Storm of Bells

25. Clothes Do Not Make the Man, but Catch Lots of Them

Grinning, Cora and Jenny made a grab for her. Amy avoided them with a frantic leap back, panic spreading across her face as she stared at the dress in front of her. 'But...I can't wear something like this!'

'You're right.' Nodding thoughtfully, I marched around the gown, eyeing it critically. 'The basic look is nice, but it lacks a certain something. It needs a little improvement. Maybe some nice borders, a little lace, and definitely some pearls to go along with it.'

Amy retreated another step. 'What? Pearls? No!'

'Would you prefer diamonds?'

'No, no! I can't wear anything like that!' She slowly began retreating, only to suddenly find herself blocked from behind by Ella and Adaira. 'I couldn't possibly! I couldn't, I—!'

'Nonsense! My maid of honour needs to be appropriately attired.' And she needs to be shown that there's more to the world than what she's used to, if she would just accept a helping hand.

Amy tugged at her hair, hard, clearly trying to improve her hairstyle. It couldn't possibly be because she was exasperated with me, now, could it?

'I 'ate to point dis out to ye,' Amy said in the kind of slow voice you use to explain to toddlers that 1 plus 1 does not equal 11, 'but usually, a maid of 'onour 'as to be a maid. Maid as in no funny business in Cockadoodle Lane? That's where the title comes from.'

'Well...' I grinned at her. 'It's lucky that I'm not your usual kind of girl, isn't it?'

Before she could utter one more word of protest, I signalled my reserve troops. Ella and Adaira, flanked by Patsy and Eve, swooped in and each grabbed one arm. Ha! She might have dodged the first attack, but she was helpless in the face of my elite paladins of the parasol!

'Hey! Wait! What are you doing? You can't—'

'Just go with the flow,' Ella advised.

'The flow being the direction in which I'm marching,' Patsy added with a stern stare.

Together, we dragged the protesting prostitute over to the centre of the room, where Cora was already waiting in line.

'Please, Miss?' Mrs Jenkins pointed at the stool in the centre of the room. 'Would you be so kind?'

Looking confused, Cora climbed onto the stool 'Like dis?'

'Yes, exactly, Miss.' Pulling something out of a pocket, Mrs Jenkins stepped forward and raised her hands towards Cora's chest. 'Now let me just—'

'Oy!' Jumping back off the stool, Cora wagged a finger at the woman. 'No touchin' without paying, lady!'

Heat flushed Mrs Jenkins' face. Amy glowered at her friend. Somewhere in the background, someone—most likely someone whose name started with A and ended with daira—was trying to suppress their snickering.

Lady Samantha delicately cleared her throat. 'I, um, believe she only means to take your measurements, Cora, dear.'

'Oh.' Cora blinked. 'Really? That's all?' She glanced down at the bulbous protuberances that were going to make for one bloody impressive measurement, as if to ask That's all she wants? What's wrong with these? They still worked well enough yesterday. 'Are you sure?'

'Quite sure.'

'Oh.' Cora climbed back onto the stool again. 'Well...go ahead, I guess.'

With a martyred expression on her face, Mrs Jenkins stepped forward and started measuring. All the while, Amy struggled against my friends' hold, but by now Patsy had gotten a firm grip on her, and no one escaped the clutches of the dreaded wielder of the parasol.