****
''Isabella, perfect timing,'' Harriet said as she saw her friend walking down the corridor. ''A week to go. We need to get you some clothes. On your day off, we will go to town and buy you the most splendid gown and shoes. Not to forget a masque.''
''Harriet, I will go to the ball as you requested, but not to woo the Duke into something he clearly doesn't want. Do you understand me?'
''The Duke doesn't know what he wants. Until we show him what a beautiful woman you are, how can he know?''
Isabella was tired of Harriet's scheming, but she had decided to go along with it, that the whole business may be over with. She would go to the ball and the Duke would chose his bride. It would not be her. Harriet would give up her silly idea and then she could get on with her duties once again. She only hoped her prayers would be answered and that her feelings towards the Duke would change from ones of searing love and desire to the kind of love one has for a brother.
''Alright, we will go to town on Saturday,'' Isabella sighed. Harriet gave a little jump as her scheme took another step forward.
****
Truro was a bustling town of some ten thousand inhabitants. Only a short distance away from Sleningford Castle, it was the most convenient place for Harriet and Isabella to go shopping. The town was home to many tin mine owners who had built themselves impressive homes along the main streets. The main shopping street was a lady's delight. From millinery to haberdashery, it had it all. Harriet had one particular shop in mind, as she walked arm in arm with Isabella down the busy street. 'Longdons, Dresses for Fine Ladies.' It was a shop for wealthy women who wanted to buy something unique for a special occasion.
When Harriet opened the door, Isabella heard a quaint bell ring. She walked into the most enchanting shop she had ever been in. On each side wall, there were racks of gowns. Not one the same. There were two arm chairs in the middle of the room and a French style desk which Isabella presumed was the sales counter. When she looked more closely at the dresses, she noticed every color she had ever known and some she hadn't.
''Miss Harriet, welcome back. It's so lovely to see you. We have had so many ladies here over the past few days, all invitees to the ball.''
''Thank you Mrs. Richardson. I do hope you haven't sold all the best gowns. This is my good friend, Isabella. I want nothing but the best for her. As you can see, she dresses in rather a frumpish manner. I want you to make her the desire of all men. I want a gown of fantastic beauty, but also of the utmost allure. I want it to turn heads. This young lady has the finest figure in all Cornwall, please help her to show it.''
Isabella turned a bright shade of pink at the thought of having all the men at the ball devour her figure with their eyes. Mrs. Richardson seemed like a kind lady. Isabella decided she would have a quiet word with her when they were in the fitting room.
''Well, it's lovely to meet you Miss Isabella. Let's have a look at you.'' Mrs. Richardson stood back and cast her expert eye over Isabella. ''Indeed you are right, Miss Harriet, she does have the most charming figure. Although it is barely visible under these baggy clothes, I do have an eye for these things, and she is perfect for what I have in mind.''
Isabella wished to scream but she remained calm and awaited her fate with grace. Mrs. Richardson was a woman in her late fifties. Of small stature, she looked as though she enjoyed cakes a little too much. Her long gray hair fell around her face quite charmingly. It gave her a motherly look and Isabella was sure she could trust her to select a charming dress for her.
Mrs. Richardson walked to a rack of gowns and pulled one out. It was deep red. When Isabella saw it, her trust in Mrs. Richardson began to wane. ''Let's try this one. You told me you wanted allure Miss Harriet. How about we go one step further. Passion. Deep red is a passionate color, it works wonders on a man's senses. She'll have them falling at her feet in this. Follow me, Miss Isabella.''
Isabella pulled an awkward face and reluctantly followed Mrs. Richardson into a fitting room. Once inside, Isabella was dismayed to see the walls covered in full length mirrors. Her sorrow was compounded by what seemed like a thousand candles lighting the room so fully, there was no shadow for her to hide in.
''Alright, Miss, please take off your clothes, all of them.''
''But I can't, I mean....... I don't want to.....I'm so.''