Midnight in Everwood(6)

‘My dressmaker in Mayfair assured me that the ruffles will aid in disguising your lack of assets,’ Ida said, appearing behind her in a whirl of rose water and satin.

Ballet had lent Marietta a willowy figure, the endless pliés and battements resulting in hard muscle tone, slim hips and a flat chest, all of which were terribly unfashionable. Ida pursed her lips, scrutinising the ballet dress Marietta was still wearing; simple and diaphanous enough to allow the wearer to leap through the air. ‘Must you wear that unseemly ensemble about the house? It is most improper.’ The first time Marietta had worn it, Ida had practically had a fit of the vapours.

‘Is there a reason for this excessive primping?’ Marietta eyed the lustrous shine of Ida’s gown. In deep cobalt, it evoked memories of sun-dappled water from summers spent luxuriating on the French Riviera, where both the days and skies seemed to stretch out endlessly. Scattered with sequins and embroidered with jet beads, it was more ornate than the ones she tended to don for family alone, accompanied by silk gloves and a double string of pearls.

‘Dr Drosselmeier has graciously accepted our invitation and is dining with us this evening,’ Ida answered as Marietta disappeared behind the large triptych screen. Painted in dark rose, it dominated a corner of her bedroom, although it was a room of generous proportions. Roses clambered across a wallpaper of silver firs, dark wooden floors lay underneath, softened with ivory carpets, and a set of bay windows overlooked the frosted street. The thick fabric of the curtains from one window sashayed across the wall to meet the next, creating the perfect concealment for the barre Frederick had built her some five years ago. Marietta exchanged the white ballet dress she’d been rehearsing Aurora’s springing steps in for a chemise and S-shaped corset that would cajole some curves into existence.

‘We’re to be the very first to host the good doctor,’ Ida continued proudly. ‘As I understand it, he is quite the mystery. Young to have forsaken medicine for an unusually frivolous pursuit, and he possesses such a grand fortune for a family no one has heard mention of before.’

As Marietta emerged from behind the screen, Ida said, ‘You may be dismissed, Sally.’

Marietta’s lady’s maid – a quiet, mousy woman in her late twenties with wide-set eyes that regarded the world in much the same manner as an injured squirrel might – bobbed a quick curtsy and scurried out. ‘If you’ll allow me, dear.’ Ida grasped the laces of Marietta’s corset.

‘Really, Mother, I am perfectly capable of managing myself. You do terrify poor Sally,’ Marietta said to no avail. She heard her mother’s shake of her head in a tinkling of diamond and jet earrings.

‘You are far too negligent with your own ministrations. And that girl is too twitchy and eager to please for my liking. I have taken note of the dinners she has allowed you to attend improperly dressed.’ She pulled on the lacings, forcing Marietta’s hips to thrust forward, her back to arch and her chest to form the pouter pigeon front.

‘That will be sufficient.’ Marietta’s words rushed out in a single breath as Ida ignored her plea and further tightened the lacings before tying them, securing Marietta in her coutil, batiste and sateen confinement. ‘I had been given to understand that the new style of corsetry did not impair lung function,’ she said drily.

Ida ignored this comment, too. ‘When Dr Drosselmeier joins us, I expect you to play the gracious hostess befitting of your rank. You are not beautiful, Marietta; no prospective Wordsworths shall ever wax lyrical on your allure. However, beauty fades and grace may last a lifetime. Tonight, I expect you to be charming. There will be not a mention of politics, dance or other scandalous subjects you have been known to pollute our discourse with. Nor any tiresome quarrelling with your father. Why you seem so determined to challenge him, I shall never understand.’ She paused to survey her daughter, whose cheeks were blooming with pent-up frustration. ‘Though you do possess a darling rosiness tonight, dear. How fortuitous that it complements the shade of your dress.’

While Ida summoned Sally, Marietta glanced in her cheval mirror. She wondered if their dinner guest disliked the theatricality of high society with its litany of social conventions as much as she did. A toymaker, she thought to herself. How … refreshing. At least he should prove to be more interesting than her litany of suitors who introduced one tiresome line of conversation after another. No doubt they were the first to host him due to their status as one of the richest families in the city, and certainly the most influential, thanks to her mother’s efforts in social elevation. She sighed at the thought of Victoria’s inevitable interrogation when she discovered the fact and wondered if Drosselmeier was aware of the effect he’d had upon the mothers in the upper classes. The rumours she’d heard fluttered around her thoughts and she was irritated to find herself rather curious after all. She straightened up when Sally re-entered the room to assist in dressing her. Her new gown fell in soft folds to her white Moroccan leather shoes, daintily heeled with three little straps.

‘We ought to do something about her hair, Sally.’ Ida examined Marietta’s sable hair, tumbling down one shoulder in a lazy twisted plait, a hand coming to rest on her own elaborate pompadour.

Sally’s eyes swivelled between them as if she were a spectator at Wimbledon. At least she had been ousted before Ida had revealed the direction her intentions towards Drosselmeier lay; the last thing Marietta desired was to be made the object of household gossip. Her patience frayed like a scrap of lace. ‘Have you seen Father lately?’