by Diane Darcy
Her green gown was plain except for the strips of leather Cara wrapped in an intricate pattern around her shoulders, under her breasts, and around her waist. Over the top she wore a thin, barely there, matching overcoat, which Cara tied down with more leather strips above each elbow, letting the excess hang. Medieval flair with a touch of bondage. Ha.
Add all that to her dark brows, lashes, and plump pink lips and Amelia would have heads turning for sure.
Lady Helena had watched the entire transformation of her daughters, first protesting, then finally giving in, then in a sort of disbelieving silence.
Cara finished with Dori and finally sat back. She grinned at Lady Helena. “Well, what do you think?”
Dori’s hair was parted on one side, then teased to give it height, and formed her dark curls into big barrel spirals, set over one shoulder,
The girls looked very different, and both of them looked gorgeous.
“They are beautiful.”
“I agree.”
“Now you’ll both have to refrain from rubbing your eyes or your eyebrows, or you’re going to look very silly indeed.”
“We will not.”
Neither of them knew what they looked like, but they could see each other quite clearly, and both were suitably impressed.
“You will both stay close to me, do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother,” they both agreed.
“Are you ready for your turn?” Cara asked.
Lady Helena seemed torn, reluctant, but her gaze kept flitting to her daughters, and she finally gave a nod. “Very well.”
Cara couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from turning up. “Good choice. You definitely want to look your best in this crowd, and the better you look, the better you’ll feel.”
Lady Helena took Dori’s place directly across from Cara and settled in.
Cara worked her magic, quite proud of what she was accomplishing here today.
But there was still an undercurrent of fear.
Would Wallace find her necklace?
How was she getting home? If he blamed her for its loss, would he still help her?
She wasn’t sure where Gillian was, but was grateful for the friendship. She hoped she could talk her husband into giving up the ring she’d worn to go back and forth to the future.
Gillian hadn’t seemed convinced that he still had it, and thought he might have destroyed it.
Surely, he wouldn’t have?
She thought about Gillian’s grim husband, and thought that he just might do that to keep her with him.
What about Wallace? What was he thinking? Doing? What could he do?
Did he hate her now?
She tried to stay upbeat and lighthearted as she finished doing Lady Helena’s makeup,
The girls watched her every movement, the difference in Lady Helena exciting them about their own appearance.
“Do you suppose all the knights will fall in love with us?” Dori asked.
Cara grinned. “I expect they will.”
Lady Helena snorted. “If I catch you talking to a male, you shall be confined to the tent for the remainder of our visit.”
“Yes, Mother,” Dori said, even as she exchanged an excited glance with her sister.
When she’d finished with Lady Helena, she carefully did her own makeup, and the four of them dressed in the gowns Cara altered earlier.
Lady Helena gazed at her daughters and she looked troubled. “What is it?” Cara asked.
“They look different, prettier, and I expect you’re right about the gowns. They will stand out.”
“Just wait for the wedding tomorrow, and see how they look.”
Lady Helena gave a nod, but Cara could tell there was more on her mind.
“Do you think Wallace will find the necklace?” she asked.
Lady Helena gave a small shrug. “I don’t see how he will.” She took Cara by the hand. “But I don’t want you to fret. You are not to blame for the theft.”
Cara gave a nod, grateful for the support, but still blaming herself. “I should have put it between us, I don’t know why I didn’t think to.”
Lady Helena gave a nod, and smoothed a hand over her dress. “There’s no use crying about it. Perhaps all is not lost.” She glanced at her daughters. “Who’s to say what will happen while we’re here.”
Cara nodded. “All right then, let’s get this show on the road.”
Dori laughed. “You say the oddest things.”
Cara put the finishing touches on her own lip balm, and then grinned at the three ladies.
“And I only get worse. So much worse.”
Cara did her own makeup, something she had a lot of practice with and so the lack of mirror didn’t deter her. She asked the other three how it looked during each part of the application, and they carefully watched her and commented.
Done.
Feeling in better spirits, the four of them left the tent.
Lady Helena directed some of the servants to guard the interior, and Cara didn’t say anything, but she really didn’t see the point.
Sort of like closing the barn after the horses escaped.
Chapter 26
Wallace was inside the castle when his mother, Cara, and his sisters came inside.
He watched them approach, and was struck by how beautiful the four looked.
Almost as if they’d drunk some sort of potion since last he’d seen them. Eyes and lips sparkling like jewels, he soon only had eyes for Cara, and could not help but note how her eyes and lips seemed to glimmer, drawing his gaze.
Her hair was different too. Fuller, softer, and he had the fanciful thought that they’d stumbled onto some sort of elixir, had partaken, and were no longer simply mortal, but touched with magic.
He dragged his gaze from Cara to glance around the room, and noted that he was not the only one staring at the ladies coming to a halt before him.
“Any news?” Lady Helena asked, though he could tell from her tone she didn’t expect any, and wished he could prove her wrong.
