11. Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
M rs. Montrose had decided to give Alice the silent treatment, and if her mother was attempting to deter her spirits, Alice had to confess it was working. She felt utterly wretched the entire day and into the next morning, making feeble attempts to smooth things over. But each overture went awry—her mother would inevitably catch sight of the rose pin and seem to vibrate with barely contained rage. And so Alice found herself adrift in the vast manor, unable to take part in the festivities as she wished.
She had complained of a sour stomach to avoid dinner, remaining in her chambers that evening while her mind whirled with dark thoughts. Not wishing to court further scandal, she took to wandering the halls of the manor instead of joining the planned morning events. Still, she could not help her curiosity as she passed the room where an animated game of charades was underway.
Alice allowed herself just a peek into the space, her eyes immediately drawn to the duke’s broad back as he acted out some dramatic scene. The other players called out guesses amid bursts of laughter, clearly delighting in his performance. She longed to stay and watch Elias in what seemed to be his element, but the memory of their last encounter was still too fresh, too mortifying.
Instead, she made her way out into the gardens. The weather had vacillated between thick clouds and bright sunshine. At present, steel-gray skies threatened rain—a boon to Alice, as it meant the dowager’s lavish grounds were deserted.
The gardens stretched out before her in perfectly manicured splendor. Gravel paths wound between elaborate topiary and beds overflowing with late-summer blooms. A hedge maze rose to her left, its walls thick with glossy leaves, while ahead a white gazebo perched on a small rise overlooking an artificial lake. The water’s surface rippled in the rising breeze, dark as smoke under the clouded sky.
Alice’s fingers traced the edge of her rose pin as she walked. The dowager’s expectations were clear, but how could she possibly navigate society without her mother’s guidance? She already teetered on the knife’s edge of ruin. One wrong step, one minor scandal, and she would cut herself beyond repair.
The crunch of feet on gravel interrupted her brooding. She turned to find Lady Fairfax approaching, one hand raised in greeting.
“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Miss Montrose. You were not in your rooms or with the others.” Lady Fairfax closed the distance between them, linking their arms together with sisterly warmth. The gesture brought Alice unexpected relief—perhaps Lady Fairfax might help her navigate mixed company, though she dared not ask such a favor.
“I apologize,” Alice said. “Ever since you spoke about the gardens, I have wished to see them for myself.”
Lady Fairfax’s gaze dropped to the rose pin, something flickering in her expression before vanishing just as quickly.
“It appears this is not the only Garden you have wandered into.”
“The Dowager Countess was ... unexpectedly kind,” Alice ventured carefully.
“Kind is not a word often associated with her,” Lady Fairfax said with a small laugh. “But she sees potential where others might not. You mustn’t let her intimidate you too thoroughly.”
“I confess, I hardly know what to think of it all.”
“They are all uncertain at first. But the Dowager Countess has a gift for seeing the truth in people—who they are beneath whatever veneer they keep.” Lady Fairfax squeezed her arm. “Come, I have something to show you.”
She guided Alice back into the house and up a curving staircase to a large chamber Alice had not seen before. Racks of magnificent gowns and rows of wooden drawers filled the room. A servant stood ready beside a changing screen, and the walls were lined with tall mirrors that caught the morning light.
Lady Fairfax gestured to encompass the space.
“Since the Dowager Countess wants you properly outfitted as soon as possible, I thought perhaps you might make use of some of my own dresses.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly?—”
“Nonsense. We are of a similar build, and many of these will simply go to waste, worn once or not at all.”
Alice twisted her hands together.
“There is no way I can ever repay you.”
“Do not worry,” Lady Fairfax’s eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief. “This means the dowager owes me a favor, and it is rare I get such an opportunity.”
Before Alice could respond, the door opened and the dowager herself swept in. Lady Fairfax moved to greet her with an effortless grace, though Alice detected an undercurrent of tension beneath their polite exchange.
Alice dropped into a curtsy as the dowager approached, studying her with critical eyes.
“Oh, lovely,” the dowager said. “You look utterly mediocre. That should make the transformation all the more sweet.”
Lady Fairfax shot Alice an apologetic look behind the dowager’s back, mouthing silent apologies.
“I saw that,” the dowager said dryly. “There are mirrors all over this room.”
