Serial Fun - Installment 8

 

I am about to head up to the sewing room to cut out Muslin two for the MOG dress; hopefully I'll have some real fitting progress to report tomorrow.  Meantime, adding to the bit of nonsense that I've been posting.  If you've missed the earlier posts, click HERE to read from the bottom up, lol

Part Three -- The Dance

    Friday morning finally came -- clear and warm.  The palace buzzed all day with caterers preparing various delicacies, florists arranging fragrant bouquets for every available spot, palace servants hanging gossamer draperies around the ballroom and refreshment hall and seamstresses making last minute adjustments to gowns.  Rita’s blue silk moire, finished the day before, hung in her wardrobe ready for her to don at dinner time; the rose brocade was now carefully covered by the muslin dust cover that also covered the gloves and the crinoline and a few other odd items she thought might be useful.  Rita held her breath every time Esmerelda opened the wardrobe, but so far Es had not said anything about the dress.  Rita assumed that Esmerelda had seen that the dress was still in the wardrobe and was being too polite to say ‘I told you so.’   Rita could hardly wait to see Isabella in it.  Her biggest concern now was to get out to the carriage house with the dress and things for Isabella without being stopped or questioned.  She hoped that, since Esmerelda would be attending to the guests in the ladies’ lounge all evening, she would be free to sneak out after she had supposedly retired to her room to watch the festivities from her window.  

    Despite all the activity around her, the day seemed to crawl by.  She spent the afternoon being ministered to by Esmerelda...being bathed and manicured and curled so that she was as fine as any of the young ladies at the banquet.  Rita rather subconsciously knew the blue silk moire was quite becoming to her, and when Gregory observed that his little sister was looking very grown-up she was pleased and flattered, but her own participation in the banquet did little to distract her from her plans for the rest of the evening.  What everyone else assumed would be the high point of the night for Rita was actually just the prelude that, if the truth were known, she was rather impatient to be done with.  As soon as her parents and her brother bid her good night and went to receive the guests, Rita retired to her room.  Esmerelda accompanied her and stayed long enough to get Rita out of her fine dress and into her dressing gown, then also departed to tend guests.  Rita was finally alone.  

    She waited a few moments, to make sure Es wouldn’t return, then changed into a day dress, put on her dark cloak, picked up the invitation and the things in the dust cover and very carefully crept down the back stairs of the palace.  There were two palace guards at the rear door; she wasn’t expecting that.  She hadn't taken into account that there was higher security due to all the guests; the rear grounds were private. She stood in the rear entry trying to come up with a plan when one of the large carriages came to the rear of the palace; apparently the driver had dropped off his passengers and was attempting to turn around and got in the wrong drive.  The guards stepped away to help get the situation righted and Rita took a deep breath and scooted out of the door whilst the guards were engaged, hugging the shadows under the shrubbery along the walk as she slipped out to the carriage house.

            Jerry and Martin were waiting as promised, grandly dressed in the unmarked livery and extremely nervous.  She thanked them again for their help before giving them a few final instructions.  “One more thing,” she added, “My friend doesn’t know who I am...and that’s the way I want it for now.  Don’t give it away.  Call me “Miss Rita” for tonight, please...one “Your Highness” and everything will be ruined.”  She looked at them hopefully.

            “Yes, y--Miss Rita.”  Jerry acknowledged.  Martin, who rarely said anything at all, nodded.

            Rita took a deep breath.  “All right, then, let’s go.”  Martin helped her into the carriage, and Jerry eased the horses out the back drive to the rear entrance to the royal estate.  Rita had instructed Jerry to drive past their destination and stop around a curve, out of sight of the manor house.  When they went past it, she craned her neck and just glimpsed a carriage waiting by the door.  --So, she thought, --Isabella’s stepmother and stepsisters have not left yet.  Jerry guided the horses around the curve and turned the carriage around in an open field, then parked back on the road just out of sight of the manor house drive.  He then slipped down from the driver’s seat and walked around the curve a bit.  He returned in about ten minutes.

            “The carriage is gone, uh...Miss.”  Jerry reported.

            “Did you watch it until it was out of sight?”  Rita wanted to make absolutely sure they wouldn’t be seen by the rest of Isabella’s family.

            “Aye, Miss.  They’re gone.”

            Rita smiled in anticipation.  “Good.  Let’s go, then!”  Jerry climbed back up into the driver’s seat, and in a few moments, they pulled up at the front door of the manor house.

            Rita, so excited she could hardly stand it, climbed out of the carriage before Martin could even get around to hand her down.  With Isabella’s invitation in her hand, she ran up the walk to the front door and pulled hard on the bell pull and waited...and waited...and waited.  She began to wonder if perhaps the bell hadn’t worked, or if Isabella was hurt or ill and considered wandering about the house rapping on windows.  She backed away from the door a bit, turning to look and see if there were any lights visible from the inside when the door opened.  Isabella could not see Rita fully and said quite stiffly “Yes?”

            Rita turned back excitedly. “Isabella...,” she began, but Isabella cut her off as the color drained from her face and an expression of shock took its place.

            “Rita!  What on earth are you doing here?”  Closer now, Rita could see that Isabella’s eyes were red and puffy; she’d been weeping.  Well, Rita could do something about that.  She held out the invitation.  “I brought you something.”