“Word has been spread, but naught has come of it.”
Lady Helena nodded, her expression resigned, and even as he registered her disappointment, he could not help but take a closer look at her features.
Something had changed, even in his mother.
“What is it?” she asked, and he tore his gaze away, to look at Cara, and his sisters.
“I’ve asked to speak to the king, but so far no luck.”
Just then Lady Marshall came down the stairs, and hurried toward their group. “Oh, Cara,” she said when she reached them. “I’m so sorry to hear about your necklace. We’ll figure it out, don’t you worry.”
“I hope so.”
Lady Marshall’s expression twisted in concern. “We’ll think of something.” She gave Cara a once over. “And can I just say, you look gorgeous. Will you do me too?”
Cara lifted the bag slung around one shoulder. “I brought my supplies.”
Lady Marshall waved a hand. “We’ll do it later, because, guess what?” She squeezed both Cara’s hands with hers and gave a little squeal. “You have an audience with the queen. Apparently, she’s heard about your missing necklace, and wants the details first hand.”
She leaned in to whisper, “She’s totally the biggest gossip that you ever saw, but then, I guess we all are, because, you know, what else is there to do?”
Wallace wanted to keep Cara with him.
Lady Marshall gave a little laugh, and tugged Cara forward, and then she glanced at the others. “Wow, you guys look great. We’ll see you later.”
As the two girls waved at the rest of them, Wallace watched Cara go, immediately feeling the loss of her presence.
Gillian linked their arms together, and pulled her toward the stairs. As they climbed, Gillian repeated her earlier warning. “Don’t forget, you’re from Wales, which is why your accent is off. They don’t even know about America, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell
them about it as they don’t discover it for another two hundred years or so.”
“I couldn’t have told you that.”
“I brought a history book with me when I came back. Super-secret, hidden and all that,” she said with a wave.
“Your ingenuity is amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“Now about that chocolate …”
“Never going to happen. But good try.”
They were laughing as they walked down the hallway, and when they’d almost reached the double door with guards outside, Gillian stopped.
“Are you ready?” she whispered.
Cara drew in a breath. “Yes.”
Gillian gave her a once over, twitched her skirt into place, and gave the guards the signal to open the door.
They both opened one door each at the same time, and when Gillian crossed her hands in front of her, Cara did the same.
This world was going to take some getting used to.
The room was large and opulent, ladies in medieval dresses of all hues were seated on chairs, or standing, or fussing over two women.
One could only be the queen, and the other, the bride.
The queen wore a rich burgundy gown, threaded with gold beadwork and embroidery, the neck of her dress was square, with a necklace hanging down at mid chest that was large enough that Cara could tell from across the room that it resembled the sun.
The bride wore a jewel-colored green gown, and was obviously very young.
As in, too young for marriage.
She’d have to ask Gillian about it later.
It was loud, and apparent that the predominant language being spoken was French, as Gillian had said.
The doors shut behind them, and ladies glanced in their direction, until finally the queen’s attention was caught and she studied Gillian, and then Cara for a long moment.
When Gillian dipped into a curtsy, Cara quickly did the same.
“Lady Marshall, come forward, and introduce your friend,” the queen said in heavily accented French.
They both went forward and Gillian smiled at the queen. “Your Majesty, Queen Eleanor, this is my friend, Lady Cara Jones of Wales.”
The queen remained expressionless, and then finally asked, “Who are your people?” in heavily accented French.
“My father is Mark Jones, and my mother, Lori, is formally of the Fernsby clan.”
“I don’t know them.”
Cara didn’t suppose that she did.
“You are very pretty,” the queen said.
“Thank you,” Cara bent her head toward the queen. “And you are very beautiful.”
And she was. Cara looked at the other woman, probably mid-thirties or so, with brunette hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. Perhaps not as pretty as some of the actresses she’d worked with, but stunning regardless.
The queen’s gaze moved up and down. “Your dress is interesting. Is it a new style in Wales?”
“It is.”
“You cannot compete with France for style, of course, but ’tis passable.”
Cara bit back her amusement. “Thank you.”
The queen looked her dress over again, and then gave a quick nod, seeming to lose interest in them both as she turned away.
Gillian gestured Cara toward a plush bench, and the two of them took a seat to watch the proceedings.
It slowly dawned on Cara that the bride couldn’t be more than twelve years old.
“That is the bride, right?”
“It is,” Gillian whispered back. Cara exchanged a glance with her. She continued. “Don’t worry, from what I can make out, these things usually aren’t consummated for years. The girl will now grow up in the household with her husband until that time.”
“Well, let’s hope it’s a decade.”
“Even five years would be nice.”
The girl’s dark hair made her wonder if she was related to the queen, and she asked Gillian, “Is this the king’s niece, or the queen’s?”
“The queen’s.”
The girl, sitting on a chair in the middle of the room looked unhappy.
