Second-Hand Dresses

Chapter 43: The Event

Around the budding youth of the virginal flower, the gardeners circle around as the flower's beauty reflects their own efforts.

—Magolan dea Kasin, Child, Offer Your Hand

Lily sipped on a glass of wine as she strolled through one of the many gardens of her former home, Manor Rose. Everywhere she looked, she felt a pang of sadness about leaving her form her. With her one hand, she traced along the delicately-shaped stone roses that marked the balconies before pausing to look at the giant statue of roses installed in the largest of the pools.

Her glass trembled as she took a deep breath. The pressure of her corset dug into her ribs and sides, reminding her that after tonight, she was officially no longer a bedame. She would be a kudame for the rest of her days, slowly shuffled off to the edges of High Society to serve those who followed.

"Care for refreshments, kudame?" It was a serving boy, one that Lily remembered holding as a baby. He didn't seem to recognize her despite the years going to the same parties.

"No, thank you."

"Yes, thank you," said Mindil as she swept up. With one casual hand, she snatched up two pieces and popped one into her mouth. She wore a beautiful flowered dress that emphasized her large breasts and large hips. It has been expertly adjusted so there was no strain on the stitching or buttons but it followed every curve of her body. The color, thanks to Lily, was perfectly matched to the rest of the party.

Mindil grinned and ate the other piece. "Oh, your mother's cooks were..." She stopped. "The cooks here are talented."

Feeling slightly ill, Lily could only nod.

"I'm sorry, Flower. I didn't mean to remind you."

"No, I should be used to it by now."

"Worried?"

Lily shrugged. She looked at the people around her. In the side garden, there were mostly younger members of High Society, in their twenties and thirties. She spotted a few debutantes in the center of circles of attention. The young girls had spent much of their lives training for nights like this and she could see it their forced grace and polite jokes.

She remembered when she was the same place. Being surrounded by attentive besires was exhilarating. Every time they laughed, her heart would beat faster in hope one of them would offer their hand. Even ten years later, she remembered the desperate longing she felt to make them smile one last time. She also remembered the thousand rules of etiquette that haunted her thoughts, not to mention weeks of posture and grace training.

And then came Hasan. He was handsome and attentive, more so than anyone else. There was no question he would submit a bid to Lily's father for her hand, but there was always a thrill when multiple suitors made an offer. In many ways, a bidding war was a woman's peak in High Society; Sarlin had almost a dozen men vying for her hand. Wealth and comfort followed her mother's life ever since.

At least until the fire.

With a sigh, she looked across the pool covered in golden roses to an empty spot on the far side. Before the fire, there was a gazebo there, surrounded by tall hedges and a perfect spot for the whispered conversations for a debutante wanting a few minutes to breath.

"You look upset," said Mindil. "What are you thinking about?"

Lily chuckled. "Hasan."

"Well, girl, you can't have him."

Lily looked over. Mindil was grinning.

"At least to yourself. We come as a pair and he isn't allowed to have a second wife. So, if you want to ride his cock—"