Lady Fairfax pressed her lips together and awkwardly turned to the racks of clothing while the dowager took Alice’s arm, steering her toward one of the gleaming mirrors. Alice studied her reflection, wondering if “mediocre” had been too kind. She looked lanky and awkward, her skin blotchy and pale, as though a strong wind might topple her at any moment. Her hair hung limp and lackluster. They would need nothing short of divine intervention.
“Now, let us see what we can do with our Lady Rose.”
What followed was a whirlwind of silk, muslin, and lace. Dress after dress was brought forth for inspection—emerald green, sapphire blue, soft lilac, deep crimson. The dowager rejected most with a wave of her hand, though some warranted closer examination. While Lady Fairfax’s gowns fit well enough in the arms, she was taller than Alice, necessitating countless pins that pricked and scraped as the servant made adjustments.
Alice tried not to yelp each time a pin found flesh, determined to bear it with grace. Her head spun with the parade of different fabrics and styles until, finally, the dowager’s eyes lit up at a particular gown in the palest pink.
“Yes, do you not think it fitting that Lady Rose should wear a rose-colored dress?”
“It is thematically appropriate,” Lady Fairfax agreed.
“What do you think, Miss Montrose?”
Alice blinked at her reflection. The gown was exquisite—silk the color of dawn with delicate lace trim at the neckline and sleeves, tiny pearls scattered like morning dew across the bodice. The skirts fell in graceful folds, swishing pleasantly when she moved.
“I do not believe I deserve this dress, nor am I fitting for any of them.”
“Pshaw, we’ll go with this one. Martha, you may make the proper adjustments on this, the lilac-colored gown, and the one with the ivy motif.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But before you do, we must complete the transformation,” the dowager announced, studying Alice in the mirror.
She clapped her hands sharply, and more servants entered, including a wide-eyed Miss Eastridge, who looked as bewildered as Alice felt. The maid’s expression clearly asked, ‘What in heaven’s name is going on here?’
A servant produced a wooden box, revealing an array of powders, glass bottles, and elaborate headpieces.
“We will teach your lady’s maid everything she needs to know about turning your face into a work of art. Now, begin.”
If Alice had felt like a pincushion before, she now felt like a canvas. The servants covered her face with every potion and powder at their disposal, the head servant carefully instructing Miss Eastridge in their proper application. To Alice’s surprise, her maid showed no resistance to extra duties. Instead, she seemed genuinely eager to learn, as though seeing this as an opportunity rather than a burden. If her overworked maid could view the situation so positively, Alice determined she must do the same.
They moved on to her hair, Lady Fairfax presenting various pins and decorations for the dowager’s approval. The piece they selected matched her rose pin perfectly—fabric flowers interwoven with pearls. Alice’s breath caught as she held it, afraid she might somehow damage its delicate beauty.
“It is beautiful,” she whispered.
“Let us see it on you,” the dowager commanded.
After what felt like hours of tugging, pinning, and adjusting, Alice was guided to the mirrors for a final inspection. The woman who looked back was a stranger. Her skin appeared soft and even, with just the right touch of pink in her cheeks. The cosmetics had been applied with such skill that she appeared to have been born with such perfection. Her hair was braided and coiled into an elegant updo, crowned with the rose hairpiece. The pink gown flowed to the floor like water, the lace catching the light.
She looked almost as if she belonged in such finery.
It was, of course, a lie.
Lady Fairfax and the dowager appeared on either side of her, all three women studying their reflection.
“Now there we are,” said the dowager. “It is a start. What say you, Lady Fairfax?”
“I certainly think your rose is starting to bloom.”
“I will send all the supplies to your room for use throughout your stay. The dresses may take some time, but I believe we should have this one ready by tonight.” The dowager’s eyes narrowed. “I noticed you did not join the festivities?—”
“My mother was not in such a good mood.”
“And what did I say about involving your mother in this?”
“I need a chaperone?—”
The dowager raised her hand.
“We will see to it that you are properly watched over.”
“You need only ask, and I will accompany you,” Lady Fairfax added, touching Alice’s arm with warmth.
Alice’s heart leaped at the offer—exactly what she had hoped for, but dared not request.
“I will expect to see you at luncheon today,” the dowager said, “and the croquet tourney following. It shall be a jolly time.”
With that declaration, she nodded to the seamstress to remove the gown for alterations. The dowager and Lady Fairfax took their leave, though not before the older woman whispered something that made Lady Fairfax’s spine stiffen slightly. The door closed behind them with a decisive click, leaving Alice to wonder what she had gotten herself into—and whether her transformation could ever be more than skin deep.