The Music Makers (Timeshift Victorian Mysteries Book 2) by Alexandra Walsh

Author:Alexandra Walsh [Walsh, Alexandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2021-11-08T16:00:00+00:00

Stepping into the dress was a revelation. It shivered down Esme’s body with a whisper. “Even on stage, I’ve never worn anything this revealing,” she said, staring at her slender arms and shapely calves.

“It’s a good fit,” pronounced Mrs Simpson. “Does it feel comfortable?”

“Yes. The lightness feels strange, though.”

“There’s some boning in the bodice to give it shape, but the fabric is too delicate for anything else. You have a good figure; you don’t need any enhancements.” She helped Esme down from the stool. “There are drawstrings, here and here.” She pointed to the seams. “They will make it easier to dress without a maid. The dress is much stronger that it looks, so you can be quite firm.”

The second dress was a vibrant red taffeta, narrowly cut to hug Esme’s figure. The shoulders were wide and low, enhancing her cleavage, while the skirt skimmed her hips in a long column, flaring out at the bottom for ease of movement. Once again, there were hidden buttons and strings to help her dress with ease.

Esme stared at herself in awe. Mrs Simpson circled like a bird of prey, muttering to herself. Masks to cover her eyes were in the boxes, one to match each dress. It was one of Aaron’s rules that they had to wear them when they were performing at the special events in the basement, so their true identities were disguised.

“I’ll check Miss Mason’s outfits now,” Mrs Simpson said and strode towards the adjoining door.

There was a knock on the exterior door.

“Who is it?”

“Me. Strewth!” Aaron was peering around the door. “Esme, you look incredible.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” she asked, ignoring the compliment and beckoning him inside.

Aaron made himself comfortable on the bed. “Tonight’s event,” he said, “is a birthday celebration for one of our richer and more unusual clients, known as The Judge.”

They never used people’s names, only a pseudonym. Esme gave a small nod to indicate she was listening while continuing to twist and turn in front of the mirror to admire her reflection.

“The Judge’s friend and co-host, The Bishop, has made a few tweaks to the original plans. One of which was for you and Lyn to perform one of your old Skylark Sister routines.”

“You might have asked us first.”

“The request was made less than an hour ago.”

“Liar,” said Esme, but without rancour, “there is no way that woman could have created these costumes in an hour.”

“Oh no, those were always going to be your costumes at some point, but we had to make alterations to the feather dresses so you could dance.”

“Fine, which song?”

“‘I’m Going to Catch the Eye of the Tsar’.”

“It could be worse. And these dresses?” She pointed to her reflection in the mirror.

“For the rest of the music.”

“These are extraordinary,” she said, before catching a glimpse of Aaron’s face with its expression of extreme mischief. “What?”

“Could I photograph you in the feathers?”

“They probably won’t fit you,” she quipped, “but you’re welcome to try.”

Aaron laughed. “You should be on the stage, Miss Blood.

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