✧༺ Hearts Of The Crown

𝑨 𝑫𝒆𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝑾𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

꒰ CECILY ꒱

"𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 Cecily!" A loud voice was heard from the main door of the castle. Aunt Matilda swiftly walked towards me, her countenance alight with anger.

I turned to look at Mary, hoping she might save me. Yet, I knew none could rescue me if Aunt Matilda was enraged.

"What do you think you are doing?" she demanded. "Where have you been?" she asked as she finally stood before me.

"I went to the town centre," I replied.

"Have you not heard what the physician said? Mary, you too. Why did you allow her to go?" Aunt Matilda screamed at Mary this time.

"My apologies-" "I am the one who insisted. Do not blame Mary," I interjected. "I felt much improved this morning and thought perhaps a breath of fresh air would do me good. It has been some time since I last visited the town."

"Well then, if you feel so much better, we shall commence your preparation for the season tomorrow," she declared. "Rest well today, my dear, for tomorrow shall be a long one," she said, opening her fan before me and departing with a mischievous grin.

We both let out a breath, relieved that we were safe this time. "That was not what I expected," I said to Mary.

"Indeed, but it is worth it," Mary replied with a wink, and we both laughed as we entered the castle.

Mary, to my surprise, had convinced Sir Aaron to assist us in obtaining the books. He stood alongside the other ladies for nearly an hour, waiting to have our books signed. Since we did not have our own books with us at the time, I instructed Mary to purchase new ones. Sir Aaron inquired what he might receive in return before Mary hastily ushered me into the carriage. I hoped Mary had not forgotten to reward him with gold, a matter I would discuss with her later.

𓆩♡♡♡♡𓆪

When Aunt Matilda informed me that today would be a long day, I anticipated a taxing schedule, but I did not expect the modiste to arrive at eight in the morning. Clad in my undergarments, I was seated upon a small stool in the centre of the room, feeling the cool air against my skin.

My heart raced with a blend of anticipation and trepidation as I awaited the arrival of Madame Chevalier, the renowned modiste. This day, she was to measure me for my debut gowns.

Aunt Matilda had already positioned herself in the room, her presence impossible to ignore. She stood near the fireplace, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized me with a critical gaze. Her fingers tapped impatiently upon the mantle, a subtle yet constant reminder of her ever-present disapproval.

The door creaked open, and Madame Chevalier swept into the room, her arms laden with fabric samples and measuring tapes. She was a petite woman with sharp eyes and an air of brisk efficiency.

"Good morrow, Your Highness," she greeted me with a polite curtsy before turning her attention to Aunt Matilda. "Princess Matilda."

Aunt Matilda inclined her head slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Ensure you do a thorough job, Madame Chevalier. We cannot afford any mistakes for such an important occasion."

"Of course, Princess Matilda," Madame Chevalier replied, unfazed by my aunt's stern demeanor.

I stood as Madame Chevalier approached me, her hands deftly moving to take my measurements. She murmured numbers to her assistant, who scribbled them down on a small notepad. I endeavoured to stand still, but Aunt Matilda's piercing gaze made it difficult.