            Slowly, clearly puzzled, Isabella took the envelope from Rita.  She looked at her name on the front and the royal seal on the back, then back at Rita, who was smiling broadly and having a difficult time standing still.  “Is this....” her voice trailed off as she opened the envelope.  While Isabella read the invitation, Rita slipped back to the carriage and pulled the dust cover off the dress.  She grabbed the dress and the satin mask and ducked back into the house to find Isabella sitting on a small bench in the foyer, stunned.  “This looks like a real invitation.” Isabella commented with more than just a trace of wonder.

            Rita was surprised.  “It is a real invitation.  You’re invited to the ball.”

            Isabella looked up at her.  “But I can’t go...I don’t have anything to we...”  She stopped in the middle of the word and her eyes widened as she saw the significance of the gown Rita was holding up.  She caught her breath.  “Oh, my...”  She stood up and reached for it, then dropped her hands and looked ruefully at Rita.  “My stepmother and my stepsisters are there...if they saw me...”  Rita didn’t say a word, but grinned and held up the mask in her other hand.  Isabella slowly took it and held it up to her face, a slight smile now beginning to show itself.  “Won’t I look ridiculously out of place?  It’s not a masked ball....”  She looked at Rita anxiously.

            Rita slowly replied, “Well...think how mysterious you’ll be...and they surely won’t recognize you, all dressed up and wearing the mask....”  One of the horses whinnied and stamped.  Rita looked at Isabella and grinned.  “The carriage is waiting....”

            Isabella took a deep breath and held it for what seemed to Rita an eternity, then suddenly said “All right...I’ll do it!”

            Rita gave a little squeal of delight and gave the gown to Isabella.  “I’ve got a few more things in the carriage,” she explained and dashed out to get the rest of the things she’d brought.

            The two girls were so busy that they talked only of the business at hand -- getting Isabella ready for the dance and discussing what Rita would need to do at the manor house while she was gone as they worked.  They did in forty-five minutes what had taken Isabella’s stepsisters a day and a half.  At eight-thirty Isabella was fresh and lovely in the rose brocade dress, which fit as if it had been made for her (just as Rita had known it would).  They’d brushed her hair until it shone, then pulled it up and curled it with Eugenia’s curling iron (Rita had a small burn on her thumb from picking it up off the hearth incorrectly).  Isabella had no jewels, but she pulled a small trunk from under a loose floorboard and took out of it a single strand pearl choker her father had given her for a birthday present.  It settled perfectly against the base of her throat.  Rita scarcely recognized the elegant young lady as the girl she’d mistaken for a peasant the previous week.  Isabella was lovely...Gregory just had to notice her!

            “That’s everything but shoes,” Isabella said as she slipped her hands into the long gloves.  Rita’s mouth went dry and she felt the color drain from her face as Isabella continued.  “I have terribly small feet.  We’ll see if they fit.”  She looked around a moment then frowned slightly.  “Where did you put them?”

            Rita looked at Isabella with a stricken face. “Shoes,” she said in a rather strangled voice.  “I forgot about shoes.”

            Isabella smiled at her.  “Oh, these won’t show so much.  It’s all right...don’t worry.”  She started to slip her feet into her worn leather work shoes.

            “No!” Rita protested.  “You mustn’t wear those...they’ll spoil your whole outfit.”  She pulled off her own shoes.  They weren’t dancing slippers, but they were better than the inelegant work shoes Isabella had.  However, she was dismayed to see that they were awkwardly too big for Isabella.  She did indeed have tiny feet.  Isabella felt desperate.  “There must be something we can do...do you suppose we could stuff the toes with something?”

            Isabella frowned, thinking.  “Perhaps if we....”  Then, her face brightened as inspiration came to her.  “My mother’s wedding slippers!”

            “What?”  Rita asked as Isabella again opened the small trunk that had held her pearls and drew out a velvet draw string bag.  To Rita’s amazement, the bag contained what certainly looked like a pair of...glass slippers!

            “Are they really glass?”  Rita gasped, astonished.  She’d never heard of such a thing.

            Isabella nodded.  “My mother had them custom made for her wedding.”  She set them down, slipped her feet into them and took a cautious step or two, then looked at Rita with a rueful smile.  “They’re not terribly comfortable, either.  The left one is a bit big.”  She sighed.  “I suppose I’ll be miserable with blisters by the time the evening is over, but they’ll have to do.”

            “Are you ready?”  Rita asked, excited for her friend.

            Isabella took a deep breath.  “My outside is ready, but my inside is terribly nervous.”  For the first time that evening, Isabella’s face reflected pure panic.  “Oh, Rita, do you really think I can do it?”

            Rita waved her toward the door and, as they began the descent from Isabella’s tower, told her firmly, “Of course you can...if you have the right attitude.  You can’t go looking like a mouse waiting for the cat to pounce on it.  You are Lady Isabella Savoy, after all, and you are as noble as anyone else there.  Forget about all this for one evening.  Hold your head up and dance and enjoy yourself!”  They were downstairs just as the hall clock struck the three-quarter hour.  Rita frowned a bit.  “It will be nine o’clock before you get there.  Three hours isn’t very long.”

            Isabella sighed.  “Yes, but I think you’re right that I need to leave at midnight.  I have to be back home and have everything back to normal well before the others return.”  Then she brightened.  “Still, three hours at a royal ball is far better than an evening of polishing silver!”

