Читать книгу Cavendon Hall - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 11

FOUR

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The evening gown lay on a white sheet, on the floor of Lady DeLacy Ingham’s bedroom. DeLacy was the twelve-year-old daughter of the Earl and Countess, and Cecily’s best friend. This morning she was excited, because she had been allowed to help Cecily with the dresses. These had been brought down from the large cedar storage closet in the attics. Some were hanging in the sewing room, awaiting Alice’s inspection; two others were here.

The gown that held their attention was a shimmering column of green, blue and turquoise crystal beads, and to the two young girls kneeling next to it, the dress was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen.

‘Daphne’s going to look lovely in it,’ DeLacy said, staring across at Cecily. ‘Don’t you think so?’

Cecily nodded. ‘My mother wants me to seek out flaws in the dress, such as broken beads, broken threads, any little problems. She needs to know how many repairs it needs.’

‘So that’s what we’ll do,’ DeLacy asserted. ‘Shall I start here? On the neckline and the sleeves?’

‘Yes, that’s a good idea,’ Cecily answered. ‘I’ll examine the hem, which my mother says usually gets damaged by men. By their shoes, I mean. They all step on the hem when they’re dancing.’

DeLacy nodded. ‘Clumsy. That’s what they are,’ she shot back, always quick to speak her mind. She was staring down at the dress, and exclaimed, ‘Look, Ceci, how it shimmers when I touch it.’ She shook the gown lightly. ‘It’s like the sea, like waves, the way it moves. It will match Daphne’s eyes, won’t it? Oh, I do hope she meets a duke’s son when she’s wearing it.’

‘Yes,’ Cecily muttered absently, her head bent as she concentrated on the hemline of the beaded gown. It had been designed and made in Paris by a famous designer, and the Countess had only worn it a few times. Then it had been carefully stored, wrapped in white cotton and placed in a large box. The gown was to be given to Daphne, to wear at one of the special summer parties, once it had been fitted to suit her figure.

‘There’s hardly any damage,’ Cecily announced a few minutes later. ‘How are the sleeves and the neckline?’

‘Almost perfect,’ DeLacy replied. ‘There aren’t many beads missing.’

‘Mam will be pleased.’ Cecily stood up. ‘Let’s put the gown back on the bed.’

She and DeLacy took the beaded evening dress, each of them holding one end, and lifted it carefully onto DeLacy’s bed. ‘Gosh, it’s really heavy,’ she said as they put it back in place.

‘That’s the reason beaded dresses are kept in boxes or drawers,’ Cecily explained. ‘If a beaded gown is put on a hanger, the beads will eventually weigh it down, and that makes the dress longer. It gets out of shape.’

DeLacy nodded, always interested in the things Cecily told her, especially about frocks. She knew a lot about clothes, and DeLacy learned from her all the time.

Cecily straightened the beaded dress and covered it with a long piece of cotton, then walked across the room to look out of the window. She was hoping to see her mother coming from the village. There was no sign of her yet.

DeLacy remained near the bed, now staring down at the other summer evening gown, a froth of white tulle, taffeta and handmade lace. ‘I think I like this one the most,’ she said to Cecily without turning around. ‘This is a real ball gown.’

‘I know. Mam told me your mother wore it only once, and it’s been kept in a cotton bag in the cedar closet for ages. That’s why the white is still white. It hasn’t turned.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘White turns colour. It can become creamy, yellowed, or faded. But the ball gown has been well protected, and it’s as good as new.’

On an impulse, DeLacy reached down, picked up the gown and moved away from the bed. Holding the gown close to her body, she began to dance around the room, whirling and twirling, humming to herself, imagining herself waltzing in a ballroom. The skirt of the gown flared out as she moved.

Cecily couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She was totally speechless, gaping at DeLacy as she continued to swirl and jump with the delicate ball gown in her arms. Cecily was in shock, unable to do anything. She was afraid to grab DeLacy in case the gown was damaged in the process, and so she just stood there cringing, worried about the lace and the tulle. It truly was a ball gown, full-skirted like a crinoline, and it would easily rip if it caught on the furniture.

Finding her voice at last, Cecily exclaimed, ‘Please stop, DeLacy! The fabric could get damaged. It’s so delicate. Please, please put the dress back on the bed!’

Now Cecily took a step forward, moving closer to her friend, who immediately danced away, putting herself out of reach. She continued to clutch the dress to her body. ‘I won’t hurt it, Ceci,’ DeLacy said, still whirling around the room. ‘I promise I won’t.’

‘Stop! You must stop!’ Cecily cried desperately, her voice rising. She was on the verge of tears.

DeLacy Ingham paid no attention to Cecily Swann.

She was enjoying herself too much, dancing around the bedroom, lost in a world of her own for a moment or two. And then it happened. The accident.

Cecily saw it start as if in slow motion, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

DeLacy’s foot got caught in the hemline of the gown. She wobbled. Then lost her balance. And reached out to steady herself. She grabbed the edge of the desk, still holding the gown. But as she did so, she knocked over the inkpot. It rolled across the desk towards her. She stepped back but she was not fast enough. The bright blue ink splashed onto the front of the skirt of the white lace ball gown.

Cecily gasped out loud, her eyes widening. Horrified at what had just happened, and frightened at the thought of the consequences, she was unable to move.

DeLacy looked down at the ink, her face stricken. When she glanced across at Cecily her eyes filled with tears.

‘Look what you’ve done!’ Cecily said, her voice trembling. ‘Why didn’t you listen to me? Why didn’t you pay attention?’

DeLacy had no answer for her. She stood there holding the dress, tears rolling down her face.

Cavendon Hall

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