My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas by Kathleen Y'Barbo

Author:Kathleen Y'Barbo [Y'Barbo, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781683225027
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2018-06-15T07:00:00+00:00

On the evening of the ball, Madeline watched the preparations from her third-floor window most of the day. The lovely dress Madame had delivered for her now hung on the peg, and her dancing shoes waited on the floor beside it.

The gown was an evening dress of blue silk made in the princess shape with a low corsage and short sleeves. The skirt was trimmed with four knife pleats, and the drapery atop it was white satin de Lyon that had been made to fall in a very long train in the back.

Madeline had indeed felt like a princess each time the seamstress arrived for a fitting. Just looking at it now made her smile.

Gretchen had been called in to tie up her corset and arrange Madeline’s hair into something worthy of a formal occasion. The maid now stood behind her at the mirror, comb poised and her usual surly look in place while Madeline struggled to take a deep breath.

“You know what?” Madeline said as she reached to take the comb from Gretchen’s hand. “I think I can manage this myself.”

“Like you managed getting off that ledge,” she said.

“I could have gotten off that ledge just fine if you hadn’t closed the window.” She watched Gretchen’s expression closely. “Or rather if you hadn’t locked it.”

“I do as I am told,” the maid said as she snatched the comb back. “And tonight I am told by Madame to do something to make your hair acceptable for the party.”

“Acceptable. Well, as long as you have high standards,” Madeline said sarcastically as she turned around to endure a full hour of torture. Finally the pain ceased and Gretchen offered her the mirror.

“It is now acceptable.”

Madeline gasped. Her hair had been arranged in chatelaine braids fastened by a large bouquet of roses, presumably from Madame’s collection downstairs.

Much as it pained her—literally—Madeline had to admit that Gretchen did have considerable hairdressing skills. “Where did you learn this?” she asked when the ordeal was over.

“I was taught,” she said simply.

“Taught?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Someone teaches a skill and you learn it. It’s a simple thing, no?”

“No, I mean yes, I suppose.”

Gretchen looked away. “No. And we are done here. If you need help getting into that dress, you ring for the scullery maid, understand?”

“Gretchen,” she said as the maid stepped out into the hall. “I am sorry for whoever hurt you.”

The maid looked as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she slammed the door, her footsteps echoing in the corridor outside.

Madeline stared at the closed door. What in the world had possessed her to say that? The words had come out, unbidden and certainly unexpected.

Madeline walked over to where the rest of her ensemble had been laid out. Due to the cut of the neckline and the jewelry Madame had chosen for her, the necklace she had worn since the last time she saw her papa would have to come off for the evening.

Lifting the chain over her head to place it on the table beside the mirror, she keenly felt its absence as she heard Papa’s words of warning.

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