            Rita laughed.  “Well, I hope I don’t do such a bad job of it that your stepmother suspects you didn’t do it.”

            Isabella smiled grimly.  “Oh, she’d just scold me for being lazy and make me do it again.  But I don’t think I would mind!”

            Rita picked Isabella’s invitation up off of the bench in the foyer and handed it to her.  “You’ll need to show this at the gate and probably at the door.”

            Isabella took the invitation.  “How did you get this, anyway?”  she queried.

            Rita had hoped she wouldn’t have to answer that question and evaded it with “No time now!” as she shooed Isabella out of the door into the dusky evening.  Martin jumped up and opened the carriage door for Isabella and helped her settle into the seat.  “Don’t forget to leave at midnight!”  Rita called from the doorway as Jerry snapped the reins and they started off.  She waved until they were out of sight, then stepped back into the empty house and shut the door.  Now all she could do was wait.  “And polish silver,” she told herself out loud as she headed down the hall.  It was going to be a long evening.

 

Serial Fun - Installment 7

Welp, best laid plans and all that...I never managed to get into the sewing room today.  Tomorrow is an all-day-at-church Wednesday, so...hopefully I'll get the second muslin cut out on Thursday.  For what it's worth, here's the little ancient diversion.  Earlier instalments are HERE, if you are late to the party...

The next two days were a blur.  Monday was the day Gregory was to arrive back at the palace, so once again Rita’s lessons were suspended.  She spent the morning getting fitted for her dress for the formal dinner the night of the ball, but she was so distracted by all the hubbub around her and by her own anxiety that she scarcely noticed what the dress looked like.  There was to be a ‘family’ banquet that evening, but the number of semi-royal persons at court had multiplied far beyond the usual and it appeared that the informal welcome home dinner the Queen had planned would not be far short of a full-fledged feast.  Rita was nervously watching all the young daughters, nieces, wards, cousins, etc., of the nobles who seemed to appear in court from the dust in the air.  Many were quite lovely, and all of them hoped to snare Gregory’s attention at the first available opportunity.  She desperately hoped Gregory would not fall madly in love with any of them before he’d even met Isabella.  She was even more anxious when Gregory’s entourage arrived just before noon and the whole lot of them descended upon him.  Rita watched as her older brother treated them all with the utmost courtesy and patience and breathed a sigh of relief as she noted that he treated them all exactly the same.  So far, so good. 

            It was the middle of the afternoon before Rita herself actually got a chance to spend any time with Gregory.  She found him heading toward the kennels and picked up her skirts a bit to catch up with him.  He heard her approaching and turned around with a look of rather strained patience, which turned instantly into delighted relief when he saw who she was.  ‘Rita!” He cried, giving her a hug that lifted her slightly off of the ground.  “The first young female I’ve been glad to see all day!”

            “Poor Gregory,” Rita sympathized as they began walking toward the kennels together.  “Has it really been that bad?”  She looked at him closely.  He was -- she did some addition -- twenty-two years old, and she decided he had finished growing up.  It was a bit of a shock to think of Gregory as a man, a grown man, and not just her adored big brother.  She tried to be objective, but she still thought him to be extremely handsome: tall and athletic, with sandy brown hair and deep blue eyes that, unknown to Rita, exactly matched her own.

            Gregory gave her a wry smile.  “You’ve no idea.  It’s not just the girls...it’s their mothers and grandmothers and aunts and godmothers... I’m beginning to think everybody in the kingdom is determined to get me married off.”  His smile turned into a broad grin as he opened the kennel door.  “Thank heaven for little sisters who aren’t interested in that yet!”

            Rita blushed as she walked in.  Maybe it was a good idea to just put Isabella where Gregory could meet her on his own, without anyone seeming to try to push them together.  All the same, she didn’t like being even indirectly included with all those ladies who seemed to be pulling Gregory in so many directions.  She finally squelched the pang of guilt by reminding herself that she wasn’t motivated by self-centered ambition...Isabella was perfect for Gregory.  She watched as Gregory opened the door of Champion’s run and called the dog to him.  Champion, who needed very little encouragement, was a picture of tail-wagging ecstasy as Gregory snapped the lead onto his collar.  Rita followed them out of the kennel before she finally spoke.  “Gregory...do you think you’ll ever fall in love?”

            Gregory shrugged.  “Oh, I suppose I’ve been close, once or twice.”  He sighed wearily.  “Ultimately, though, it seems that all the girls I’ve met have all been cut from the same cloth.”  They took the promenade walk to the garden perimeter.

            Rita frowned.  “‘Cut from the same cloth?’  What do you mean?”

            “Well...” Gregory thought a moment before he continued, “I have yet to meet a girl who is interested in me, Gregory, a man who likes dogs and Shakespeare and the moonlight on the lake.  I don’t think a single one of them could tell you what my favorite piece of music is, or what reforms I would like to make in what institutions when I have the opportunity.  I am a prize to be won, a stepping-stone to a better life, a crown and a title.  I have yet to meet someone that I can talk to like Father talks to Mother, someone I can trust to have sound judgment, who thinks of more than just gossip and fashion and parties.”  He paused for a moment.  “So tell me, Rita, are there any girls like that at court?”

            Rita thought of Lady Sophia, who was a fair reflection of the young ladies at court and shook her head.  “I don’t think you’ll find anyone like that at court.”  Oh, she wished she could tell him about Isabella!

