Curse of Rose de Winter

Chapter 16

That afternoon Dylan did held the door to my room open as Irene walked in with boxes adorned in bows and patterned with stripes and polka-dots.

I watched the two different faces, different in ethnicities but similar expressions to that of nobility. Dylan and his sharp cut face reminded me of Irene, and both had rather long eyes and eyelashes that slanted down to look like a curtain. While Irene moved mechanically to the point she seemed to be reading lines from a script, without talent, Dylan was more human. Unlike Vaughn, he fumbled and showed that he was pleased with a small smile.

"You're still smiling—you really are pleased you made Scarlett embarrassed," I said as I watched him. He composed himself before speaking.

"No, you need something, worthy of your title and to be part of upper society and the extravagant parties they throw."

"This is too excessive," I murmured. "I would've been fine with one evening gown."

"I am investing in you as Blanche. Think of it as my payment."

Those words echoed and something in me appeared, like a cold heart that froze my body and made my fingers numb. The boxes suddenly seemed like ones from women posing with artificial smiles in magazines, probably in those envious dresses. Once those presents from men were desired, but now I thought of the burden and strings that were attached, how present wasn't even a word for me—it was an investment.

I smiled wryly. "Such a cold answer. You could've said it was a present."

"The dresses aren't, and I don't make lying a hobby, but these are."

He had two small boxes piled in his arms from Julie. He nodded and thanked her as she left, closing the door. In the room only Dylan and Irene were left.

"Leave the room," I told Dylan, "I'm trying on the dresses." He placed the boxes down.

"You'll be wearing a nightslip. It shows just as much skin," Dylan said in the monotonous way he discussed business.

"No!" I hissed. "Leave!" He obediently opened the door and sighed.

Irene took off my green wool skirt and blouse. Instead she put a girdle on me, making me suck in my breath by holding my stomach in. I had my brassiere on as well as underwear, but she took off my nightslip and put on a dress, the folds opening to reveal red and black. I held in my feelings, or so it felt as I crushed my hands into a fist and gave an overused smile. Irene zipped it from behind me, fixed the shoulders, and then we allowed Dylan in.

"We finished, sir."

Dylan turned and he gave a nod as I turned left and right to showcase the dress like a model, avoiding eye contact.

We repeated the process, one dress was pink with little flowers. It made Irene hide a laugh because I looked like a doll, then there was another raspberry red dress, a tight pencil dress of grey, and two more of black. Finally Irene got me ready for my evening gowns.

The first one was royal blue and so long it dragged to the floor with my current heeled slippers. It fell off my shoulders and was extremely tight on my bosom. The skirt had a simple fold that made my legs slim, all things men desired. The next one was red, once again, but more burgundy, with a pleated skirt and tight bodice with two flowers for decoration.

"How do you like them, Blanche? You've been quiet," Dylan asked.

"I love all of them," I said as I ran my fingers over the satin dress. Once I'd only dreamed of wearing these dresses with fancy labels inside of some French name in cursive.

"If that really is the case I'm pleased—if you're sure." He watched me, and I thought of his acceptance for my identity. Why was I being so petty? He had gone so far to try and get me dresses I liked, hadn't he? "I don't know which ones you would like and I had the store attendants direct me as well as the maids, Irene chose the black ones, Julie the pink, and Gwendoline the blue one."