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‘And anyway’ Harriet remarked ‘You could tell the wear in that dress a mile off. It wouldn’t have lasted a week’
Her companion nodded meekly, thinking that she wouldn’t have complained had her employer the decency to buy her a new dress once in a while.
The two of them made an odd pairing, making their way down to the busy port, Harriet clad in a deep violet chiffon gown and her maid, Lucinda, dressed only in a plain blue matronly dress that reached the top of her ankles- she could only have been 14 or so.
Harriet didn’t notice Lucinda rolling her eyes at the rich girl’s vanity, she was too busy making eyes at passers by. One day, the maid noted, it would get her into trouble she couldn’t handle. Harriet’s father, Philip, was a well-known merchant in this town, and had hired Lucinda to keep his daughter busy, having his own affairs to attend to without her constantly under his feet. The result was that Harriet dragged the poor girl about town, taking delight in showing her up as her ‘servant’.
It was only the money that the job brought in to feed her family and the sweet nature of the brat’s father that kept her from handing in her notice. She couldn’t bear to do that to Philip- he’d already had so many previous maids leave on Harriet’s account. The servant girl sighed heavily, and returned the understanding glance from a passing sailor.
Harriet smiled sweetly at yet another stranger and opened her purse to check how much of her Mama’s allowance she had left, when a silver piece dropped from the velvet opening and landed with a clink upon the pavement. The raven haired beauty stopped for a moment to pluck the shining metal from the cobble when her hand was captured by another.
‘Oh!’ She exclaimed, pausing for a moment and gazing transfixed at the large calloused fingers cupping her own small digits. Harriet made the mistake of looking from the hand covering hers, to the features of its owner. She was immediately held in the intense gaze of a beautiful, olive skinned man, whose fiery amber eyes seem to strip her to her very soul. His raging pupils held her gaze as he pulled her sharply to her feet. But before he let her loose, the dark haired man brought her hand to his lush lips and brushed them against her knuckles, and she could have sworn he had scraped his tongue along the delicate flesh, setting her senses tingling.
‘Senorita’ the man drawled in a strange accent, but she stood wordlessly, staring at him. It wasn’t apparent whether she was appalled, nor dazed but certainly speechless. From his boyish grin, she realised he took her silence as the latter.
Harriet was instantly broken from her trance, and appeared rather annoyed that this man had the impertinence to speak to her. She snapped her purse shut with a click, looking down her daintily upturned nose at the male perfection before her.
‘Excuse me.’ she replied curtly avoiding his devastating gaze by stepping abruptly to the side and beginning to totter down the street once more. Lucinda hurried after her, shooting the man an apologetic look.
But Roche hadn’t excused her and he didn’t intend to. Fiery eyes narrowed, and completely missed Lucinda’s apologetic glance. Instead, he watched hungrily as his target tottered away on her ridiculous heels, swearing that he would make her pay.
Nobody was that rude to Roche and got away with it, not even women as distinguished as Harriet.
He hardly noticed the attentions of a coyly smiling woman, hanging from her husband’s arm, too busy plotting his revenge to wink back at her.
*********************************************
Out of the corner of her eye, Harriet caught sight of a crimson evening dress in one of the shop windows and clapped her ivory hands in delight. Without explanation she pulled Lucinda toward the dressmakers, and hurried inside.
The gown rested gently on a single hanger, inviting the raven-haired beauty as she stepped back, allowing Lucinda to slide the garment from the twisted pine and metal and hand it to her mistress.
Harriet’s eyes lit up like a child in a sweet shop, rushing towards the ornately decorated screens at the back of the shop to try the gown on and stroking the cloth like an old friend as her maid unlaced the back of her dress. Meanwhile, the merchant’s daughter admired her ravishing reflection in the glass opposite, turning this way and that to make it as difficult as possible for Lucinda to help her out of her current garment.
Eventually the crimson silk graced Harriet’s form, and she grinned in delight at herself, marveling in her own beauty. Her smile faded away though, as she noticed that the corset could not be drawn any tighter, this wouldn’t do at all.
‘Lucinda.’ The maid winced from her position at the side of the screen, Harriet’s syrupy tones seeming even snootier than usual. She didn’t wait for a reply. ‘You know my size, so why is this gown too large at the waist? Hmm?’
The young maid directed a submissive glance at her mistress. It didn’t seem too large to her, on the contrary, her mother would have said that there was plenty of growing room. Nevertheless, Harriet wasn’t pleased. ‘Go and fetch a size lower. And be quick about it.’ Lucinda nodded and scuttled away.
Harriet smiled smugly to herself and returned her attentions to the looking glass in front of her. Against her ebony locks, jade green eyes peered admiringly back at her, and her complexion seemed milky white in contrast.
Her father had called her ‘Snow White’ as a child- for her wavy black hair and luscious red lips gave her a beauty that was hardly comparable to the drawings of fairy tale princesses in her story books. And there was no doubt that Harriet knew of her looks.
She was admiring the way her eyes glittered knowingly back at her, when she realised that the dress-makers was deathly quiet, and had been for quite some time. Harriet stilled, and after a moment or two, called ‘Lucinda? Where is that dress?’
There was silence, and then the sound of rustling silk. She looked down at her own garment, trying to decide whether the noise had come from outside. Lucinda wasn’t usually this quiet. Harriet called again ‘Lucinda? Stop being silly, it isn’t funny.’
But her voice was more uncertain this time, and there was definitely a soft footstep falling nearby, but not Lucinda’s. The servant girl wore threadbare slippers, these footsteps belonged to boots, men’s boots. The dark-haired girl made a move toward one side of the screen, trying to see who was there. She peered to one side, into the rest of the shop. There was no-one.
With a sigh of relief, the merchant’s daughter stepped out from behind the screen, an expression of bewilderment resting on her delicate features.
A few moments later and a shadow on the wall caught her attention.
In less than a second, she felt a pressure on the back of her head.
Harriet was unconscious before she hit the floor.
Geraldine
- 16.01.2023
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