            Gregory sighed.  “I thought as much.”  He grinned at her ruefully.  “Sorry to complain to you, little sister.  Mother and Father understand, thank God, and aren’t pushing me...yet.”

            Rita remembered her recent conversation with her mother.  “I don’t think they will, Gregory.  Mother says that a happy marriage makes a better monarch...I think they’ll trust your judgment.  If you’re following their example, I don’t see how you can go wrong.”  She smiled at him as they turned back toward the kennel.  “It may take a while, though, and everyone else will keep after you until you’re settled.”

            “I know.”  Gregory stated grimly.  “It’s a temptation to just go ahead and marry one of them, just to get the rest of them to leave me alone.”

            Shocked, Rita gasped, “Oh, Gregory, you wouldn’t really do that, would you?”

            Again, Gregory grinned at her.  “Oh, no, it’s just a temptation.  I’m determined to hold out until I find that girl that’s different.”  At that moment, the dog trainer spotted Gregory and waved to him.  Gregory looked at Rita and nodded.  “See you at dinner,” then took Champion over to the trainer. 

            Rita waved at him and headed back toward the palace, her heart singing.  Isabella was that different girl -- she knew it!  She shivered in anticipation as she mentally reviewed her list.  She had everything Isabella would need...she felt sure she could get her to the ball...but would Gregory get the chance to meet her with so many other girls vying for his attention?  Rita knew there was no way she could guarantee that.

            It was Wednesday before Esmerelda brought the rose brocade dress back from the laundry.  Rita was right -- the dress was absolutely stunning once it was fresh and crisp. Rita gazed at the dress after Es hung it in the wardrobe, still annoyed by the fact that it seemed somehow familiar.  It was a trifle out of style, but since it was a fairly classic design, Rita thought it wouldn’t look too out of place.  She knew Isabella would look lovely in it.  The portrait neckline and the puffed off-the-shoulder sleeves would give her a truly elegant appearance.  She would look like.... suddenly, Rita gasped, realizing where she’d seen the dress before.

            Against all possibility, it had to be the dress Bella Savoy had worn when Jerome Baltry painted her portrait. 

Isabella would look just like her mother.

To be continued...

Serial Fun - Installment 6

 

I got muslin one sewed up and pinned on, then made alterations to the pattern.  We'll cut out muslin 2 tomorrow.  I scooped the front neck a bit, lowered the bust shaping an inch and a half, and smoothed out the hip shaping considerably; I had a weird bubble there. I also shortened it 2" and increased the length of the back vent...it looked a bit skimpy.  The shoulders/ armsceye/ upper chest fit pretty well, which is good.  If that area is good,  think I can get the rest.  Eventually.  I walked the seamline on the pattern...should have done that before I cut anything...and discovered that I was taking about 3/4" too much up in the dart; the front side seam was shorter than the back side seam.  I wrangled that a bit but I think I have it correct now.  If my paperfolding was accurate, lol.

But still nothing worthy of a photo; so I'll slap up the next installment on the frivolity.  I have noticed the page views dropping so I'm guessing folks are getting bored with the story but I'm kinda committed to it now, lol.  HERE is the link to the previous installments; most recent first, if you're behind and want to catch up. Or you can quit here because that's the current status of my MOG dress...

Rita puzzled over the gown as she dressed for dinner.  Esmerelda didn’t bustle in to help her dress until she was nearly finished, so she had plenty of time to mull it over.  It didn’t seem to help much, though.  She came up with absolutely nothing.  She was barely on time for dinner, and only half-listened to the conversations around her as she pondered the problem some more.  Even if the dressmakers weren’t swamped with orders for new ball gowns, it would be impossible to bring Isabella in for a fitting.  Rita knew her own dresses would never do...Isabella was two or three inches taller, and certainly not shaped like an adolescent.  It was a problem.  Suddenly, one of the ladies asked Rita if she was excited about the ball.  Rita glanced at her mother, who smiled at her.  “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing Gregory again, and it will be fun to see all the people dressed up and dancing, but I won’t be attending any balls or hunts until my sixteenth birthday.”

            “Oh, I’d forgotten.”  It was one of her mother’s cousins who’d asked the question, and she was now acutely embarrassed.  She had only been trying to include Rita in the ladies’ conversation, so she tried a different topic.  “Won’t it be thrilling if the Prince selects a new sister-in-law for you at the ball?  There will certainly be a good number of young ladies there hoping to catch his eye!”

            Rita’s mouth went dry.  “Yes,” she reluctantly agreed, “I’m sure there will be.”  To Rita’s relief, the conversation moved away from her as several of the ladies discussed possible matches for the Prince.  She bit her lip, worried.  Gregory had to notice Isabella -- he just had to!

            When Rita went back to her room that night, she was still racking her brain trying to think of how to get a gown for Isabella.  She hardly listened to Esmerelda’s chatter as she bathed and dressed for bed, when suddenly she realized Es was talking about -- of all things -- ball gowns.  Rita began to listen very carefully to what Esmerelda had to say.

            “It’s a shame, that’s what it is, to make these poor seamstresses work around the clock making new dresses.  Why, they’ll get worn once and then discarded, just like all those others.”

            “What others, Es?”  Rita queried as Esmerelda brushed the Princess’s long, dark hair.

