Her Rightful Place

34: The Gowns

"Mireille! Where is that new gown I sent up here yesterday?" Queen Généviève demands as she sorts through her daughter's armoire. Mireille sits innocently in her window seat, placidly altering another gown she's taken offense to with the slightest of smirks playing about her lips. Christelle is none so discreet and hides her snickers by speaking in low tones with Monique, one of her better friends among Mireille's ladies.

"I have not the faintest idea, Mother. Babette is in charge of my wardrobe. Babette, dear! Please tell Mother where you put the gown she sent yesterday," Mireille calls without missing a stitch.

"And good heavens, what has happened to all of your clothes? I only recognize half a dozen of these garments!" the Queen fusses, apparently oblivious to Mireille's reply and her current actions.

"I do not know, Mother. Perhaps we have a poltergeist with fashion sense?"

Christelle struggles not to choke on her laughter, and even the reserved Monique smiles at Mireille's dry humor. Généviève, on the other hand, is not amused.

"Mireille! I am ashamed of you! And with your Holy Sanctification so fast approaching! How can you even think such things?!" Babette interrupts the scolding by presenting herself to the Queen while Mireille continues making alterations quite as though nothing is amiss.

"What seems to be the problem, Your Majesty?" Babette inquires softly with a curtsey. Queen Généviève turns to her with no small amount of exasperation.

"I cannot find the gown I sent up for Mireille yesterday! Whatever has become of it? She needs to practice dancing in a proper ball gown!"

"Well, Your Majesty, you cannot find the gown because your daughter, the Princess, sent it back to the seamstresses," Babette hedges. In all actuality, Mireille had thrown a fit when she had seen the gown, which was a shade of light pink she deemed "more fit for an infant than a near-grown princess." Additionally it was covered with frills and bows and ruffles that put her in mind of the monstrosity that the Queen of Mordalce was wearing on the morning of Mireille's eviction, and to top it all off the gown contained enough fabric "to clothe three girls of my size," Mireille grumbled indignantly.

"Mireille, why would you do such a thing? Whatever was the matter with it?" Queen Généviève demands irritably.

"It did not suit me," Mireille answers honestly without lifting her eyes from her work. "Ah, I do believe this one is done. Christelle, come help me with it, will you?" Christelle is only too happy to oblige and helps Mireille clear away her alteration supplies and then lifts the gown she has been working on so that Mireille can survey her handiwork. This, too, has been carefully planned; the gown Mireille has just finished altering is one that she was sent only a few days before. The Queen looks on with shock and indignation, almost unable to believe what she's seeing.

"Magnifique, Your Highness," Monique compliments with a sly smile. Since she and Christelle and Mireille became friends, she, too, has been in on their schemes to flout royal comportment.

"What have you done?!" Queen Généviève shrieks, putting her hands to her elaborate hairdo as though to rip it out. "Is that not the gown I sent you three nights past?"

"It was. I am of the opinion that I have greatly improved it," Mireille replies, still eerily calm. She has learned quickly that remaining absolutely calm is actually more annoying to her mother than throwing a tantrum, since tantrums are easily punished and thereby remedied but calm bending of rules is not. The Queen's mouth opens and closes several times; for once she is at a loss for words. Mireille ignores her. "Yes, I think it is finished. Christelle, would you be a dear and put it in the armoire with the others? And Monique, if you do not mind, I think I would like to begin another."