But her words were cut short as her door sprung open. She automatically rose from her chair, turning as her mother bustled into the room. “Purple?” her mother asked, wrinkling her nose. “If you’re talking about your dress for the day, the white muslin is the only choice.”
Evie’s mouth pursed. “But the embroidery work along the hem. You’re not concerned it might be damaged in the grass?”
Her mother’s spine grew straighter. “You’ll have to be careful.”
Careful. Of course. How was she to play croquet, bending over with a gown that brushed the ground with detailed embroidery along the hem. “But Mother—”
“No buts.” Her mother raised a finger. “You need to impress the duke and that’s the dress to make the best impression. Which reminds me. About breakfast,” her mother started as Evie groaned.
“His grace doesn’t mind if I eat breakfast, mother.”
Her mother’s tongue clucked. “He’ll mind when you don’t fit into your gowns. And he’d like you even more if you could just resist your constant need for sweets.”
Evie stopped listening as the white muslin gown was prepared. Not only would she not be eating breakfast but she doubted she’d enjoy the games much at all.
How could she?
She already found socializing uncomfortable and now she’d have to be cordial and make conversation with an empty stomach in a dress that would have to be carefully managed.
All her joy evaporated like the morning dew on the grass.
Mary carefully buttoned the tiny row of buttons at the back, cinching the dress tight. The purple dress she’d wished to wear had been made for outdoor fun, and she glanced at it as it hung in the open wardrobe, its lilac color less muted than most she owned. It was one of the few dresses she’d chosen for herself.
“And Evie,” the countess called from the doorway, “Stay out of the kitchen today. The guests are already talking and it just isn’t appropriate.”
Like she needed a reminder of how she didn’t fit in, belong with the other debutantes.
Evie didn’t bother to answer as her mother, now satisfied, swept back out of the room. Mary finished fastening the down and Evie settled into her window seat. “Mary, would you bring up a tray of tea and toast for me?” There was little point in attending a breakfast where she could hardly eat. The buffet was sure to be full of all sorts of delicious treats; it would be torturous to watch everyone else enjoy the offerings.
Mary gave a quick nod as she too disappeared from the room. Gently, Evie plucked at the elaborate embroidery work that ran down the front of the dress and all along the hem. She felt like a doll who’d been dressed for display but wasn’t actually allowed to live at all.