            The brush stopped for an instant, then continued.  “I don’t guess you’d know about it, would you?  In the storage room in the west wing are trunks and trunks of ball gowns, the majority of which are perfectly good, except for being stored for so long.”

            Rita was curious.  Perhaps she could find a dress for Isabella, after all.  “Where’d they come from?”

            Esmerelda continued brushing.  “Oh, various places.  Periodically, the dresses are auctioned off, and the proceeds will go to a worthy cause, but that hasn’t been done for a long time.  Most of the dresses are given to the collection for the charity auction, but a surprising number of them have just been left at the palace by visiting dignitaries’ wives.”

            “Just...left?”  Rita was amazed.  Why would anyone just abandon a beautiful ball gown?

            Esmerelda nodded grimly as she parted Rita’s hair down the middle.  “You’d be surprised how many of these noble ladies would be embarrassed to wear the same dress to more than one formal ball.”  Es began braiding the Princess’s hair.  “All those dresses, stuffed into trunks in the attic.  And if the ladies of the area would just wear them, then the seamstresses wouldn’t be worked to death next week.”

            Rita began to get excited.  Surely, one of those dresses would suit Isabella!  She calmed herself before she spoke.  “Are they really pretty?”

            Esmerelda tied off one braid and began the other.  “I haven’t been up there for a while, but I remember some of the dresses.  Yes, there are some very pretty ones...and some with some juicy stories.” 

            Rita could see that Esmerelda was more than just a little interested in the dresses; good, it wouldn’t take much to persuade her.  “Esmerelda, do you suppose we could go have a look at them?  Saturday morning, maybe?” 

            Esmerelda tied off the other braid, then looked at Rita and giggled.  “You know, that might be fun.  I’d like to see them...why not!”

            That was even easier than Rita had expected.  And it might work!  She just might be able to find a dress!  Oh -- Isabella would need an invitation.  That, at least, would be simple.  Rita waited until Esmerelda had gone to dress for bed, then pulled a sheet of parchment paper from her desk drawer.  She dipped her pen in the inkwell and carefully lettered “To the Lady Isabella Savoy.”  When she finished, she sealed the envelope and put it into her desk drawer and crawled into bed.  She was so excited over the possibility of getting Isabella to the ball (-- Won’t she be surprised! Rita had to stifle a giggle at that thought), that she expected to lie awake forever.  Instead, the bed felt surprisingly soft and Rita was asleep before Esmerelda blew out the lamps.

 

            Somehow, Rita managed to survive Friday’s lessons.  If her tutor noticed she seemed a bit preoccupied, he put it down to the fact that she was anticipating the Prince’s return and said nothing.  Rita herself felt as if she fidgeted all day.  She sent Esmerelda to help make additional preparations for the next week’s festivities and spent the afternoon rummaging around in her wardrobe for things that she could share with Isabella.  She was fairly certain that Isabella could adjust the drawstring on the crinoline enough to fit; it would be a bit short, but under a gown --oh, please, let there be a gown! Rita half prayed -- it wouldn’t show that much.  She found a pair of long gloves that were a bit big for her so Isabella wouldn’t have to feel self-conscious about her work-worn hands.  She put the things on a hanger in the far corner of the wardrobe and pulled one of her muslin dust covers over them.  Hopefully, Esmerelda wouldn’t notice them.  She made as much preparation as she could without knowing what kind of a dress she might find.  The day seemed to go on forever, but at last she crawled into bed for a rather restless night.  Sometime around two a.m., Rita sat up in bed, frustrated.  --If I’m this keyed up just about a dress, she wondered, --what on earth am I going to be like before the ball? She flopped back into bed.  “Go to sleep!” she whispered sternly to herself.  Either her subconscious listened or she finally was exhausted enough to overcome her nerves, because she finally fell asleep.  The next thing she knew Esmerelda was calling to her that she would be late for breakfast if she didn’t hurry and get up.

            Finally, breakfast was over and Rita and Esmerelda were wandering about in the west wing store room.  There were so many trunks, boxes, racks of clothes hanging under dust covers...Rita was overwhelmed, not knowing where to start.  She looked at Esmerelda.  “Do you know what’s in any of these?”

            Esmerelda frowned.  “Well, I helped put away the things from the last donation....let’s see....”  She looked under a couple of the dust covers, then pulled on a large trunk.  “I think this one has some things in it that I know...”  Between the two of them, they managed to get the trunk out where they could open it.  Sure enough, it was filled with gowns, crinolines, and other trappings.  Rita was delighted.  The first dress out of the trunk was a blue taffeta...obviously made for a rather large woman.  Esmerelda draped it carefully over a second trunk while observing “I don’t know anything about this dress...”  Rita pulled out a sea green silk dress that looked like it would be a possibility...until she noticed a dark stain down the front of the skirt.   Esmerelda clucked when she saw the dress.  “Oh, la, now, I remember this one!”

            “You do?  Do you know what’s on it?”  This was going to be fun!

