Thanks all for reading, feedback and voting. You guys are awesome. I will try and avoid the elaborate dress descriptions in future (*cough* Rumpole)
;) Hope you enjoy this one.
~I write for pleasure, I post for joy~
********
"Joel?" Sage peeked around the door at the old man muttering to a small, rather dishevelled plant.
"Yes, come in, Sage." Joel dusted the soil from his hands and stood. "Are you well, child?"
Once the initial differences between them were resolved, Sage forbade Joel from addressing her by title. The idea of an older man whom she befriended calling her 'my Lady' was too foreign for Sage to feel comfortable with. She understood in public matters he would have little choice, but in privacy, she refused it.
Sage cheerfully entered the room. "Yes, I was looking for Edmund."
Joel's eye twitched. "My Lord had to ride out. But it is better he is out of the way."
"Oh?" Sage asked, and Joel smiled.
"I believe a renowned tailor will arrive shortly."
"What for?"
"Your wedding gown, child. More dresses and, well, whatever else may take your fancy," Joel raised an encouraging eyebrow.
"But I already have clothes," Sage said with some confusion, looking down at her well-made, white servant's frock. "I don't want more."
"Sage!" Joel exclaimed. "The clothes you wear now are hardly suitable for a girl of your stature. It was just a matter of...well..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Whether you were to remain with us."
"Oh."
"And since you are here permanently, the matter must be dealt with."
"Why shouldn't Edmund be here? I think he would advise me-" Sage paused as Joel threw his arms up in protest.
"The last thing you need is the distraction of a love-addled young man!" Joel insisted, shaking his head. "Believe me, I learned the wisdom of this from his parents. The boy would circle you like a hound, and you'll be lucky to have more than half a dress by the end of it."
Sage giggled, before her attention came to the plant. "What is that?"
Joel sighed. "A failed cause."
Sage tilted her head. "I recognise that species. It needs water."
"Yes. I thought so, too," Joel dryly replied, looking sceptical as Sage went for the water jug. "There's no point-" he broke off, staring.
As Sage approached the plant, Joel was almost certain it arched toward her.
"Sage..." he said uncertainly. "I..."
"There!" she beamed. And indeed, the plant already bloomed several shades a healthier green. Placing the jug to Joel's bedside, she tilted her head at his shock. "What's wrong?"
"N-Nothing," Joel hastily replied. "Thank you."
Someone knocked, and Joel bade the two handmaids enter and pursed his lips at their tittering manner.
"My Lady; Joel," one bobbed her head, smiling widely. "The dressmaker has arrived."
Bowing low to Sage, the tailor was thrilled. The Lord's instructions were to spare no expense and from reputation Lord Bard rewarded good work handsomely. As one of the town's more prestigious tailors, he hoped to make fashion history with this unknown beauty.
Hours passed, and the man warmed to his task, directing his assistants with measurements, colours and materials. Cloths of gleaming blue satin, matte red silk, various furs and glimmering gold and silver circled Sage. All colours and textures of ribbons were skilfully threaded through her beautiful dark hair for approval. Delighted by his subject and assignment, the tailor could not recall the last time he had touched such lovely, shining dark locks, and it was a genuine pleasure.
A number of shoes were fitted to her feet, with Joel advising practical alterations and adjustments. Where most young ladies were eager to be stylish at any cost to their comfort, Sage was the opposite, and became quite rude when pressed to try a pair of black lace ankle-boots with particularly high heels studded with emeralds.
"My dear, at least try them! Any Lord would worship his lady in shoes such as these!" the dressmaker almost tearfully begged; his eyes wistfully set upon Sage's finely-shaped calves. It hardly mattered if she declined the shoes, he hoped to at least retain the delightful sight to memory. But he recoiled when Sage turned on him.
"Joel, might Edmund think less of me for not wearing pinching shoes?" she coldly queried, in a tone that suggested she wouldn't care if he did.
"Of course not, Sage," Joel dutifully replied. The rapt audience of handmaids collectively giggled.
"Then remove them from my sight," Sage bitingly ordered, with a fiery glare at the man crouched by her heels. "Before I throw them at you."
