by Gayla Twist
Chapter 22
This was the moment I had been waiting for, the reason I had tolerated all the plucking and covert snarky remarks from Madame Orzy. She said most of them under her breath and in French, but I knew what she meant.
Margaret came back staggering under the awkward weight of two large garment bags, a hat box, and another strangely shaped bag that reminded me of when people covered their used Christmas trees with plastic and left them out on the lawn for the garbage collector; something inside the bag was sticking out in odd directions.
“Zee panniers,” Madame Orzy said, snapping her fingers at Margaret.
Out of the awkwardly shaped bag, the maid pulled a contraption that looked like a round birdcage that had been cut in half and tied back together at the top with a wide cord. This device was tied around my waist with a half birdcage resting on each hip. Over that went a deep blue silk skirt with a million ruffles down the front. And on top of all of that was a dress in a twinkling silvery blue with a gaping front to show off the ruffles underneath. It had a plunging neckline, and the sleeves were snug until the elbow where they fanned out into a flutter of fabric that draped off my arms.
“And now,” Madame Orzy said, taking the lid off the hat box with a flourish, “zee pièce de résistance.”
I knew that what she removed from the box was a hat, but it looked exactly like a miniature ship, a galleon under full sail. It was so charming, I wanted to squeal. I couldn’t stop myself from clapping my hands and bouncing up and down in delight. Margaret was grinning, and even Madame Orzy cracked a small smile.
“If you will, please,” Madame Orzy said, lifting up the hat and jerking her chin down, indicating that I should lower my head for her to place the ship.
I did a deep curtsy—it only felt appropriate—and Madame affixed the hat to my puff of hair.
“Zee stockings, zee shoes!” Madame Orzy barked, clapping her hands twice. I had the feeling I should have already been wearing both but she had simply forgot.
Margaret scrambled to get them. Then, kneeling on the floor, she helped me finish dressing while Madame Orzy stood at my side to make sure I kept my balance. The stockings were light blue and felt more like tights than nylons. “Zhey are woven from silk,” I was told by Madame. “Zhey are made zee traditional way like for zee court of Louis Quatorze.” The stockings weren’t held up with garters like we did in modern times, but tied with ribbons and finery at the knee. It seemed the clothing of a few hundred years ago had a lot to do with binding and cutting off circulation.
I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the shoes. They were constructed of a heavy blue fabric, had square heels and a large silver buckle over each tongue. They looked like what I imagined a puritan would wear, if one of the pilgrims was a drag queen. But they fit and were very comfortable, so I had no reason to complain. I had found it amazing that everything fit so completely, but Madame Orzy had assured me, “Mr. Vanderlind was very specific.” I didn’t even want to begin to think about how Jessie had estimated my size.
And finally, the reveal. The two ladies led me into the bedroom where there was a full-length mirror. They had to teach me how to walk properly in my dress otherwise it started going from side to side like a bell with my legs as the clapper. Getting through the doorway was another challenge, but Madame assured me that the birdcage actually collapsed under pressure and then could be fluffed up again.
The mirror had been covered in a sheet so that I couldn’t catch a glimpse of myself as I approached. Madame Orzy insisted upon sweeping back the sheet herself. “Voila!” she exclaimed as she pulled the fabric away.
In the mirror, I saw a large porcelain doll dressed in a very fancy gown. She looked like the kind of doll I always wanted when I was little but my mom could never afford. My grandmother, Grandma Gibson’s daughter, finally bought me one as a special present, but I was never allowed to play with it. The doll just sat high on a shelf—me staring up at it and it staring down at me, beautiful but too good for my grubby little fingers. I felt a little disoriented looking at the giant doll in the mirror. I went to put a hand to my cheek, and the doll moved too. The doll was me. I stepped forward and laid my palm to the glass. I’ve never been all that excited about looking at myself in the mirror, but even I had to admit I looked beautiful. My skin looked flawless; my hair was tumbling waves on which my galleon hat sailed. The dress took my normally hourglass figure and amplified everything but my waist, which looked almost as slender as my neck. I was so entranced with the costume that I completely forgot anyone else was in the room until Madame Orzy made a little sound in the back of her throat. She was obviously waiting for accolades.