            Esmerelda nodded with a bit of malicious glee.  “Oh, it was the talk of the court gossip for a good little bit.  Let’s see... it would have been four or five years ago, I guess.  There was one particular diplomat from Paris who was at court for awhile.  His wife was a...well, I suppose the delicate way of putting it would be that she was a bit free with her affections.  It was at a formal dinner party that she had a confrontation with the wife of one of the gentlemen that...well, rumor had it she’d been a bit free with.  Anyway, a glass of wine was ‘accidentally’ spilled down the front of the loose lady’s skirt and there was a terrible scene.  The next day, the Parisian diplomat took his wife back to Paris in disgrace, and the dress was found in a heap in the wardrobe of their room.  It was cleaned, of course, but the stain had already set.”  She frowned.  “I suppose a skilled dressmaker could replace the front panel of the skirt...if the fabric could be matched.  This is such an odd green.”

            Rita’s eyes widened.  “I had no idea...are there many stories like that?”

            Esmerelda shook her head.  “Oh, there are some, for sure, that I remember from when I used to help organize things for the charity auction, but I haven’t worked up here for several years now and there are more dresses than I recall.  We should have another auction soon.”

            “Who buys the dresses?”  Rita couldn’t imagine any of her mother’s friends condescending to wearing a used dress.

            Esmerelda shook out the green silk gown again and carefully laid it over the blue taffeta as she answered.  “Oh, tradesmen’s wives, generally.  They don’t come to the royal balls, but they do have their own social functions.  They can buy these gowns fairly cheaply, and then the dressmakers alter them slightly.  The dresses get used, the money raised goes to charity, and the royal storeroom gets emptied out.  It benefits everyone, I suppose.  It was one of your grandmother’s ideas.”

            More dresses, fine accessories and foundation garments followed, but nothing that looked like it would be suitable for Isabella.  Back into the trunk it all went, and another trunk was opened, but again only matronly fashions were included.  The third trunk was an odd shade of green, and it appeared that this would be a repeat of the earlier two.  The first dress out was a cream velvet that had a couple of moth holes in the bodice...then there were two crinolines and a set of panniers.  Then, a sky-blue dressing gown that looked as if it would fit Rita.  Rita, feeling her frustration rising, was beginning to wonder if they would have to open yet another trunk when Esmerelda pulled out a dress that made Rita gasp.  “This is pretty, isn’t it?”  Es commented as she shook it out.

            Rita reached for it.  It was a rich rose silk brocade.  She held it up to herself, trying to compare the too-long dress to her mental image of Isabella.  It would fit...she felt sure it would fit.  Plus, there were no wine stains, moth holes or other problems with the dress that she could see.  “Do you know where this one came from?” she queried.  There was something familiar about the dress...but it couldn’t be one of her mother’s old dresses...why did it seem familiar?

            Esmerelda was shaking her head.  “I think this one was one of the charity donations...but I don’t know anything else about it.”  She reached into the trunk again.  “Well, this is the last one,” she observed, pulling out a copper-colored taffeta.

            Rita looked at the dress, more out of courtesy than anything else.  She was sure she had the dress for Isabella in her hand.  Suddenly, a thought hit her as Esmerelda held the copper dress up.  “Es, I think that dress would fit you.”

            Esmerelda blushed as she quickly folded the dress.  “Oh, I’ve no need for a fancy ball gown.  I’ll be dressed in my best, but I’ll be helping tend the ladies’ lounge.  No dancing for me...as if I’d be any good at those dances, anyway.”  She bent over to put the dress back in the trunk, then smiled and pulled out something.  “Maybe if I put this on, I could get in, do you think?”  She held a bejeweled pink satin half-mask -- the kind worn to the annual masked ball on New Year’s Eve -- up to her face.

            Rita laughed.  “I don’t know...you still wouldn’t know how to do a minuet...”  She held out her hand for a closer look.  Esmerelda dropped the mask into her hand and began replacing the things they’d taken from the trunk.  Rita still held the rose brocade gown as she turned the mask over.  The pink satin didn’t exactly match the rose of the dress, but it was close enough, she thought.  Would Isabella go masked to a formal ball?  Rita bit her lip, thinking.  It would certainly solve the problem of her stepmother or stepsisters recognizing her.... Suddenly, she realized Esmerelda had asked for the dress in her hands.  “Oh.”  Rita handed it to her, frowning.  She watched as Esmerelda carefully tucked it back into the trunk.  At least it was the only green trunk in the room...it would be easy to find the dress again.  If she could get up here and if she could manage to have it cleaned and pressed.  She decided to take a chance.  “Es...do we really have to put it back?”

            Esmerelda looked up at her, mildly puzzled.  “Well, what else could we do with it?”

            Rita shrugged and said rather lamely, “Oh, I don’t know...it just seems too pretty to box back up again.  I think it would be even prettier if it were clean and pressed.  It seems like such a waste.”

            Esmerelda nodded grimly as she shut the lid to the trunk.  “I know.  And there’s probably two dozen dresses in these other trunks that are just as pretty and just as wasted.  That’s what I was saying the other night.  Every seamstress in the kingdom will be working ‘round the clock all week to make new dresses, when there are plenty of perfectly good dresses right here.  It just doesn’t seem right.”

            Rita pressed her luck.  “Es...I know someone who might wear that dress, if it were cleaned and if she didn’t know where it came from.”

            Esmerelda looked up sharply.  “Who?”

            Rita hesitated.  “Well, it’s someone who’s just a little older than me that I overheard lamenting the fact that she didn’t have anything new to wear, and her mother was having trouble engaging a seamstress for them.  I don’t get to spend much time with the other girls my age -- most of them are gone to school, and I thought it might be nice to try and help out someone.”  Rita hoped that she was neither telling too big of a lie or telling too much of the truth.

