Chapter 8
Chapter eight
It was three weeks later and the day of the derby at Netherfield. Selaide had outdone herself in constructing the costume of the masked rider. She presented her creation to Valeraine in the morning with a gleam in her eye, hanging on her older sister’s reaction.
The mask was paper-mache, something Merna had constructed for a masquerade years before.
The mask would cover Valeraine’s entire face, leaving only her eyes peeking out through the holes, and be tied on with a green ribbon.
Selaide had painted it a dramatic black, with green ivy designs along the rim and around the eyes.
It was truly beautiful, both fierce and a work of art.
It would attract attention — that was certain — but would also fully conceal Valeraine’s identity.
Selaide tied the mask on her sister, waiting for the praise she was due.
“Thank you, it’s perfect,” Valeraine murmured, distracted.
It would hide her face, but what if someone uncovered the ruse?
Could she take that risk? She could already imagine how Mamma would react to discovering her racing: horrified, vexed, furious.
As she rightly should be. The reaction from the dragoneers present would be worse, as they would carry tales of it across the kingdom, reducing Valeraine’s reputation to tatters.
She would never be able to marry, or even work as a governess.
Papa certainly wouldn’t allow her to care for Lelantos anymore.
Her future would be one of dull begging for charity from her sisters, assuming any of them found income in the wake of the scandal.
“The mask is perfect,” Selaide said, “Thank you for noticing.” She turned away from Valeraine pointedly, expressing her displeasure at the minimal praise.
They were sequestered in Valeraine’s bedroom, and Selaide had come prepared with her burlap bag of tricks.
Next, she pulled out short stays which she had modified and padded to give a masculine shape to Valeraine’s torso.
Next went on a shirt and trousers from Kesley.
Now that Selaide had her way with them, they fit Valeraine’s padded form well.
The sisters reviewed the effect of the costume in the tall mirror hung on the wall. Trousers. Padded torso, hidden under a shirt. Mask affixed. Valeraine was transformed, someone new. Not herself, and not quite Kesley either. She was the dragon rider of Longbourn house.
It was uncanny.
“You really have done spectacularly,” Valeraine said. “How did you achieve the fit?”
Selaide preened. “I recruited Kesley to model, and had him stand next to the dress form. I tinkered with the padding until they had the same silhouette.”
“And the green,” Valeraine said, touching the ribbon at her temple.
“To match Lelantos.” Selaide took her hands. “I’m so glad you’re riding for us. Kesley really wouldn’t have a chance of winning. With you, we’ll have just the sort of attention that we need.”
“As if you need help getting attention.”
“The dragoneers look at me at the ball, but they don’t seriously consider me as a prospective bride. (Or only the poor ones do, but they’re useless.) Longbourn will fly in a few derbies — and then they’ll pay heed when I flirt.”
All Valeraine needed to do was race and do well.
Or not catastrophically fail. The honor of Longbourn would be defended, Selaide would get her attention, Miss Nedine would see the strength of Lelantos, and everyone would realize what capable dragoneers came from Longbourn.
The name of Longbourn house would have consequence, and give them the leverage to make a good business deal.
Making a deal with the Nethenabbis might be their only chance to save their house. If they didn’t get an egg, then Longbourn would die along with Lelantos. The house would wither, until one day they were just farmers. Farmers for Netherfield, most likely.
The risk was worth the reward. She must race, and this costume would do well enough for that.
Selaide was critical of the ensemble. She tugged this way and that at the padding.
“We’ll need to take in more here, and add some here…
” Without consulting Valeraine, she began taking off the shirt to get at the stays, determined to make the alterations immediately.
“We will also need to braid your hair like Kesley’s. ”
Valeraine surrendered to her younger sister’s scheming. Within an hour, the costume was fixed to her high standards.
Selaide clapped her hands. “You are the picture of a dragoneer. They will sing ballads of you.”
“Of Lelantos, the oldest dragon to ever live, so brave and strong.” Valeraine said.
“Of course. And of his daring rider, shrouded in mystery with the handsome mask and dashing mien.” Selaide handed the empty burlap sack to Valeraine.
“You and Kesley should report to the derby grounds soon. I’m off to prepare myself for the ball.
I think I’ll wear that new cream gown, with the lace.
” Selaide delivered this announcement as if it were idle speculation, of little note.
She said it as if it were not a betrayal, a sly backstabbing.
“The elegant cream gown that was tailored for me? For this very event? The one that arrived only three days ago?” Valeraine could hardly believe Selaide’s gall.
“I have given you your outfit, so it is only fair that you will provide mine.”
“Will I wear this to the ball, then?” Valeraine stiffly gestured to the costume.
Selaide’s face broke, as if she were about to cry. “Val, you’re being unfair. How can you treat me so, after all that I have done for you?”
“How could you think to get away with blatant stealing?”
“After I’ve worked so hard on the alterations for you…” Selaide bemoaned.
“We do this for Longbourn. When I ride, I’m riding for the house. You should be proud to contribute.” Valeraine grasped for something — anything — to distract Selaide from this. She didn’t want to get in a fight. “Mamma has also chosen a new gown for you, hasn’t she?”
“It’s Merna’s old dress! It is hideous.” The imminent tears were gone, quick as that, replaced by nebby disgust. “Just the memory of her in that dress has tainted it. I will be repellent to all who look at me.”
“No-one remembers what Merna wears, anyway. You will be repellent based on your personality alone, I am sure,” Valeraine said.
“The gown is haunted by Merna’s miasma! She will never marry, and now the whole garment has been cursed with spinsterhood. You cannot be so heartless to make me wear it.”
Valeraine stepped toward Selaide, menacing her with a superior five inches of height. “You mind your tongue. Merna is much cleverer than you, and will land a practical husband long before your frivolous flirting does.”
“And you will never marry, as everyone can see how vile you are. Not even winning a derby will change how ugly you are, inside and out.” Selaide retreated from the room.
“Don’t touch my dress!” Valeraine called after her. She couldn’t chase her into the halls wearing the costume, but oh how she wanted to.
Valeraine took off the costume, put it in the burlap sack, and donned her typical riding skirts.
In a few hours, she would meet Kesley in the nest, and they would fly to Netherfield together.
She could transform herself into the masked rider in the woods outside Netherfield manor, and none would be the wiser that she was not Kesley. She hoped.
She hugged the sack to her chest. The costume truly was superb, even if it was made by Selaide.