“I love it,” I whispered, a bit overcome. “I feel just like a princess out of a storybook.” I did a slow turn in front of the mirror so I could see myself from every angle.
“You look just like a princess, too,” Margaret told me.
“Yes,” Madame Orzy said with an approving nod. “You look very nice. Very nice, indeed.”
There was a gentle knock on the door, and Gloria stuck her head in. “Almost ready?” she asked. “Mr. Vanderlind is waiting.” Then, doing a double take, she entered the room, one hand pressed against her lips. “Aah!” she sighed. “You look lovely.” She came closer to get a better look. “Yes, we will make him stand there a few minutes longer. He will feel it is worth the wait.”
But I couldn’t stand not being with him any longer. “Jessie is outside?” I asked. It was hard to suppress my urge to make a dash for the door. I couldn’t wait for him to see me in my costume. I could never be as gorgeous as he was, but at least for the ball, under the magic hands of Madame Orzy, I was getting close.
“Mr. Vanderlind is waiting at the bottom of the stairs,” I was told. I suddenly felt very nervous, but a good kind of nervous, one generated by excitement.
“Do not rush down to him,” Madame Orzy told me. “You take your pose at zee top of zee stairs. You give him a chance to admire what a work of art he see before him. You make zee entrance. And zhen you go down.”
“Thank you so much, Madame Orzy,” I gushed, taking both her hands and giving them a squeeze. “You really are brilliant,” I told her.
I was bending down a little to give her a peck on the cheek, but she pulled away. “No, no,” she scolded me, waving a finger in the air to ward me off. “You must not forget zee makeup.”
“I’m sorry, Madame,” I told her, but I could tell she was secretly pleased.
“I should get back to my work,” Gloria said, turning to go.
“No,” Madame Orzy insisted. “We will wait here while Mademoiselle Colette makes zee entrance.”
Flashing everyone a nervous smile, I crossed the room and negotiated my giant skirt out the door. “Head up!” Madame Orzy commanded as I entered the hall. “You are making zee entrance, not walking to zee next class in high school.”
She was right. I adjusted my posture accordingly and did my best to glide almost to the top of the stairs. I stopped just out of view of Jessie, putting my hand over my heart and touching my Pools of Light necklace. I wanted to savor this moment. I knew without a doubt that this would be the most glamorous evening of my life, however long that would be, and I wanted to remember it.
Forcing the smile from my face, I tried to garner a more sophisticated expression. I took three steps forward so that I was at the top of the staircase. There, at the bottom of the stairs, was Jessie Vanderlind. He looked so gorgeous, he stole my breath away.
Jessie was looking up toward the stairs expectantly. He was wearing a midnight blue velvet coat that cut away to tails, a blue vest with fabric that matched the ruffles of my skirt, and dark blue pants that had a lighter blue stripe down each leg, which put me in mind of the American Civil War or Han Solo. Black boots, a white shirt with a minimum of frills at the collar, and a jaunty tricorn hat tucked under his arm filled out the look. Dark gloves, a sword at his waist, and his killer good looks completed it. In the period attire, he appeared even more dark
and dangerous, like he was ready to fight a duel, rather than like the gentle but brave vampire that I had given my heart to.
Jessie caught sight of me, his gray, flashing eyes raking over my body, and I felt my thighs heating up with desire. Then he ran his hand through his black hair several times, ruffling it from where it had been combed back smooth and even. He spoke, quoting, “Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean - roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain.” With that, Jessie broke into a smile, and I couldn’t hold back. I had to smile too. I began to descend the stairs, and he raced up to me, reaching for me. “You look so gorgeous,” he said, his arms around my waist. “I knew this design would be stunning on you. I hope you like it.”
“I love it,” I stammered. “It’s the most beautiful thing I could imagine. I feel just like a princess. Thank you so much.”
“You know I would do anything for you,” he said in a low, almost husky voice.
