First, there was a shift, which was the nightgown. Trimmed with lace, it had a drawstring at the neck and one at each elbow. Second, silk stockings were put on the feet, held up with ribbon-like garters tied just above the knees. Katie’s socks were knit, not silk. Perhaps the difference indicated a step in social ranking. Next, was the corset. I knew that corsets—or stays, as they were sometimes called—were mainly used to support the body and remind one of good posture, but all I could think about was the horror stories of women who cinched their waists so tight that their uteruses started to fall out.
Truly! I read about it in a book.
Eventually people got smart and realized that God made women’s bodies the way they were for a reason. So, thankfully corsets became extinct. But for now, they were shouting at me loud and clear as Katie tightened one around my waist. Without the series of yet-to-be-invented hooks on the back of the corset, Katie had to lace up the back, and it took quite a while.
No wonder everyone had a chambermaid back then. It would be almost impossible to dress yourself!
For a long time I just stood there, wondering what all the fuss was about. But when the corset began to close around my figure, things started to happen. I became aware of the sturdy fabric surrounding me on all sides. The tough bones pressed into my skin and held me stiff.
I gasped.
“Is it too tight?” Katie asked.
“A little.” It just feels like I’m going to suffocate, that’s all.
Katie finished the laces while I concentrated on my breathing. It wasn’t so bad if I held still. And never moved. Not ever again.
The one good thing about the corset was its equivalent to the modern Miracle Bra. It was a tummy tucker, spine corrector, and push-up bra—all in one.
Take that, Victoria’s Secret!
Katie walked to the nearest wardrobe and soon returned, holding a pair of shoes. Each was fastened with a buckle and slightly elevated by a heel. “I hope these are your size.”
I sat awkwardly on the bed and tried to bend down to slip on the shoes. The corset allowed me to move maybe two inches. Yeah, that’s not going to work.
Katie cleared her throat. “Miss Brinlee, let me help you.”
Clearly, I had to accept. But I wasn’t accustomed to having someone serve me, so I felt a bit uncomfortable watching Katie put my shoes on my feet.
After she fastened the second shoe, I stood and found the sturdy footwear quite comfortable.
Katie placed a wrap with a little pocket around my waist. “Here is where you will store your knitting items,” she said
Sure, I knit—not.
Then, glory to all, Katie showed me my dress. It was a soft, beautiful green gown with a full skirt and elbow-length sleeves. But before I could put on the dress, there were the petticoats. Two. Since the dress had an open front, it needed one petticoat to fill the gap and another underneath to puff up the skirt. A stomacher, a triangle-shaped piece of fabric, held the front of the dress together with laces.
You’d think I’d be done by now, but Katie was still pulling things out of closets and drawers. She told me there was another hoop petticoat that women of gentry wore on special occasions or when visiting town. She set one out for me in case I needed it later.
Another petticoat? Were these people crazy? I know, let’s make women’s lives even more uncomfortable and make them walk with not only two fluffy petticoats but three—that’d be fun. Oh, and let’s make one of them hooped. Brilliant!
Katie put a white neckerchief around the collar of my dress and an apron around my waist. But when she offered me a cap, I said, “Do not put that on my head. Can I just leave my hair down?” A girl’s got to draw the line somewhere.
“The cap will protect your hair from dust and dirt,” Katie said.
“That’s all right. I’ll take my chances with the dust and dirt.”
“Very well, but you’ll need your cap and hat when you leave the house. I’ll set one on your bed.”
When I was finally dressed, I dared to look at myself in the mirror. What I saw took my breath away. For once in my life, I felt fabulous, even magnificent. I was staring at the fulfillment of my longtime wish to be somebody else.
“Miss Gabriella made the dress herself,” Katie said from behind me, peeking over my shoulder at my reflection.
“It’s beautiful.”
It really was amazing. I felt like a princess. One day in this place wouldn’t be so bad. Would it?
I moved my tongue around my chalky mouth. “I need to clean my teeth. Is that possible?”
“Of course. The instruments are right over there.” Katie motioned toward the table by the chamber pot. “There’s a fresh block of chalk, along with birch twigs and salt.”
“Thank you.” Wait—what did she say?
“I’ll let you finish.” Katie turned to leave. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you to the kitchen so you can get some food.”
“Thank you, Katie.”
When she left, I walked over to the table and looked at the dental hygiene supplies. I placed some salt and chalk on a birch twig and began to brush. Somebody’s got to teach these people some modern tricks, I thought. Maybe I could invent toothpaste in this world and become rich. Or become the new Mark Zuckerberg.
But first I needed to learn how to breathe in this corset. Then I’d think about ruling the social-media world.
Chapter 5
Another Cause of My Cinderella Obsession—
The Soundtrack to The Slipper and the Rose
Suddenly, suddenly it happens and the dream comes true
Wonderfully, beautifully it happens and your world is new
Magically, you’re holding the golden prize
Mystically, your castles begin to rise.
