Chapter Ten - The First Salon #3
“I don’t see why we’re treating it like a foregone conclusion,” said Lavinia, looking directly at Rosamund, “perhaps he’ll change his mind.”
Seraphine turned her glare on Lavinia, “The Betrothal Ceremony is a sacred tradition Lavinia, to break from such a thing is to dishonour Liathern. To even suggest such a thing!”
Lavinia shrugged, taking a long sip of her drink, “He might though.”
Celeste held up a hand which immediately silenced the two women. Through her own terror and humiliation, even Rosamund could respect the way the woman commanded the room. There was clearly a hierarchy here, and Celeste sat at the top.
“We of course must discuss the design of the dress, something modest I think,” said Celeste, her eyes roaming over Rosamund as if she was sizing her up herself.
Clearing her throat, Rosamund began to say, “I was thinking maybe-”
“No hoop skirt I think,” said Seraphine, ignoring Rosamund and turning to Celeste, “though I suppose it would conceal those hips.”
Rosamund fought the urge to look down at her waist, “I’m not sure-”
“Nothing too clingy though,” said Lavinia.
“Well yes, we don’t want another one like yours, do we?” said Isolde with uncharacteristic sharpness.
Lavinia blew her a kiss, “Jealous?”
Isolde rolled her eyes, “Perhaps a floral embroidery?”
The conversation continued between the Princesses, but it was apparent to Rosamund that her opinion was not needed nor required.
She was starting to wonder why they had even asked her to come along.
It was clear these wedding preparations were to be handled by the royal wives, she was merely their doll to dress.
Celeste, Seraphine and Isolde led the conversation with snide interjections from Lavinia.
They eventually moved on from designing their preferred dress for her, to how the High Temple should be decorated.
All the while Rosamund grew more frustrated, until eventually she stopped trying to speak and fell into silence.
Allowing the conversation to wash over her she noticed that Marianne also did not say much.
The princess was younger than her, though with the Elixir it was difficult to tell.
She sat and picked at nails that were already bitten down.
When Marianne caught her looking, the brunette quickly shoved her hands under her dress.
Rosamund looked away to see Elswyth, in turn, watching her.
She had also not contributed to the wedding planning, which Rosamund thought surprising given her position in the hierarchy amongst the women.
Elswyth raised her eyebrows and with a growing anxiety Rosamund realised she was not the only one looking at her expectantly. They all were.
“S-sorry?” she stuttered, she had lost track of the conversation.
Celeste frowned in that confused way Rosamund was beginning to understand meant that she was disappointed, “Would you stand for us Lady Rosamund, there is some debate on the length of the train.”
With reluctance, she rose to her feet. Celeste then gestured for her to walk towards her, which Rosamund did, conscious of all eyes on her. Once she had reached Celeste the woman raised a hand to halt her, “Yes, you may be right, perhaps a length less given her height.”
“You are very short,” said Lavinia rising to her feet, crossing to stand beside her where she could measure her height against herself.
Rosamund only glared and turned to head back to her chair when again Celeste raised a hand to halt her, though rather than tell her why she leaned to Seraphine, “Perhaps we can create the height though Sera. There is a cobbler in Larkhill that I hear is doing wonderful things with platformed shoes.”
Seraphine considered this whilst Rosamund stood, fixing her gaze at a point on the wall rather than look at Lavinia’s sneer.
Unhappy that her taunting was having no effect, she returned to her seat.
Though not before her sharp bony hip nudged into Rosamund causing her to stumble.
As she did, Rosamund lost her grip on her goblet.
With horror, Rosamund could do nothing to stop the wine tumbling towards Celeste and Seraphine, the merlot splattering across the gold and white of their respective dresses.
“I’m so sorry, let me help-” Rosamund rushed forward to wipe away at the stain, even reaching for a napkin that one of the flurry of servants had produced.
“I think you have done quite enough,” said Seraphine firmly as she snatched another napkin from a nearby servant.
Celeste did not look at her. Retaining her composure, she rose to her feet, “I think we are finished for the day ladies. Thank you for attending. I wish you a pleasant journey home.”
With that she gracefully left the room accompanied by a flurry of servants who were equal parts trying to dry her dress and open doors for her.
The rest of the women turned to Rosamund, Lavinia with a pleased, sly grin on her face.
Seraphine was the first to speak, “It is my recommendation, Lady Valehart, that you acquire some tutelage in how things are done around here. Until then, I suggest you keep out of our way.”
She stormed from the room. Marianne also fled, snatching her cloak from a servant that ran after her with it. Lavinia finished the contents of her glass and winking at Rosamund, sashayed past her, ensuring her shoulder knocked Rosamund as she did so, “Until next time, imp.”
Her eyes began to sting, and she dug her nails into her palm. Isolde took a couple of steps towards her, bit her lip and left the room. The tears began to flow and even as Elswyth approached her she could not bring herself to look at the woman.
“Do you remember what I told you,” she asked softly.
Never let them see you cry.
Rosamund reached up and furiously wiped at her eyes, turned on her heel and left the other woman alone in the room.
She did not want her pity; she did not care for her advice.
Once again, these people had done nothing but humiliate her.
Even Isolde, who had been kind and welcoming, had at the last, abandoned her.
Elswyth would only do the same. She continued to wipe angrily at her eyes as she made her way down the corridor and down the golden steps towards the now familiar jet-black carriage.
Tomas held the door open for her and she brushed past him, ignoring his outstretched hand to help her into the carriage. When he closed the door, she fell apart completely.