I looked into his gray eyes and saw the waves of passion there, crashing like a storm in the Atlantic. All of my doubts and fears and silly ideas about cloning evaporated. I couldn’t even remember why I had felt so insecure while he was holding me in his arms. I was an idiot; I was a fool; I was in love.
He looked at me again and then frowned. “There is one thing that isn’t quite right,” he said. “There’s something that’s just not working.”
“What?” I asked, looking down and wondering if he’d somehow gotten a glimpse of my shoes.
He reached up and, with one finger, gently caressed the Pools of Light that I always wore around my neck. “I’m really glad you enjoy the pendant that I gave you, but it doesn’t exactly go with your gown.” Reaching into his breast pocket he produced a flat, blue velvet box. “I think this might better suit the style.” He popped open the lid of the box, and I let out a gasp.
Fanned out on the velvet was the most beautiful necklace I had ever seen. It was quite simple as far as setting, just moonstones bezel set in gold. But each gem glistened like a tear, shimmering, dancing with flashes of rainbow. The first row of moonstones was tight like a dog collar to be secured at the middle of the neck and then the other stones cascaded down like beading water. It was enchanting. I couldn’t stop staring at it.
“It’s Lalique,” Jessie told me. “By the master, of course.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I could see the word Lalique embossed on the inside of the box lid, so I assumed he was some kind of genius jewelry designer from a long time ago. “Jessie,” I breathed. “It’s so beautiful. It’s just too much. I couldn’t possibly...”
“Aurora,” he said, taking my hand and pressing it to his lips. “If I can’t give my fiancée a piece of jewelry now and again, then really, what’s the point?”
I instantly wondered if he was concerned that someone was listening. I leaned in close to him and whispered, “I seriously can’t take this.”
“Yes,” he whispered back, just a kiss away from my lips, “you seriously can.” Then, plucking the necklace from its box, he said, “Turn around.”
Standing on the step above him, we were almost the same height. I dutifully turned around, and he reached for the clasp of my Pools of Light, his fingers brushing along my neck causing small shivers to race up and down my spine. “Here,” Jessie said, handing me the pendant to hold while he worked the clasp on the necklace.
While I waited, feeling the coolness of the moonstones on my neck, Margaret came quickly down the stairs. “Shall I take that for you, Mademoiselle?” she asked.
“Please,” I told her. “Would you put it in my bag? It’s very important to me.”
“Of course,” she said, reaching for the jewel. As our hands touched, there was an exchange, and she slipped the diamond ring into my hand. It was so large, I still wasn’t comfortable wearing it and had accidentally left it on the dressing table.
“Thank you,” I mouthed to her. It really would have been bad manners if I showed up to dinner not wearing it. She had definitely saved me from embarrassment and probably hurting Jessie’s feelings. I quickly slipped it on my finger.
“There,” Jessie said, securing the clasp. Spinning me around, he leaned back to get a view of my whole ensemble. And then he didn’t say anything, just looked.
“Well?” I finally asked him.
“You’re always pretty,” he told me. “Beautiful, in fact. But tonight you are enchanting.” Jessie’s eyes were twinkling as he took me in, and I felt my heart throb with pleasure. From somewhere within the house, I heard a gong. “Oh good,” Jessie said, turning to head down the stairs and offering me his arm. “It’s time for dinner. I haven’t eaten since I got up, and I’m absolutely starving.”
Chapter 23
I did not want to think about what it meant for my vampire boyfriend to be starving. We were on our way to the dining room, and I was just going to have to deal with whatever was going to happen. I suddenly remembered Margaret’s warning to eat before dinner, and I regretted not following her advice. I had grown accustomed to fiddling with my Pools of Light when I was thinking, so my hand automatically sought the pendant and found the moonstones instead. It made me think of something. “Jessie? Can you touch silver?”
He looked over at me, clearly not expecting the question. “What?”
“There’s that legend that vampires can’t touch silver, but you have no problem with my Pools of Light and it’s silver.”
“Oh,” he said with a laugh. “Okay, you caught me.”