(“Suddenly It Happens,” Image Entertainment [Chatfield, CA: 1976])
The Next Day
When I woke the next morning in Cinderella’s room in Sherwood Manor, it took only a few seconds to realize where I was. I decided to pretend this experience was an episode of the Twilight Zone—a plot with no explanation and just an experience to watch and enjoy.
Last night, after I ate dinner in the kitchen and banged on the mystery door a couple more times, Rose (the nice stepsister) found me and invited me to accompany Fanny and her to town today. Rose clapped her hands and said, “It will be so much fun. We’ll visit the milliner’s shop for new gowns for the ball.”
I grinned at her animation. “That sounds wonderful.” Which was the truth. I was excited to see a real dressmaker’s shop, as well as the kingdom of Fenmore Falls. Anticipating the forthcoming ball wouldn’t be so bad either.
Katie helped me prepare by following the same long ritual as the day before, but this time dressing me in a purple gown. She gave me a hat decorated with flowers to wear over my cap, and a purple fan that matched the dress. Since I was visiting town, I had to wear the third petticoat—and feel completely like an idiot, with my dress swinging like a bell.
After a light breakfast in the dining room, I followed Rose and Fanny to our transportation at the front of the house. My eyes went wide as I climbed into an honest-to-goodness, prehistoric, horse-drawn carriage.
Even though I understood the evolution of the vehicle, I was still surprised at the discomfort and slow pace of eighteenth-century transportation. This trip was going to take forever. In a car we could probably get to town in ten minutes via the freeway, but in this carriage it was going to take a couple of hours on uneven and rutted roads.
Imitating Fanny and Rose, I crossed my ankles and placed my hands in my lap. After a while, numbness crept into my butt cheeks. The carriage was squeaky and smelly, to boot, and even though it was a covered coach, the sides were open and exposed to the environment. Meaning, dirt and dust. I w
as grateful Katie had demanded I wear a cap and hat to protect my hair.
To distract myself from the uncomfortable ride, I looked at the beautiful countryside as we passed. This time, since I was not running in my purple slippers, I could enjoy Fenmore Falls’ scenery. Sherwood Manor was surrounded by green, rolling hills, framed by an outlying forest. The carriage continued along the road until we passed the pond I’d seen the day before. Soon, we entered the depths of the forest. With my view obstructed by the thick trees, I listened to the birds.
Gabriella’s stepsisters and I spoke only a few times during the journey. After what seemed like five hours but was probably only twenty minutes, the carriage halted.
Rose leaned over her sister to peek out the window. “Why are we stopping?”
“Probably an animal on the road,” Fanny answered.
When nothing happened for a few more minutes, I peeked out the window to see for myself. I didn’t see an animal. But I did see something . . . uh, someone.
Crap! It was Black Rider, the beautiful, brown-eyed bandit from the day before. And oh, did he look even more handsome today.
Crap! I thought again.
Brinlee, get a grip.
I pulled my head into the carriage so he wouldn’t see me. He was talking to the driver of our carriage. What did he want? Oh please, oh please, I hope he’s just asking for directions and not stealing from the rich to give to the poor.
“What’s going on out there?” Rose asked me.
“Someone’s talking to the driver.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.” I couldn’t let on that I knew Black Rider. There could be a ransom out for his arrest, or something like that.
Fanny huffed. “We don’t have time for this.” She scooted to the window and peered out. “Henry, move on,” she ordered the driver.
Black Rider approached the carriage and said, “Milady.”
I ducked my head and played with a ruffle of my dress. I could not, would not, make eye contact with him. If he didn’t recognize me, the stepsisters would never know he and I had met.
“Please pardon me for delaying your journey,” he said. As he came nearer, he must’ve seen Rose and me, because he added, “Ladies, what a treat to greet all of you on this road this morning.”
Fanny spoke up. “Please, let us pass.”
“I would love nothing more than to let you fine ladies pass, but I’m afraid that is not possible at the moment.”
“Why?” Fanny exclaimed. “Let us pass!” At her shout, three more men slithered from the forest like snakes to surround our carriage.
This is bad, this is really bad.
“What is the meaning of this?” she asked.
I could feel Black Rider’s eyes on me as he poked his head inside our carriage. “You will be on your way as soon as we take care of a small matter of business with your driver.”
“What need do you have with our driver?” she asked.
Black Rider did not answer. Was he waiting for me to look at him?
Don’t look up, don’t look up, I told myself. I continued to focus on the stitching of my dress, as if it was the most astonishing thing in the world.
“Are you the ladies from Sherwood Manor?” Black Rider asked suddenly.
Crap! Double crap! He knew. The only way he would’ve been able to identify three random females on a well-populated road was if he recognized me.
“Yes, we are,” Fanny replied. “And you should know that your action will not be tolerated. My mother will have you reported.”
His laugh was low and alluring. “I’m sure she will.”