            Esmerelda’s eyebrows went up.  “I daresay you’re talking about Lady Sophia Gresham.  If you can get her to wear a used dress, you’ll be doing a wonder.  Still...”  Esmerelda’s voice trailed off as she opened the trunk and took out the rose dress.  She shook it out again and held it up.  “It might fit Lady Sophia...but it may be too outdated for her, with those puffy sleeves and all.”  She grinned at Rita.  “But it is a pretty dress… if she didn’t know where it came from, it might work.”  She closed the trunk and nodded, becoming a co-conspirator.  “We’ll give it a try.  I’ll get the dress freshened up, and I’ll swear the laundress to secrecy.”  She glanced at her brooch watch.  “Oh...it’s later than I thought.  We'll have to hurry for luncheon.”  She bustled the Princess out of the storeroom as if she were six years old, but Rita was so exultant at actually succeeding in getting the dress out of storage that she took no notice.  So, Es thought she was going to try to get that snooty Lady Sophia to wear the dress!  Well, if it worked, it worked.

            “Let me talk to her about it.”  Rita wanted to make sure Esmerelda didn’t cause trouble.  “If she doesn’t want it, well, I tried.  But if she even suspects that anyone could find out it was a used dress...”

            Esmerelda chuckled, obviously delighted to try and give the poor dressmakers even a small reprieve.  “Oh, I’ll let you handle it, Your Highness.”  She hadn’t even noticed that Rita had carried out the mask.

 To be continued...

Serial Fun - Installment 5

 

I did finish cutting out the muslin; I have the bust darts sewn up.  I have my reservations about how those are actually going to look on the body but I should get the rest of the muslin sewn up tomorrow after work.  It did occur to me that I really haven't tried to fit a true sheath dress since menopause, lol, so it could take a couple of iterations.

Meanwhile, I'll just keep posting chunks of the 20+ year old not-so-fairy tale; you can find the earlier parts HERE; just be aware that it posts the most recent first, so you gotta scroll down and read up...

Part Two -- The Plan

 

            “What can I do?”  Rita asked herself again as she skipped across the small brook at the edge of the orchard.  Isabella needed help in the worst way, but Rita had promised not to tell anyone about her.  --Maybe, she thought to herself, --some promises shouldn’t be kept.  But, if Isabella’s fears were true, and questions were asked, Rita didn’t know if she could deal with being responsible for Isabella getting another beating...or watching more of her mother’s precious statuettes broken. She replayed the entire story in her head as she made her way back across the fields, trying to see a solution for her new friend. Really, what Isabella needed was for someone to sweep down on the manor house without warning and spirit her… and her mother’s things… away.  --Perhaps when Gregory gets home, Rita conjectured, --he can help me think of something...if I can figure out a way to ask for help without breaking my promise.  Gregory had always been good at helping Rita solve her problems before he’d gone abroad. --After all, princes are supposed to be good at rescuing damsels in distress, she thought as she smiled to herself.  She added out loud as she crossed a rock fence, “Then they get married and live happily ever after.”  Suddenly, her smile faded and she stood stock still as she realized what she’d just said.  Gregory and Isabella!  Of course!  She took a breath, dazzled by this new idea, and began walking toward the stables.  “How can I introduce them?”  She scarcely noticed that she was talking out loud to herself again.  “What if Isabella came to the ball next week?”  Rita considered that thought for a moment, then added, “But her stepmother and stepsisters will be there.  What if they saw her?”  Maybe a disguise of some sort...she’ll need an invitation, and transportation, something to wear...

            Rita was lost in thought, so she didn’t notice that Jerry Rattes was leading one of the horses out of the stable as she approached.  He startled her when he gasped, “Your Highness!  I thought you went back to the palace!”

            Rita quickly glanced around to see if anyone else saw her, but fortunately Jerry was the only one in sight.  “I decided to take a walk around the pastures.  Please don’t tell anyone.”  She looked at him forlornly.  “I don’t get much chance to just think things through...”

            Jerry, who was a solitary soul by nature, had often thought to himself how tedious it must be to be a member of the royal family and always have to have someone in attendance.  He smiled at her shyly, “I’ll keep your secret, your Highness.”

            Suddenly, Rita was hit with inspiration.  “Can you really keep a secret, Jerry?”

            Jerry looked a bit uncomfortable.  “I hope so, your Highness.”  The horse he was leading stamped her foot impatiently, and Jerry looked up at her.  “I need to take Joyful to the pasture...she wants a roll and a mouthful of grass, don’t you, old girl?”  He patted the horse’s nose affectionately.

            “May I walk with you?”  Rita definitely saw a way to solve one of her problems.  “I think I may need your help on something.”

            Again, that uncomfortable look came to Jerry’s face, but he replied, “You know I’m at your service, your Highness.”  They began walking toward the pasture gate.

            Rita took a deep breath.  “Jerry, this is an absolute secret, for reasons I can’t explain right now.  But I have a friend who needs transportation to the ball next Friday.  Is there any way we can do something to help?”

            Jerry thought for a moment.  “Well, I don’t know if we could get permission to do it, but there is the pumpkin.”

            “The pumpkin?”  Rita was lost.