“Caught you at what?” I asked. We passed the last step of the staircase, and Jessie led me across the room toward a wide set of doors. I assumed he knew where he was going. I sure didn’t.
“Most Pools of Light are set in sterling, but yours is set in platinum,” he confessed. “I knew you would be uncomfortable if I gave you anything too expensive, so I just didn’t tell you.”
“Jessie,” I said in a scolding tone.
He gave a small, guilty shrug.
“But that still doesn’t explain...” I was about to ask about vampires and silver, but as we crossed the threshold into the next room, we appeared to be in the company of several vampires, and my words trailed away from my lips.
Everyone had been talking, but as we entered, the room fell silent. We stood there, and I wondered—if I made the wrong move, would they all descend upon me and tear me to pieces?
“Jessie, there you are, my dear boy,” a woman said, quickly approaching us. She looked in her forties somewhere. She had on a gown with a skirt that appeared to just be layers and layers of gold tulle. It was beautiful, but looked like something that would be worn by a fanciful little girl pretending to be a fairy; the gown contrasted with her age and made her look older. “And is this your Colette?” she asked, turning to look at me, her eyes wide and blue.
“Yes, Madame Csorbo, may I present Miss Colette Gibson, my fiancée. Colette, this is Madame Csorbo; she is the lady of the house.”
“What a darling girl,” the vampiress said, taking both my hands and holding them out to my sides to get a better look at me. “I’m not sure I’d be willing to die for you, but still, you are a darling child.”
“You have such a lovely home, Madame Csorbo,” I told her, not sure if I was supposed to shake hands or curtsy or something. What I really wanted to do was yank my hands out of her grasp and get the hell out of there. The way she was looking me over, I felt like the dinner rather than a dinner guest.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another vampiress approaching Jessie with open familiarity. She was gorgeous, with ash-blonde hair piled on her head and festooned with white ostrich feathers. Her dress was really a state of undress. She was all in white and appeared to be wearing just her undergarments: a white silk corset pushing up her perfect breasts and accentuating her already slender waist, a very frilly pair of bloomers, and full panniers bobbing about over that. Her birdcage was squashed into an oval, rather than bisected, like mine.
The way this half-dressed beau
ty greeted Jessie, curving her body toward him as they embraced, caused jealousy to flame up within me. Who the hell was she, and why was she pawing my man?
“What do you think of my gown?” Madame Csorbo was asking. “I hate it. Don’t you?”
“No, it’s beautiful,” I told her. “It’s like a little girl’s dream.”
“Yes, but I look dreadful in it.” She looked down at all the tulle with distaste. “I had Miss Simone do it, and that was obviously a mistake. I really could have ripped her head off, but it’s too late now. I’m just going to have to put up with it.” I felt very sorry for Miss Simone, whoever she was.
“Who is that woman talking to Jessie?” I asked. The vampiress in white was touching his chest and leaning toward him to speak more intimately.
“Oh, that’s my daughter, Vilma,” Madame Csorbo said. “She and Jessie have been friends for half a century.” She tugged me a little further away from the other people in the room and fixed me with a steady gaze. “But tell me, my dear girl. You don’t really want to spend the rest of your life shackled to a vampire, do you?”
This abrupt change in the conversation was a little surprising. I had been trying to covertly watch Jessie and Vilma, but I was so caught off guard that I turned to look Madame Csorbo in the eye. She was staring at me intently. I felt like a small bird confronted by a snake. “Don’t you think it would be easier not to love him?” she asked.
“No,” I told her. “I love Jessie more than anything. I can’t imagine living without him.”
“But surely there are other young men,” she suggested. “Human young men who are better suited for you?” Her stare made the back of my head ache a little. I wanted to look away but found that I couldn’t.
I knew she wanted me to say yes. She was compelling me to say yes, that I preferred a human boy. But that wasn’t how I felt. “No,” I managed to spit out from my lips after a bit of struggle. “I’ve tried dating other boys; I’ve tried forgetting Jessie but it’s not good. I don’t know what I would do without him. I love Jessie.”