Italian Summer

Chapter One

It is a warm night, summery and new. The villa looms gracefully in the distance, I begin to walk faster. My hopes of reaching the summer home before dark dashing away. At least people are beginning to light fires and lanterns, through the trees I can see the golden squares lighting themselves one by one in the windows of the house. I drop my little boots to the ground and begin to sort through my skirts. I manage to gather a large handful of the voluminous fabrics in my sash, which helps increase my mobility immensely. Now that I can walk without tripping on the gauzy layers my pace is quickened. I reach the crest of a hill and look down into the meadow, the villa less than a mile away. I quicken my pace even more and begin to jog towards the stately house.

 About 20 minutes later I'm in the backyard. I duck into the little gazebo and let out my skirts. I begin to buckle up my boots and straighten my hair. Once I am satisfied that my appearance is neat enough, other than the rings of mud and water along the hem of my skirt, I stroll daintily towards the front door. My mind begins to scroll through my wide catalogue of excuses. Perhaps I was birdwatching? Maybe picking flowers? But there wasn't even a blade of grass in my hands. A nature walk? Not too far from the truth. That would do, I hoped that dinner was still out. I glance towards the clock tower in the middle of town, 7:14. Perfect! It was much earlier than I had thought, and I had just the right amount of time to slip into the villa before I would be required to get ready for dinner. 

I slip in through a side door, my long skirts fluttering around my ankles as I dash through the halls. I spot a large tapestry, its fixed down on three of its sides, but I know it's secret. I find the tiny latch and pull the heavy fabric to the side. I slip into the stone passageway, its only a few feet wide, but it snakes around the villa walls. I jog through for a few minutes. I finally come across the narrow stone staircase the leads up to a removable wall panel in my dressing room. I run up as quickly as I can while tearing at the buttons on the back of my heavy gown. I slide the wall piece aside, it creaks loudly and I make a note to steal some oil from my father's garage later tonight. I slide the passage closed and inspect myself in the long oval-shaped mirror on the wall of the room. 

I'm in my favorite room in the house. A large vanity and matching stool sit against one wall, the hidden passage slat is next to the mirror on the back wall. On the wall next to the mirror, across from the vanity are the double doors to my closet. The wall across from the mirror is just the door to the main bedroom. 

In the mirror I see myself, slim and wind tousled. The floaty pink gown that I had donned this morning was seemingly worse for wear, with mud and water ringing the skirts and a long tear along the bottom. I have never felt hugely connected to this dress, it is a pale pink gown, with dozens of floaty layers of tulle skirt, I rather despise the bodice, it is high necked with large sleeves. I prefer any other fit. The dress could be easily repaired though, and I know that mud could be scrubbed out of even the daintiest of garments. I plop onto the stool and unbutton the boots, my feet free at last. They are little white heeled leather boots and they feel about three sizes too small, despite being tailored to my foot. I finish unbuttoning the horrid dress and shake it onto the floor, I step out of it and glance at my figure in the mirror, the corset making my body appear to have shape. I tear at the lacings and manage to loosen it enough to slip over my head. I suck in a deep breath and unpin my three petticoats. I shed the rest of my undergarments, grimacing at the red lines left on my body from the tight lacing of the corset. I fit a robe around my body and enter my bedroom. 

My stately bed looking warm and comfortable, but I must prepare for dinner. I enter my bathroom and scowl at the drawn bath, someone must have heard me enter the villa. I sigh and slip into the scorching water. I bathe and wash my hair. I hear a servant enter my room and I take deep breathes preparing to get made up. The next half an hour is full of powderpuff and hairpins as I am prepared for dinner with the mayor's family. 

My gown tonight is a pale blue, with a modest skirt and little gold embellishments on the layers of silk. The bodice is fitted like a corset, very tight, the neckline sweeps lower than most of my gowns. The sleeves are little clouds of tulle. Luckily I only have to wear heeled sandals, instead of boots. My head hurts with the pins and ribbons holding my hair into an elaborate updo. I mentally prepare myself to see the mayor's awful children.