After my mother departs, I’m left to enjoy my beautiful new room in peaceful silence. I sit at the edge of my bed, the same position I’ve been in since Mother left. My party begins in an hour, which means I must enjoy this respite while I can. This is one of the rare occasions where boredom doesn’t bother me. Perhaps it only ever has because I’ve been missing a mother who would talk my ear off. As charming as she is, she does make me appreciate silence. Is that how Thorne feels about me?
I shake thoughts ofhimfrom my mind, but not before reminding myself that his silences are sharp. This kind is soft. A much more enjoyable kind.
The only thing better than silence would be my phonograph, but the little foxes have only delivered my garment bag. I suppose the rest of my things will remain on the coach.
Since I’m leaving tomorrow.
To meet my fiancé.
The thought makes me want to punch my ruffled pillows and dive under the blankets to hide from tonight’s festivities. My bones are weary, my mind and emotions even more so. It’s no surprise considering the tumultuous revelations this day has brought. When I awoke this morning, I had an entirely different idea of how my day—and my life, for that matter—would go.
But no, I can’t be selfish. Or perhaps it’s selfishness that fortifies my legs and forces me to rise from the edge of my bed. As drained as I am, Iwantto meet my family. I want to see my father, my cousins, my uncles, my aunts—whatever extended family I have. I want to bask in their love. I want to hear how they’ve missed me. I want the validation that I was important to these people all along.
Selfish indeed.
But true.
I make my way over to a moonstone dressing table where I find a water-filled basin. Steam curls off the surface of the water and fills my senses with the aroma of jasmine. I dip my hands into the basin and splash the fragrant water over my face. The result is both soothing and invigorating. Once I’ve refreshed myself with my makeshift bath, I assess the contents of the wardrobe. Mother was right about stocking it with gowns in the fae style. While human fashions include layered skirts, corsets, and tight busts, fae clothing tends to be light, gauzy, and unrestrictive.
Growing up at the convent, my understanding of modern dress was limited to the fashion magazines some of the girls would sneak in. It wasn’t until my trip to Lumenas that I saw stylish clothing firsthand. Since the city caters to humans and seelie fae, human fashions were most common, but I spotted many fae ensembles as well.
While I envied the latter then, seeing a wardrobe full of sheer silks, crystal-speckled lace, and flowing chiffon has me feeling intimidated. None of the sensual dresses seem appropriate for meeting one’s family for the first time.
With a sigh, I close the doors and retrieve my garment bag from the foot of my bed and prop it on my dressing table. One more night in my drab clothing won’t hurt—
My mind goes empty as I open my bag.
A splash of color fills my vision where I expect to find only gray. I pull my head back, staring at the pink silk threaded with gold. Then, gingerly, I reach inside and extract the item. I anticipate something small—a kerchief, perhaps—considering my bag was already full when I finished packing. Yet the more I pull, the more that seems to be inside. First comes a low-cut bust lined with pale pink ruffles, followed by a bustled skirt decorated with silk roses. It’s a ballgown, and one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. Once I have it fully out of my bag, I’m convinced it could only have been placed inside by an enchantment, for the gown is several times larger than my bag and has been stuffed with petticoats, a white-and-gold brocade corset, silk stockings, and a garter.
I turn the gown this way and that, then drape it over my bed. That’s when I find the letter carefully pinned to the skirt.
My Dearest Miss Rose,
I’ve been working on this for you for months. Even when there was still a chance you’d leave us as a governess, I was determined to give this to you. I’ll say to you now what I’ve been wanting to say to you for such a long time, for I know the secret yearning you hold in your heart.
You, Briony Rose, will dance.
All the best,
Sister Agatha
Tears prick my eyes. I can’t believe Agatha made this for me. That she’s been planning to give it to me for months. My only regret is that the dress is far too fancy to wear tonight. It’s the kind one needs a lady’s maid for. Still, the gesture along with Sister Agatha’s kind words have a giddy sensation bubbling in my chest.
You, Briony Rose, will dance.
I note that she didn’t refer to me as Rosaline Briar or Princess Rosaline, which I appreciate. To my teachers, I want to remain Briony Rose. Their student. The child they cared for. For twenty years, they and my peers were the closest thing to family I knew.
I cast one more wistful glance at the ballgown and return to my bag. Empty-handed, of course, for there’s no way I’m getting that ruffled confection back inside. When I reach into it a second time, I discover yet another splash of color, pale blue. I shake my head in amusement as I withdraw yet another piece of clothing that had been magically forced inside my bag. It isn’t nearly as large or ornate as the first, but it’s still just as lovely—a chemise in a robin’s egg-blue muslin. It’s very much a human-style article with a lace-trimmed bust and bottom hem, but there’s a sensual beauty to its low-cut neckline, the way the sleeves are meant to drape off the shoulders.
Something flutters to the ground, and I turn my gaze to the floor. There I find a folded piece of parchment. I set the chemise beside the ballgown on the bed and read my second letter.
My little sugar sprite,
Wherever you go and whatever adventures await, don’t forget the value of a cozy nightgown. The secret is to call it a nightgown, not a chemise, yet wear it like the latter. That way, no matter how rough your day gets, you can always take comfort in knowing that beneath all your clothes, you’re secretly wearing pajamas.
Sincerely yours,
Sister Spruce
