Protégée

four.

Bernadette LaVille is, perhaps, the most eccentric woman I have ever made acquaintance with. Her hair is the color of tiger lilies, wound up in ringlets so tight I'm not sure they're authentic. She's older, maybe fifty or so, and carries herself as the Grand Dame. Today, she wears a dress in dark green, trimmed with some type of pepper-colored fur. Her hat is tiny and pointy with an enormous peacock feather poking out of the back.

"Hell-ooo," she calls, her lips looking like someone squished them tightly. She opens the door for herself. She takes her hat off and gives it to me, assuming I'm a servant girl. "Is anyone home?"

Kassandra comes down the stairs. "My love, it has been much too long." They air-kiss each other on each cheek, a common gesture for the upper-class. "Do you have the dress?" 

"It's in the towncar. I'm having my boy bring it in," she replies. She then spots me, still sitting, not having done away with her hat. "Is your servant girl deaf?" She whispers to Kassandra. 

Kassandra's eyes widen. "Oh, oh, no, that's not our servant girl. Finch, this is Madame Bernadette LaVille, your own personal designer. Berna -- your muse."

"How do you do, Madame?" I extend a hand sheepishly. 

Bernadette shakes my hand, then circles me inspectingly. "My God, Kassandra, you'd think you don't give the girls food here. She's a twig." Suddenly, she grabs my chin and squints her eyes, as I try to avoid them. "She does have a pretty face, I suppose - but there is much to be done about that chest - I suppose I could... and then... I could always..."

Her sentences trail off as she brainstorms aloud. My eyes dart to Kassandra, who give me a stern look. Though her mouth doesn't move, I know what she says. Comply with Bernadette. Go to great lengths to please her. Keep her on our good side. 

Bernadette snaps as that very moment, taking me into her arms. She grins widely - as widely as her tightly cinched lips will stretch. "She'll do, Kassandra. I know what I can do - show me to her room." 

-

"I tailored the dress for someone of a healthier stature, but, with the team with me, I'm sure she'll look radiant in everything I have to give her," Bernadette explains, walking quickly through the hallways. Her team has now joined us from a separate towncar - Anton, Jacqui, and Willa - all professional tailors and seamstresses. They all hold bags and bags of garments as they tread furiously behind us. 

When we reach my room, someone closes the door, and Bernadette finds her way to my boudoir. Immediately she gets to work, telling me to undress, slip on this dress, get on the platform. 

The first is a gown the color of white, with a high waist signified by a thick lavender ribbon, tied tightly in the back but with the ends of the ribbon falling far below me. The sleeves are off the shoulder and the neckline is straight, a lavender ribbon wound many times across my shoulders, sealed with a fake flower. The skirt is lovely and youthful looking, in my opinion. It's not dramatic, but it does puff out and resembles a bell, of sorts. The bodice is tight and restricts much movement from my upper half. "You'll get used to it," Kassandra says, sensing my anguish. 

The next is a simple dress that leaves my torso free, and, although it does not fan out like the other dress, it does not hug my body restrictingly. This dress is a light green and has white detailing. More flowers. 

"We're keeping colors that remind the audience of your youth," Bernadette mentions, still concentrating on how to make the dresses fit less loosely on me. "We're going to be using a lot of creams, off-whites, lavenders... rose, light green, yellow, baby blue and periwinkle. No stark whites, and no blacks or greys of any kind. No dark colors." She has me stepping in and out of pointy-toed slippers. "No heels just yet, only small ones," she explains later. "And expect lots of bows, lots of ribbons, and an overwhelming collection of flowers." 

For once, she stops and looks around the spacious closet. "It seems you already have many clothes here," she realizes. "Well, looks like you'll be getting that many more." She throws her head back and laughs wildly. 

The entire afternoon, I smile, I nod, I stand and sit and have pins stuck in and out of me, clothes slipped on and off of me, ribbons tied and cut off of my body.

I realize that this is my life now. 

- 

When Bernadette leaves, Kassandra takes my arm and sits me down on the largest sofa in the White Room. "What did you think?" Kassandra asks anxiously. 

"I think that I'm going to enjoy it here."