Chapter 8
1043 Words
Marie was awake before Giselle came in to draw the curtains and the drapes around her canopy bed. She lay there in the great bed for a moment, fingers idly tracing the heavy embroidery of her bedspread.
She had told Elizaveta about the strange meeting with Alfons in the garden when she got back, only for the other girl to shrug and say that the prince was taciturn by nature. To Marie, that didn’t really explain much, and she wished Elizaveta had more to say than just that.
Despite the weeks of training, she felt as if she didn’t know anything about anyone in the palace after all.
It felt a little dangerous to be so woefully informed, in here, in Marimiers of all places.
The sunlight was bright as Giselle collected the drapes to tie them into place around the bedposts and greeted her good morning. Marie returned the greeting, stretching and swinging her feet over the side of the bed to begin pulling on the slippers that had been provided for her to walk within the apartments.
”Oh no, my lady!” Giselle hurried to snatch up the slippers. ”Please let me.”
”I’m just wearing the slippers,” Marie said bemusedly. ”Hardly any effort on my end.”
”Yes, my lady, but it is the custom to allow one’s maid to dress them. For any item of clothing whatsoever.”
”Even my shift?”
”Yes my lady.”
Marie took a deep breath, and willed herself not to make any sarcastic remarks. This was Marimiers. Madam Belrac had drilled that into her head far too many times for her to even count. Ridiculous rituals were the rule, as she should well know by now.
”You don’t have to add ’my lady’ every time you end a sentence,” she said, as she allowed Giselle to pull stockings over her legs, and follow them up with the slippers. ”Seems unnecessary after the first time you say it.”
”If that is your wish, I’ll stop it, my la- Er. I’ll stop it.”
”Thank you. I appreciate that.”
At least the maid wasn’t going to quibble with her over that. Small mercies where she could find them.
Elizaveta came over by the time she was done washing her face, to help oversee her dressing for court, as it was to be her formal introduction to Marimiers.
”I think the blue dress might be a suitable choice,” she said, critically looking over the dresses that had been prepared for Marie. ”I like the gold and pink, but perhaps on your first day, you should show ties to the Vifort colours without being outright dressed in grey.”
”Why not grey? Why can’t I simply wear my house colours?”
Elizeveta shook her head. ”Why do you think we went to all that trouble of ensuring you brought nothing from Vifort? You are Marie of Vifort, yes. But starting today, you are Marie, princess consort of Gadilida. And our national colours are-”
”Purple and pink.”
”I was going to say ’not grey’. But quite right.” She fussed over the details in the dress, frowning as she looked over the accessories that were to go with it.
Marie looked up from where Giselle was lacing her into a stiff corset. ”Why not just wear purple or pink then? There’s a rather ornate pink dress right there in the armoire.”
”No. You haven’t been introduced properly yet, you’re not really a part of ’us’. So to speak. A transition of grey to bright blue will be enough to say that you’ve left Vifort behind but are still your own person. We have to convey that integrity.”
Marie scoffed. ”It seems rather subtle, don’t you think? Will people really read that much into the colour of the dress I wear, as long as it’s not my house colours?”
Elizaveta fixed her with a look. ”You forgot, I spent all my childhood and half my adult years so far here. I know what these people are like.”
That was true. Marie stuck out her arms out obediently, like a tree with ungainly branches, and submitted herself to be dressed in the blue gown as Elizaveta ordered.
For now the older girl was dressing her and helping her decide on every little detail. Marie wasn’t sure how she would manage all of this alone, and when she would have to start doing so. Hopefully Elizaveta would deign to stay on her side, at least until she’d gotten some of the ropes down firmly.
After the dress and jewellery came the hair. Marie watched in fascination and a mild amount of horror as Giselle first combed and braided her hair into an elaborate style- only to add several heavier headpieces to accentuate it. There were two heavily braided hair pieces, to give the impression of her having much more hair than she actually did, and then various jewelled bits and bobs that interwove with each other to produce a cascading net of glittering points upon her head.
Marie felt like she could barely move her head.
”You’re not wearing something this awful,” she said, frowning at Elizaveta.
”Oh, don’t worry. It’s my turn once I see you’re all done.”
As if that weren’t enough, the next step was a whitening powder that was applied all over her face and decolletage. A darkened stick of charcoal swiped over her brows returned some colour to them, as did careful pats of rouge on her cheeks. With careful strokes, Giselle applied little pots of paint to her eyes- black and gold- and finished off by dabbing red softly in the centre of her mouth, creating the effect of gently bitten lips.
She had never looked this much like a doll. Marie scrutinised the effect in the mirror. If this was what she was going to look like at her wedding, she had half a mind to disinvite her family.
Elizaveta disappeared as promised, and came back shortly after, primped similarly to the way Marie was. Less elaborate, she supposed, but then she was a lady-in-waiting, while Marie was the new bride to their crown prince.
”I think you’re ready now,” she pronounced, after taking a careful walk around Marie to inspect her from all angles. ”Quite the perfect image of a princess consort.”
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