The queen did a slow circle around her chair, the other ladies standing back a bit. Though Cara didn’t understand her words, it looked like the queen was giving the maid suggestions for how to do her hair.
“Does she not want to get married?” Cara whispered again.
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t look like it, does it?”
And who would at age twelve?
The ladies paired off into groups for the most part, and the chattering was a low murmur in the room. None of them seemed in a hurry to include Gillian or Cara, so Cara finally said, “Is now a good time to do your hair and makeup? Or do you want to do that in your room later?”
Gillian took a look around. “I guess now is as good a time as any, but you might get roped into doing other ladies if you do it here.”
“I’m game if you are. I love to do this or I wouldn’t have made a career out of it.” Cara spotted a table off to one side, and told Gillian, “Go find a stool, and I’ll get set up.”
Cara laid out her meager stash of makeup, most of which Gillian had helped her gather and fold into parchment paper. Clay, soot, chalk, oiled rose petals, and crushed coal. Gillian’s maid had given up a concoction made with beets that worked surprisingly well a rouge, but only after getting a solemn promise that the priest would never find out.
Cara kept the eyeliner hidden.
She sighed. What she wouldn’t do for her makeup box.
Gillian had one of the servants carry a heavy chair over and set it down beside Cara’s new workstation.
Some of the women threw her curious looks, and others continued to ignore them, including the queen.
“Normally, I wouldn’t do your hair first, but I’m worried if we start with makeup, we’ll never get to your hair if the other ladies try and horn in.”
Gillian giggled. “Whatever you think best.”
Cara set to work, undoing multiple leather thongs and braids in Gillian’s hair. “Is your maid going to kill me for undoing her work?”
“No, but she’ll probably try to copy you later.”
Cara smiled. “She’s welcome to try.”
Cara set the leather thongs and embroidered hair ties in a row, and then headed over for more supplies, snagging a brush, comb, and a backcombing implement.
Others looked curious, but no one protested, and she headed back to lay everything out on the table beside Gillian.
She picked up the brush and drew it through Gillian’s thick blonde hair in big sweeps, parted her hair to one side, then set the brush down and picked up the comb to make a part just behind her bangs and let that hair fall forward as she back combed the crown of Gillian’s hair.
This was a style she’d done at least twenty times on Princess Pat on the set of Rupert the Brave, Wallace the Traitor, so it seemed appropriate.
Hairspray would’ve been nice, but she worked with what she had, using the leather and embroidery ties, as she weaved a thick, loose, half-braid from one ear to the other.
She smoothed the backcombed hair on top, and tucked it into the top of the braid, grateful for the natural curl in Gillian’s hair as she left tendrils on the sides of her head, and back of her neck.
Using her hand, she curled them in the direction she wanted them to go, then took the ends of the braid, and tied it in place, tugging the pieces to fluff it into a big rosette.
After about twenty minutes, she stood back and admired her masterpiece.
She wasn’t the only one.
The other ladies, including the queen, looked over Gillian’s new style, and though they spoke in French, their wide eyes and excited voices said they approved.
Cara quickly made up Gillian’s face. As the crowd had grown to include everyone in the room, she worried she wouldn’t have much time before her services were required elsewhere.
When she finished, the women were silent.
It did
n’t hurt that Gillian was classically beautiful, with her blonde hair, large blue eyes, and sunny disposition evident in her big smile.
“How do I look?”
Before she could respond, the queen said, “You will do the bride next, and then myself.”
Gillian laughed. “That good?”
“You look like a … an angel.” Cara almost said princess, the word wanting to trip out of her mouth. But in this crowd? She didn’t want to cause any trouble.
The bride, eyes lowered, was situated in Cara’s new styling chair. “Hi, I’m Cara what’s your name?”
The girl looked to her elders, and someone finally responded in accented English, “Her name is Melisande.”
“Oh, that’s pretty.”
The girl was looking up at her, glanced at Gillian, and then said shyly, “Millie.”
“Hello, Millie, I am about to make you look gorgeous.”
She situated Millie where she wanted her, and got to work. And her hair was wonderfully thick, but straight as a rail, and if she’d had her druthers, she’d have braided it tightly before the girl had gone to bed last night.
As that wasn’t an option, she went with the girl’s strengths, thickness and length, and the beautiful dark color, and when she was done, she coiled braids atop the girl’s head, weaving them in and out of each other, leaving the back to hang.
Fortunately, she was used to working with an audience, as she had not only done many a hair show, but on set, there were a lot of people with time on their hands, as they waited either their turn or for the next scene. It was the norm for her to have at least two or three people gathered around at any given time.
Unless, like Princess Pat, her clients didn’t allow anyone to watch.
She’d left tendrils of hair around her face, and made rosettes on one side of the bride’s head with long pieces of hair. When she finished, Millie looked gorgeous.
And so young, it made Cara’s heart ache.
She asked for paper, and was delivered thick parchment, homemade and pressed with flower petals, giving it a very designer look.
