the library because my brother was studying there."

"Oh, Miss Charlotte, you know I meant no harm! I had finished my duties and I only wanted to find that lovely book you were reading last week - I don't know how you could have known, you were out with Master Crawford this morning."

Her mistress softened at Emma's distress. "Nonsense, I heartily approve of your selection. As a matter of fact, I still have that book on my night-stand, and you would know it if you had been in my bedroom this morning. Besides, you have a book-knife in your apron pocket, but a surprising lack of cuts on your left hand despite your perfect clumsiness with knives. To me, that suggests you did not spend a proportional amount of time actually reading, no? Come, Emma, I won't tell. I'd rather have an intelligent maid than an empty-headed mute, no matter how well she dresses my hair."

The pleased expression had returned to Emma's eyes. She looked at her hands almost bashfully, before coyly replying, "You are fortunate as well as gracious, Miss Charlotte, for I can do both."

"Excellent! When you're not curtsying to Mother, you can be rather amusing. If Lee would only tear his eyes away from Sara for a moment, he would see plenty more charming maidens. Let us finish here, Emma. The longer we take, the more time I have to dread performing tonight."

The maid was absolutely blushing now, her face crimson to the roots of her honey-blonde hair. She brushed a curl out of her face, tucking it under her servants' cap and returning to the task at hand. "You will do wonderfully, I am sure. I've heard you sing naught but a perfect note, Miss Charlotte."

"Oh, I was speaking of Mother's social obligations. Say a kind word to so-and-so, curtsy to the ugly old minister of affairs, mingle with the guests, for Someday, Charlotte, you will be The Hostess and of course Society has Certain Expectations..." The young lady's voice had changed at the latter statement, repeating something that had evidently been told her many times. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, dropping the impression. "As long as Archie is there afterwards, I shall endure. Don't lose sight of me, Emma, I may need you tonight."

*****

And here is the first part! I actually wrote something! Yay!
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~ KaciaM ❤️