Serenity

Her Desires

Rose was pinched, pulled, and parted in every way. Losing her curves had become quite the thing, and now, her mother insisted on the perfect wedding trousseau. Madame Laurant stood Rose upon a pedestal box wearing just her stays and undergarments so that she could take every measurement needed.

''It is a pity that we lost the fabrics from Paris in the sinking,'' her mother was perched upon an upholstered chair, glaring over the fabrics now on offer, ''I am glad you have become less plump. It shall look far more flattering in white satin. No one wishes for that on their wedding day.''

''It was for no one's benefit...''

Madame Laurant pulled into Rose's waist, cinching it even closer with a pull of her tape measure. She almost disposed of her breakfast upon the French woman's delicate, expensive pumps.

''You have become far less plump. A man does not need that much weight around the hips. He just needs to know they are wide enough to birth their child. We are lucky you became engaged whilst carrying the extra weight; Cal shall know what will become of him when you are carrying his child.'' Ruth ended her sentence, breathing out as though she was stressed to Hell. ''About the bill, Madame Laurant should we...''

''Oui,'' Madame Laurant agreed; her fading French hurt Rose's fragile mind as she waved away Ruth's debate with a flourish of her wrist. "We do not discuss such crude matters before the bride-to-be.'' She turned to Rose. ''One shall look stunning.'' The modiste was, perhaps, in her late thirties, with dark colouring and pretty features. Her hair was always straight, pulled back to the point it almost cracked her entire face and created a sometimes stern appearance when, at times, she had been quite pleasant. ''Shall we be discussing the more, ahem, intimate designs today, Miss?''

Rose felt her cheeks simmer, and suddenly, she was more aware of what this meant than ever before. It meant that on her wedding night, after bathing in French soaps and perfumes, she would go to Cal wearing an appealing, revealing satin nightdress in her virginal state and awaken a maiden no more. Bile started in her throat, but she swallowed it down, glancing at her already slightly more slender figure in the mirror. Her breasts were swollen atop her stays, and she knew very much that was where Cal's attention seemed to lay. Her being very well-developed in that area seemed to attract him frequently. She would have to address the matter soon, and why not now, when her mind was pretty on the task?

''Mother, could you leave whilst Madam Laurant and I discuss such a matter discreetly?''

Ruth glanced up so sharply that her feathered hat tilted and almost left her head. ''Excuse me?''

Madame Laurant stepped down from the pedestal and dropped her tape measure at Rose's feet.

''Perhaps Miss Rose would be more comfortable doing this by herself. You may wait out at the front with refreshments or continue your shopping, ma'am and return shortly; I can assure you that your daughter shall be well looked after.''

Staring at herself in the mirror, and perhaps even beyond that, Ruth's reflection in the mirror was quite startled, and Rose could tell that she would be questioned in depth later. Still, she was happy to take a break from being beneath her mother's scrutinising eyes.

''Very well.''

Rose could only be grateful as the modiste led her mother away, reassuring her that everything would be tasteful before locking the door behind her. Her dark eyes roved across Rose's uncomfortable posture.

''You may relax now, Miss. I see my share of fettling mothers, and I dare say that they make my blood boil. A woman's personal and intimate items that she wishes to display for her husband on their wedding night and honeymoon should not first be displayed to their mother; it is vulgar if you ask me.''