            “The old children’s carriage.  It’s round and sort of orangish -- we’ve always called it the pumpkin.  It would seat one person just about right.  It’s not been used for years and years.  Me and Martin could clean it up.” Martin was Jerry’s younger brother and was even more quiet and timid around the royal family than Jerry.

            Rita frowned, thinking, as Jerry opened the gate and let the horse trot into the pasture.  Just as Jerry predicted, she took a fast gallop for a few moments, then rolled in the grass.  Rita laughed aloud, ‘You knew that’s what she’d do!”

Jerry looked at the old horse fondly.  “Yeah, me and Joyful have both been around here together for quite a while.  She does better when the other horses are off out of the pasture; I always bring her round when it’s empty.” 

Rita watched the old horse for a moment as she clambered to her feet and began munching the grass, then ventured. “I suppose my friend would need a driver and footman...could you drive it?  Would Martin be willing to be a footman for the evening?” 

            Jerry took a deep breath, hesitated just a moment and replied, “Aye, your Highness, I think we could help.”

            “What about horses?  And livery?”

            Again, Jerry frowned.  “The wagon team would pull the carriage, I think.  There’s some of the old livery in storage in the carriage house.  I think we could find some that doesn’t have the royal crest on it.  But...won’t Mr. Leifert have to know about this?”

            Rita sighed.  “That’s the problem, Jerry.  I’m sure he’d want to check it out with my parents, and that would spoil everything.  I promised my friend I wouldn’t tell anybody about her …wanting to come to the dance....” Her voice trailed off.  She hoped she hadn’t already broken her promise.  But Jerry was very unlikely to ask any questions that would get Isabella in trouble.  Still, if everything depended on getting Leifert’s permission...suddenly, Rita thought that her great idea wasn’t so great after all.  All she was likely to do was to get Jerry and Martin in trouble with the stable master. 

            Jerry was watching the Princess as all this occurred to her.  She wasn’t aware of how disappointed she looked as she realized what she wanted probably wasn’t going to work.  --All she wants to do is help somebody, he thought.  --She ought to be able to do that.  Suddenly, he was determined that he would do anything he could to see to it that she did whatever she felt she needed to do.  “Your Highness, I’ll figure out something.  Me and Martin will make sure the pumpkin’s ready to take your friend to the ball.  Just leave it to us.”

            Rita looked up at him, astonished.  “But, Jerry, I don’t want to cause trouble for you...are you sure you can do it?”

            Jerry nodded.  “Y’see, your Highness, the other stable hands is used to me and Martin kind of being off by ourselves, anyway.  If we’re in the carriage house cleaning an old carriage, why, it won’t seem so odd to them.  Mr. Leifert don’t take that much notice of us anyway; we’ve both been around long enough that he trusts us to do what needs doing.  We’ll manage.”

            If Jerry hadn’t been ‘mucking out stalls’ that day, Rita might have been tempted to give him a big, grateful hug.  A dazzling smile had to take its place.  “Jerry, I don’t know what to say.  Thank you from...the tips of my toes!”

            This time, Jerry actually smiled broadly at her, gratified to see that he had pleased her so much.  “Happy to oblige.”

            Rita nodded.  “I’ll check with you next week about how we’ll get my friend.”  With a wave, she headed toward the palace, exultant.  It might work...it really might work!  Then, she thought of the next thing on her list -- a ball gown -- and realized that the biggest challenge was still before her.

To be continued...

In which some progress was made...

 So, I have slightly less than 4 weeks until I need the next MOG outfit.  This wedding is at a state park in the next county, so it's a bit closer to home.  But it's also a bit fancier.  IE, the bridesmaids...and the MOB...will be in black, mostly so they will show up against the sky behind the bluff on which the ceremony will take place.  But they are all wearing long black dresses.

So, yeah, I'm gonna hafta go a bit more upscale.

Now, I *do* have a failsafe;  we went to my hubby's 50 year class reunion two weeks ago and I wore something that I can just dress up a bit more with a better topper, shoes and jewelry...Under the Chico's sweater are a couple of Loes Hinse patterns...a black slinky Twinset shell and a Swing skirt, sans flounce, added pockets from the Oxford pants.

Not quite as uptown as I would like but if I have a fiasco in the sewing room it will do...because I'm doing a technique I haven't tried before. I am starting with this Vogue dress pattern; 

It's a simple sheath dress...you can see it better in the line drawing:

Today I finally got around to doing the first go at alterations...I did my normal narrow square shoulder adjustment, a FBA, and added some extra width.  I also added an underlap to the center back slit...I prefer a vent to a slit.  There are only two pattern pieces.

I had a huge chunk of nondescript gray cotton fabric that I bought 3 years ago to make face masks...I have no idea why I got so much?  It must've been on sale, lol. Anyway, it will do fine for a muslin.

I added a seam allowance to the center front; I will sew up the back seam and leave the front unsewn so I can just pin up the center front to close up the muslin.  Save messing with a zipper.  I'll put the seamline on a fold when I cut The Good Stuff.

I am omitting the vertical darts... I don't need that shaping (thank you middle age spread), but after doing the FBA that is one honkin' big bust dart.  I would  just convert it to a princess seam but...the whole reason I'm doing this simple pattern is because I am doing a lace overlay (which I have not done before) and I want to keep the structure as simple as possible, to not interfere with the lace.

We'll see how it looks once the muslin is sewn up.