Up until this point, Irene’s nicest dress had been made of the softest linen, with delicate embroidery sewn along the hem and sleeves. It had been a day dress, but a nice dress nonetheless, and extremely well suited for the fanciest occasions that she had needed to attend. Up until now.
The evening had started fairly regularly, with Irene getting ready for tea and making sure Bear had been fed. She had just stored away the last of her sketches for the day when she heard her name being cried in distress from downstairs. And once Irene had hurried down to meet her cousin, Cecilia had lamented that she had just lost her companion for the benefit she was attending that night. Thinking it was going to be something casual, Irene had readily offered her presence since it seemed to really be something that her cousin had looked forward to.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Which was how she ended up in a spectacular gossamer dress that absolutely dripped with gold. And of course, it was a masquerade, so she had been given a gold lace mask whose appearance resembled that of a fox, with golden ears and a spiraling lattice design down the center of the nose. Once she’d brought it up to her face, the mask had magically stayed on and was quite comfortable. The entire ensemble was actually more comfortable than Irene had thought it would be. Though she much preferred her day-to-day corset, the one she had been laced into was certainly more structured; rigid, but not terribly so. And looking in the mirror, she was able to move quite fluidly, and the dress seemed to follow her movements as if it was made out of water.
It was easily the most extravagant outfit she’d ever worn, and Irene had more than once asked cousin Cecilia if she would be overdressed (her cousin, for her part, was dressed in a lovely silver gown that rippled behind her like a fish’s scales on a tail, and wore a matching silver mask to complete it). Every single time she’d asked, Cecilia had responded with an airy ‘Oh my dear, no not at all. These Italian debutantes and socialites are not afraid of glitz and glamor, and neither should you!’ (It wasn’t that Irene was afraid of it, she’d just never had the money to afford something like this.) Sure enough, when they entered the ballroom, Irene’s appearance might have been reduced to a casual day dress after all. The women around her were beautiful, made even more so by the extravagance of their ensembles. Feathers, jewels, all amounted to a great deal more than she’d just inherited over the summer, it was almost laughable. Having been thus mollified, Irene was content to enjoy her night by Cecilia’s side. It was all quite routine despite the setting; quite a lot of how-do-you-do’s, chatting about her work, and she had even been asked to dance by the nephew of one of the benefactors. She’d suspected it was out of obligation than anything, but was still grateful for having been asked. Plus, she had to admit the man had been a marvelous lead (not that she’d know much about that sort of thing).
After the dance was when Irene finally felt she had to catch her breath, and she made her way over to a refreshment table to grab a glass of elderflower punch before depositing herself at a nearby pillar; it might as well have been a work of art in itself, for how beautiful she found the lines to be. It was while she was admiring the sculpture work that Irene felt someone’s eyes on her and she turned to see a man in front of her. Overcome by the excitement and glamor of it all, she grinned and shrugged (a most unladylike thing to do, she’d been told) merrily. “I don’t believe so,” She responded breezily. “I’m hardly a regular in these types of settings, and I’m not from around here.”
The evening had started fairly regularly, with Irene getting ready for tea and making sure Bear had been fed. She had just stored away the last of her sketches for the day when she heard her name being cried in distress from downstairs. And once Irene had hurried down to meet her cousin, Cecilia had lamented that she had just lost her companion for the benefit she was attending that night. Thinking it was going to be something casual, Irene had readily offered her presence since it seemed to really be something that her cousin had looked forward to.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Which was how she ended up in a spectacular gossamer dress that absolutely dripped with gold. And of course, it was a masquerade, so she had been given a gold lace mask whose appearance resembled that of a fox, with golden ears and a spiraling lattice design down the center of the nose. Once she’d brought it up to her face, the mask had magically stayed on and was quite comfortable. The entire ensemble was actually more comfortable than Irene had thought it would be. Though she much preferred her day-to-day corset, the one she had been laced into was certainly more structured; rigid, but not terribly so. And looking in the mirror, she was able to move quite fluidly, and the dress seemed to follow her movements as if it was made out of water.
It was easily the most extravagant outfit she’d ever worn, and Irene had more than once asked cousin Cecilia if she would be overdressed (her cousin, for her part, was dressed in a lovely silver gown that rippled behind her like a fish’s scales on a tail, and wore a matching silver mask to complete it). Every single time she’d asked, Cecilia had responded with an airy ‘Oh my dear, no not at all. These Italian debutantes and socialites are not afraid of glitz and glamor, and neither should you!’ (It wasn’t that Irene was afraid of it, she’d just never had the money to afford something like this.) Sure enough, when they entered the ballroom, Irene’s appearance might have been reduced to a casual day dress after all. The women around her were beautiful, made even more so by the extravagance of their ensembles. Feathers, jewels, all amounted to a great deal more than she’d just inherited over the summer, it was almost laughable. Having been thus mollified, Irene was content to enjoy her night by Cecilia’s side. It was all quite routine despite the setting; quite a lot of how-do-you-do’s, chatting about her work, and she had even been asked to dance by the nephew of one of the benefactors. She’d suspected it was out of obligation than anything, but was still grateful for having been asked. Plus, she had to admit the man had been a marvelous lead (not that she’d know much about that sort of thing).
After the dance was when Irene finally felt she had to catch her breath, and she made her way over to a refreshment table to grab a glass of elderflower punch before depositing herself at a nearby pillar; it might as well have been a work of art in itself, for how beautiful she found the lines to be. It was while she was admiring the sculpture work that Irene felt someone’s eyes on her and she turned to see a man in front of her. Overcome by the excitement and glamor of it all, she grinned and shrugged (a most unladylike thing to do, she’d been told) merrily. “I don’t believe so,” She responded breezily. “I’m hardly a regular in these types of settings, and I’m not from around here.”
![[Image: 9EDhNw4.png]](https://i.imgur.com/9EDhNw4.png)