He was quiet again, waiting. Why wouldn’t he just leave?
“How much longer will we be detained?” Fanny asked.
“Not much longer.” He stepped away from the carriage, walked to the front of the carriage, and spoke to the driver.
“This is criminal,” Fanny complained.
Rose finally spoke. “What are we going to do?”
“If we get out of this—” Fanny was interrupted by a cry from Rose. “When we get out of this,” Fanny continued, “it has to be reported. I don’t care what Black Rider has done or says he’s done, he does not frighten me. This is unlawful—holding women hostage like savages.”
I was curious. “What has Black Rider done?”
“Nothing any other bandit hasn’t done,” Fanny said.
My mind reeled. What kind of criminal was Black Rider? What if he really was the bad kind? But didn’t he save me from that awful chubby man named Isaac and deliver me back to Sherwood Manor? But what if he had an ulterior motive? What if he was visiting Sherwood Manor to visit one of his associates? What if one of the employees at Sherwood Manor worked for him and was hoarding valuables? What if . . .?
I looked out the window—just barely, out of the corner of my eye. Black Rider stared right back and winked.
This time when I cursed in my mind, it wasn’t the nice word.
He came back to the window. “I need one of you ladies to step out of the carriage with me for a moment.”
Fanny gasped. “We will do no such thing.”
“I am only in need of a witness,” he explained. “Someone impartial to the situation at hand.”
Fanny folded her arms to show her defiance. Rose just squirmed in her place.
“You.” Even with my eyes cast down, I knew Black Rider was talking to me. “Come with me,” he ordered.
Did I have a choice? I looked at Fanny for guidance. Obviously not caring about my fate, she shrugged her shoulders.
“Please come,” Black Rider said. “We will only be a moment.”
I looked at him at last, which I knew would be a mistake. With the top of his face still masked by a black cloth, his eyes smiled at me with such intensity that it was hard to breathe, let alone get out of the carriage.
Once I was out, he grabbed my elbow and moved me toward the front of the carriage. “You are looking well, Miss Brinlee.”
He remembered my name, I gushed silently. Wait, Brinlee, he’s the bad guy. Don’t lose focus. “Thank you,” I muttered.
“You look much different than you did the last time we met,” he teased. “You didn’t have to clean up just for me.”
And there it was—the male-chauvinist-pig attitude. Did it exist in every era? Did it ever not exist?
When we neared the front of the carriage, Black Rider did not stop to continue his talk with the driver but led me toward the trees.
“Where are you taking me?” I began to feel frightened.
“Just far enough so we can be private.”
Far enough so no one can see you kill me?
“Here.” He stopped behind a large tree. “This will have to do.”
I looked around nervously. There wasn’t a large enough clearing to dig a grave, so maybe he wasn’t planning on killing me. Yet.
“Miss Brinlee, what do you know about Sherwood Manor?”
“What do you mean?”
“You told me you were a guest. Are you a frequent guest? Are you well acquainted with the household?”
“I don’t understand. I thought you said you needed me to be a witness or something.”
“Well, no. I just needed a reason to question you alone without anyone growing suspicious.”
“Is there reason to be suspicious of Sherwood Manor?” I asked.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “No . . . I don’t know. There’s just a tangled mess of men and deceit that’s leading to the corruption of the kingdom. More than we had originally guessed.”
“You mean like that guy you were chasing yesterday.”
Black Rider nodded. “We’re locating more connections every day.”
; I thought about this. “So, you’re just questioning our driver to see if he knows anything?”
“Yes.”
“Does he?”
“He says he doesn’t.”
“Well, I haven’t been at Sherwood Manor long enough to know anything, so I won’t be much help either.” I was sure Lady Catherine had some evil plan up her sleeve—I just didn’t know what yet.
“You’ve already helped me.” Black Rider grinned, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve let me enjoy myself by gazing upon your great beauty.”
I rolled my eyes. Really? That’s his pickup line? “All right, fun’s over. Take me back to my carriage.”
He laughed. “See? You always make me smile.”
I turned and began to walk toward the carriage. I would never get used to someone else laughing at my expense.
“Wait,” he said as he joined me. “Please don’t take offense.”
“I didn’t,” I mumbled.
“I was only enjoying the moment.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“You are angry.”
“Just annoyed.”
“Please forgive me,” he said softly.
We walked the rest of the way in silence. I shrugged his arm off as he grabbed for my elbow. When I stepped into the carriage, I still did not give him the satisfaction of my attention.
“We are done, miladies,” he said to all of us. “Please have a safe journey.”
Neither Fanny nor Rose responded. And of course, neither did I. My mind already had me in enough trouble. How could I even be slightly attracted to that man? And then let him flirt with me like I was some hussy? Who did he think I was?
“Thank you for your time, Miss Brinlee,” he dared say to me.
I'm Not Cinderella (The Princess Chronicles) Page 5
