CHAPTER 1
This was the part Hester liked best, the part that made all the other less pleasant aspects of her job worthwhile. She fastened the Ainsley family emeralds around Dulcie's neck, then tugged at the tissue-light silk that draped with such deceptive grace across the girl's shoulders and neckline.
"There." She smiled down at her student who, despite her past two months of hard work, looked panic-stricken at the thought of attending tonight's ball. "Are you ready to view yourself now?"
Dulcie heaved a great, woeful sigh, then stared down at her new apple-green gown. "It's a very pretty dress," she admitted. "That Madame Henri you suggested is indeed a most talented dressmaker. But ..." Her voice wobbled a bit. "But," she continued in little more than a whisper, "I hate balls. I hated them last year, and I shall hate them even more this year."
"Now, now. What have we discussed in the past about the importance of attitude?" Hester gave her young charge an encouraging smile. Dulcie Bennett was too plain, too plump, and too shy to make much of a splashin this, her second season. The first season had apparently been dreadful: social gaffes, humiliating disappointments, storms of tears, and a vow by the girl never to attend a party again. Ever.
From what Hester could tell, that had been the first act of self-will the girl had ever evinced. And more than overdue, Hester had decided when she'd heard about it. Fortunately Dulcie's mother, Lady Ainsley, had done as one of her old aunts had advised: she'd engaged Mrs. Hester Poitevant of the Mayfair Academy to properly prepare Dulcie for her next round on the marriage mart.
Hester knew what they said of her, and she took great satisfaction in it. Gossip had it that every girl Mrs. Poitevant coached inevitably became a bride. And more importantly to the harried mamas, the matches were accomplished with a minimum of bother to them.
Some called her the Bridemaker. Others referred to her as a miracle worker, given the raw material she often had to work with. Word was that Mrs. Poitevant could make a stout young lady appear slender, turn a wallflower witty, groom a plain girl into handsomeness, and make a graceless creature endearing. In short, her girls learned how to charm men. The right men.
So long as your daughter had a reasonable dowry attached to her hand, the wags said, Hester Poitevant could get her married with a minimum of fuss and investment. Considering the expense of a second, third, or even fourth season, the fees charged by the Mayfair Academy were actually a great bargain. Hester often made that point when the subject of her fees came up, and it always silenced the protesting papas.
But Hester was not thinking of fees right now. She was thinking, rather, of Dulcie who, despite her outward limitations, was as sweet and loving as a young person could be. Truly amazing, considering that thoughtlesslyblustering brother of hers, and her shallow, self-important mother.
Under Hester's steady stare Dulcie bashfully lowered her eyes. "I know. I know. I mustn't allow myself to speak so negatively about myself."
"Nor think negatively," Hester added. "You have focused so long on your perceived shortcomings, Dulcie, that you quite overlook your lovelier aspects. And in the process you convince others to overlook them as well. Now, turn around. Take a good, long look in that mirror and tell me what you think."
Slowly--reluctantly--the girl complied. Hester caught her breath in anticipation.
As usual Madame Henri had worked wonders with the pattern adjustments Hester had requested. Into the most current pattern of pinch-waisted dresses, Hester had instructed her to add a wider and lower corsage with drapery folds which did not descend completely to the waist. The bodice beneath it and also the skirt were fashioned with several gores piped at the seams with a slightly darker shade of apple-green silk.
As she'd expected, it created an amazingly slimming illusion. Higher heels than normal added to that illusion.
Dulcie's eyes grew huge as she caught sight of herself in the tailor's mirror. Her mouth formed a small, shocked O, and for a long moment she could not speak. Finally she said in a reverential whisper, "It's ... it's lovely."
Hester's eyes danced with glee. "No. It's you who are lovely." Indeed, the dress was even more becoming than Hester had imagined when she'd selected the fabric and patterns. Cream and soft apple green complemented the girl's coloring far better than white and mint. Dulcie's hazel eyes glowed as green as the gown, and her delicate coloring fairly bloomed.
"With your hair styled this way--and that little touchof makeup we applied--" Hester added that last in a whisper. "You have become beautiful. Absolutely beautiful."
"Oh." That was all the stunned girl could say as she turned back and forth before the tall mirror. "Oh."
To Hester's satisfaction, a smile began to curve Dulcie's lips. First hesitant, then happy, and finally ecstatic. At the same time the girl's posture straightened, and she relaxed her shoulders as Hester so often reminded her to do.
Dulcie had a beautiful complexion, not a spot or a freckle in sight. She had a lovely bosom and delicate, expressive hands. Plus a beautifully shaped mouth. A longish nose, shortish chin, and a too high brow prevented her being considered pretty. But Hester had had girls with far greater flaws. In truth, she'd rather work with a sweet, plain girl than with a pretty petulant one.
Hester folded her hands neatly at her waist. "I take it you like the dress?"
When their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror, Hester saw the glitter of tears in her young student's eyes. Dulcie nodded, for she seemed unable to speak. But that was all right with Hester. Though she endeavored never to reveal any sign of favoritism, Dulcie was without a doubt the favorite of her students this year. To see her so happy gave Hester a thrill of her own.
But enough of all this sentiment. It was time for the ball.
"All right then." Hester pushed up the spectacles that were always sliding down her nose. "Here's your reticule. And your fan. Now, let's go show you off to your mother and brother, shall we?"
George Bennett, Viscount Ainsley, clearly was struck speechless by his sister's appearance. He'd been impatient to depart for tonight's entertainments so that he could sample Lord Soames's renowned selection of cigarsand brandies. When Hester and Dulcie reached the head of the stairs he was pacing the foyer, slapping his gloves against his thigh and complaining to his mother about tardy females and their endless vanities.
But when he spied Dulcie, his expression mirrored that of his dumbstruck parent: eyes wide and staring; mouth hanging open in stunned appreciation.
As well they ought to be, Hester thought with no small amount of pride. In addition to the handsome gown, Dulcie's hair had been arranged to disguise her high brow. Plus Hester had added a few touches of shadowing--dark to shorten her nose, and light to bring her chin forward. And of course the striking green gown and slippers made her look taller and slimmer.
But more than the illusions applied to her person, it was Dulcie's bearing that most altered her appearance. The girl's family might not recognize that fact, but Hester did. The changes to her clothing were all well and good. But it was the confidence they lent the girl, the belief in herself, that made the greatest difference.
Dulcie Bennett had never thought herself beautiful, nor even passably pretty. But tonight she believed it, and so tonight she was beautiful. There was a proud tilt to her...
