“But it’s just another ball. Why don’t I—”
“Tut-tut, child.” Her mother scurried across the room and framed Cath’s face in both hands. Though her mother was bony as a bird, there was no sense of delicacy as she pinched and squeezed Cath’s face. “You are in for such a delight this evening, my pretty girl.” Her eyes glimmered in a way that made Catherine suspicious, before she barked, “Now turn around!”
Catherine jumped and spun to face the window.
Her mother, who had become the Marchioness when she married, had that effect on everyone. She was often a warm, loving woman, and Cath’s father, the Marquis, doted on her incessantly, but Cath was all too familiar with her mood swings. All cooing and delighted one moment and screaming at the top of her lungs the next. Despite her tiny stature, she had a booming voice and a particular glare that could make even a lion’s heart shrivel beneath it.
Cath thought by now she would have been used to her mother’s temperament, but the frequent changes still took her by surprise.
“Mary Ann, tighten her corset.”
“But, my lady, I just—”
“Tighter, Mary Ann. This dress won’t fit without a twenty-two-inch waist, although just once I’d like to see you down to twenty. You have your father’s unfortunate bones, you know, and we must be vigilant if we’re to keep from having his figure too. Abigail, be a dear and bring me the ruby set from my jewelry cabinet.”
“The ruby set?” Catherine whined as Mary Ann undid the corset laces. “But those earrings are so heavy.”
“Don’t be such a jellyfish. It’s only for one night. Tighter!”
Catherine pinched her face together as Mary Ann tugged on the corset strings. She exhaled as much air as she could and gripped the side of the vanity, willing away the sparkles dancing before her eyes.
“Mother, I can’t breathe.”
“Well then, next time, I hope you’ll think twice before taking a second helping of dessert like you did last night. You can’t eat like a piglet and dress like a lady. It will be a miracle if this dress fits.”
“We could—wear—the white one?”
Her mother crossed her arms. “My daughter will be wearing red tonight like a true … never you mind that. You’ll just have to go without dinner.”
Cath groaned as Mary Ann cinched the corset one more time. Having to suffer through the bindings was bad enough, but going without dinner too? The food was what she looked forward to most during the King’s parties, and all she’d eaten that day was a single boiled egg—she’d been too caught up with her baking to think about eating more.
Her stomach growled in its confinement.
“Are you all right?” Mary Ann whispered.
She bobbed her head, not wanting to waste any precious air to speak.
“Dress!”
Before Catherine could catch her breath, she found herself being squashed and wrangled into the red velvet monstrosity. When the maids had finished and Catherine dared to peek into the mirror, she was relieved that, while she may have felt like an encased sausage, she didn’t look like one. The bold color brought out the red in her lips and made her fair skin appear fairer and her dark hair darker. When Abigail settled the enormous necklace onto her collarbone and replaced her pearls with dangling rubies, Catherine felt, momentarily, like a true lady of the court, all glamour and mystery.
“Marvelous!” The Marchioness clasped one of Catherine’s hands in both of hers, that peculiar, misty-eyed look returning. “I’m so proud of you.”
Catherine frowned. “You are?”
“Oh, don’t start fishing now.” Her mother clucked her tongue, patting the back of Cath’s hand once before dropping it.
Catherine eyed her reflection again. The mystique was quickly fading, leaving her feeling exposed. She would have preferred a nice, roomy day dress, covered in flour or not. “Mama, I’ll be overdressed. No one else will be so done up.”
Her mother sniffed. “Precisely. You look exceptional!” She wiped away a tear. “I could scatter to pieces.”
Despite all her discomfort, all her reservations, Cath couldn’t deny a hot spark behind her sternum. Her mother’s voice was a constant nag in her head, telling her to put down the fork, to stand up straight, to smile, but not that much! She knew her mother wanted the best for her, but it was oh so lovely to hear compliments for once.
With one last dreamy sigh, the Marchioness mentioned checking on Cath’s father before she fluttered out of the room, dragging Abigail along with her. As the door to her chambers closed, Cath yearned to fall onto her bed with the exhaustion that came from being in her mother’s presence, but she was sure she would rip an important seam if she did.
“Do I look as ridiculous as I feel?”
Mary Ann shook her head. “You look ravishing.”
“Is it absurd to look ravishing at this silly ball? Everyone will think I’m being presumptuous.”