Joel suppressed a smile at Sage's behaviour. It was the closest she'd come to resembling a tempestuous noble so far. Though he had provided helpful guidance for quicker decisions, Sage had wearied of standing still for long periods of time and being directed to pose this way and that whilst balanced on a small stool. Her irritable boredom was quickly noticed by the tailor's assistants, who discreetly exchanged many glances throughout the process and wondered whether the antagonised lady had been forced into this match.
Sage was exhausted, and the initial glamour of the appointment quickly dissolved after the first three outfits, and now there were fifteen, not including the ones on order. In a side thought, Sage appreciated that Aleksis spared her many trials endured by noble women. Raised out of public scrutiny, she cared little for possessions or impressing others. She was thoroughly educated about gentlefolk, but only for the purpose of aptly blending in after Aleksis initiated her.
The dressmaker removed the offending shoes as directed, and after a moment's reflection wisely refrained from suggesting Sage try a different pair lined with rubies. Now there was piled an array of beautiful items for all occasions, and several additional parchments detailing styles, measurements and materials for shoes and other accessories to be made.
"And now," the man smiled, believing they reached a moment Sage was impatient for. "An unusual occasion for a lady to have full reign over the design of her wedding gown-"
"Well, I do, even if it offends your sense of propriety!" Sage snapped, finally reaching her limit after mistaking the poor man's playfulness for an insinuation.
"Sage," Joel wearily intervened. "Child, I can see you are very tired, but unless you want an old man to choose your bridal-"
"Oh!
Yes!" Sage exclaimed with a beaming smile, much to Joel's horror. "Joel,
you
shall choose!" At this, she happily stepped down from the stool and flounced from the room, leaving everyone staring after her with their mouths hanging open.
"Well." Mopping his brow, the dressmaker finally broke the stunned silence and not entirely unrelieved Sage was gone. It had certainly been a rare day's work for him in more ways than one. "Fortunately, we have her measurements. So, let us hope you are attuned to the Lord and erm...Lady's tastes."
********
Edmund patiently a waited full twenty minutes before being admitted to Lucille's drawing room. Waiting was not his habit, and he knew she was testing him. By the first ten minutes she would know he did not intend to storm her bedchamber as was their normal routine. The added ten minutes, Edmund supposed, was pure vindictiveness.
When he finally entered Lucille's quarters, she fluttered toward him with a big smile and held out her hands. "My Lord! Again, you have waited too long to see me."
Edmund dutifully kissed both slender hands and took a respectful step back. "Lucille, I hope you are well?"
"How else would I be?" she answered; her voice touched with coldness.
"You know why I am here," Edmund observed, his eyes hard. "But how? Nicholas always had a wagging tongue..."
"Or perhaps more integrity."
Edmund lip curled at the insult. "Lucille, I came to tell you myself."
Lucille laughed, but Edmund could tell she was hurting.
"I admit," she smiled. "It was quite a sting to have Stiles bear the news. No doubt a grand concoction among childhood cronies."
Edmund's fists clenched. "Lucille, you know I have little time for Nicholas. What you claim is impossible. I passed him on the way-"
"Oh, I received the charming news by a dispatched servant not five minutes before your arrival
.
" Lucille spoke flippantly, but her black eyes burned as she recalled the humiliatingly offensive gesture. "By appearances alone I'm sure the man rode like the wind to overtake you. So, a
lackey
was all I was worth?"
"Stop!" Edmund snarled. "I never intended for you to find out by any means other than my lips alone."
Tears silently dripped down Lucille's cheeks, but she shrugged carelessly. "I suppose you never considered me worthy of your name's honour?"
"Matrimony?" Edmund said blankly. His expression was answer enough, and Lucille waved a hand.
"Fret not, Edmund. I won't cause trouble. I will show my face at your ball, and ceremony. I will give others no reason to gossip over my absence."
There was no hatred in her voice, but her graceful features were drawn and pale. The experience of receiving such a rejection from a servant was as crushing as it was unforgivable. Edmund felt horrible but had nothing to say that might alleviate her pain. Lucille continued.
