by Amy Cross
***
Holding the dress up, Kate couldn't help but note that it seemed to be a couple of centuries out of fashion. Not that it was torn or tattered or that it showed any sign of age, but it definitely looked like something from the Victoria age or even earlier. She was loathe to put it on, feeling as if she'd look ridiculous, but Edgar had explained that it was the only thing he could locate at the moment, so she figured she had no choice.
Setting the dress down, she began to peel her soaking clothes off. The only light in the room came from a couple of candles flickering by the gloomy window, and Kate glanced at the door several times to make sure that no-one could see her as she stripped. It wasn't as if Edgar Le Compte had given her any cause to doubt him or not to trust him; if anything, he had been nothing but kind and helpful. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, and even though she told herself she was just being paranoid, she changed as quickly as possible, minimizing the time she was naked.
Once she was in the dress, she walked over to a full-length mirror in the corner of the room and grimaced as she saw her reflection. As she'd expected, she looked like she'd just wandered out of a Dickensian scene, although after a moment she realized that the ridiculousness of the situation was actually quite amusing. After patting the dress down to get rid of a few creases, she grabbed her wet clothes and arranged them on the hot water pipe that ran along one of the walls. With any luck, she told herself, she'd be able to put them back on again soon enough.
Outside, the storm was still raging, almost as if it was trying to pick the mansion apart and get to the people within.