Finding Felicity

Chapter Fourteen

^ I've already dedicated to her before, but she is an unfailingly loyal fan, so deserves another one!

Felicity was most certainly not in a fit state to see visitors when she heard the coaches rumbling down the driveway.

Amazingly, despite the sun beginning to sink into the horizon, Felicity had managed to stay in a state of comparative undress. She was wearing her “attic” clothes that she was allowed to dress in whenever no one would see her. Unfortunately though, a simple grey skirt and white blouse simply weren’t good enough for greeting the family of Grace’s future husband.

Felicity winced as she thought that. Why did she inflict such pain on herself?

Trying to get her mind off of Ethan and to calm her splintered nerves, she thought instead of Fred Willoughby. He was nice.

She was quickly brought back to reality with a thud as one of the coach doors was slammed shut. She muttered a few choice words she had learnt whilst in the company of young men at Cambridge and dashed down the stairs.

Thank the good Lord a maid was waiting in her bedroom. Oh, next to the detestable dress her mother had undoubtedly laid out for her. Yellow. With Grace’s wonderful, luscious chestnut locks one couldn’t hope for better. But with Felicity’s dusky blonde, haywire hair? Not quite right.

Any other day and any other person, Felicity would have resigned herself to the monstrosity of the pale yellow fabric. But this was Ethan. Even though she stood no chance what so ever, she simply couldn’t walk down the stairs in that. For once she cared about making a favourable impression.

“Where-is-Felicity?” Mrs Harrington hissed at a waiting maid.

She gulped. “Just getting ready, ma’am.”

“Useless girl!” Mrs Harrington spoke of her daughter, not the maid. She turned back around to face the party.

“Allow me to give you all a brief tour.” A large smile was painted on her face.

“Here, I want to wear this one.”

“But that’s not what your mother requested.”

“I am well aware.”

“Very well, miss.”

Jane set about dressing Felicity. Life was awfully complicated for women compared to men.

“Oof!” She did not remember corsets being this tight. She felt so utterly oppressed and enclosed and breathless, it brought tears to her eyes. The fashions of the time were not designed for a slight person like Felicity, with no bosom or hips or speak of. As such, her corset had to be tugged tighter and tighter just to give the illusion of a shapely body.

Both the bodice and the skirt were a pale, duck-egg blue, with cuffs of delicate, beautiful lace on the wrists and around the neck. The neckline was a high scoop, and lace covered the rest of her neck. She felt feminine, something she had never really experienced before.

Normally her mother would instruct Jane to insert a bust improver underneath the bodice. This time her mother hadn’t bothered, no doubt having written Felicity off, focusing all of her attention on Grace.

Felicity thanked and dismissed Jane and turned to examine herself in the mirror.

Her lack of curves meant she had never been able to achieve the desirable ‘s curve’ like Grace so easily could, but as she turned to look at herself in different lights and angles, Felicity, for the first time, did not feel a loathing for herself. Her waist was small, and there was a slight swell over her bosom. The skirt fell from the waist to her feet and swished around her ankles.