With the Midfords being as popular as they were, it was only natural that they received bountiful invitations to parties held by others for all sorts of occasions. With Edward home, the invitations seemed to only double in amount.
Sieglinde had to wonder as the marquis debated over the merit of attending one gathering over the other; how many parties could the people of this world enjoy? Did they not grow tired of dressing fancy and either visiting others, or working to host?
But it was only polite to attend, and so the Midfords chose one dinner held by a fellow British Knight of Lord Midford's.
It would be, Sieglinde was told, a simple, small-scale dinner party. She had been invited as well.
After some deliberation, she said that she would attend. Normally she would have turned down the invitation as politely as she could, making excuses about poor health or prior engagements, but the last party she had attended had been pleasant, and she had enjoyed it. Perhaps parties weren't as bad as she had initially judged them to be.
The seamstress Nina Hopkins was called in for her talented services, and Sieglinde marvelled as she unleashed her skill. Sebastian, after making her an example of a modern, outside-world outfit for her out of her bedspread, had humbly said that his skills paled in comparison to a professional's. At the time she had thought he was being humble, and he was, but when Nina Hopkins was placed in the equation that polite humility became truth. The woman was a demon when her work became involved, and nothing short of heaven or hell would stop her.
Sieglinde liked her. At their first meeting the woman had showered her with compliments of all sorts about her hair, skin, face and features and promised her the best of her work to really make her shine.
That had been enough to warm her up to the seamstress, but the skilled woman had truly earned her favour when, at the sight of her bound feet, Nina had embraced her with all the fierce warmth of a friend before chirping that she would work double time to make a dress even a princess would be jealous of. She hadn't tried to politely pretend that she had seen nothing like some people had done upon sighting her feet, or made a fuss to hide her disgusted reaction. She had reacted with empathy and concern, and those reactions had been genuine.
Sieglinde appreciated that about Nina.
Now Nina delivered on her promise again. Lizzie was stunning in a silver dress with golden trims; Edward was sharply dressed in a suit that seemed to have been sewn on him; and as for Sieglinde herself, Nina had created a magnificent masterpiece of an emerald gown the same shade as her eyes. The seamstress had outright forbidden her from black gowns unless the situation was dire, claiming that she needed more colour and calling her Snow White.
Sieglinde, personally, thought she would be more of a Cinderella, what with her small feet and custom made shoes no one else would be able to fit into unless they mutilated their own feet, but deeply appreciated Nina's words nonetheless. That woman had a heart of gold and a soul of silver. She watched Nina and Edward's one-sided debate that resulted in the older woman baring her bare legs for all present to see, and Edward stuttering and blushing like mad with great glee, cackling sometimes when the urge to laugh became too great. Lizzie joined her in laughing, and the two giggled for a very long time, even after Nina had left with a cheerful toodles.
Then it was the day of the dinner, and she was in the carriage with Lizzie and Edward. The marquis and marchioness were already there, having made a detour that ended up becoming a shortcut.
Sieglinde glanced out of the carriage window. The manor they were rolling up at was smaller than the one owned by the Midfords, but it was clearly well-cared for, and beautiful in its own way. And, she noted, there was a large herb garden just off to the side.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and the Midford footman helped Lizzie and her out. She grimaced at the stretch of gravel to the front door, and had half a heart to call the footman back so he could help her to the door. Once she was at the door, she would stay within one general area or find a place to sit. That much, she thought she could manage on her own.
Edward took her arm. "Well, let's not keep our hosts waiting," he said in a cheerful voice. In his grip on her arm was a promise to not let her fall.
Sieglinde went with it, and after a giggle Lizzie did so as well. The blonde, though, didn't stop smiling in their direction.
Edward was a bit red by the time they were in the hall, but he held his head high and escorted her to her seat, pulling it out for her before taking his own seat placed away from hers and starting up a conversation with one of the hosts.
There were eyes on her, and it wasn't because she was – supposedly, 'officially' – related to the known-but-not-often-present Lord Diedrich, she knew that. To confirm her suspicions, she glanced at the marchioness and the marquis being chatted up by the host, and found the former looking as stoic as she usually did, but the latter beaming in her and Edward's direction.
The lady of the household was a cheerful woman, and she dragged Lizzie and her into a conversation about the latest fashions. Sieglinde, in an effort to work on her communications skill, offered a few polite comments and questions about colours, styles and preferences, but let Lizzie take over. The girl was in her element, eyes shining and sparkling as she practically exhaled enthusiasm. Listening to her, Sieglinde found herself wondering what chiffon felt like, and whether the lace she was partial to would go with it.
Dinner was wonderful; roast beef with a sweet red sauce, potatoes made beautifully smooth, greens both fresh and cooked to tenderness with tangy herbs. For dessert, they moved to the parlour.
When she stood up from the dinner table, Edward had all but leapt from his seat, abandoning the son of the host he had been talking to in favour of taking her arm to support her. She had smiled at him and he had smiled back, and then, his arm warm against the crook of hers even through the fabric of their clothes, he had taken her to the dining room and made sure she was comfortably seated with a satisfactory dessert of her own before taking leave with a polite bow of his head. Always the gentleman.
Lizzie giggled into her cake. When Sieglinde had – indignantly, blushing for a reason she wasn't sure she wanted to identify – asked her what was so funny to her, the older girl merely shook her head and changed the topic. "It's a nice cake," she said, gesturing slightly with her fork at the slice of cake. Then she lowered her voice to not let the hosting family pick up on her next words. "But I think Sebastian's ruined all other sweets for me."
Sieglinde had to agree to that. Ciel's butler was just too talented for his own good.
And then the hostess joined them again, and somehow the conversation turned from fashion to wedding dresses to weddings. "I have Ciel," Lizzie said, simply, loyally. Sieglinde admired that about the girl, just how devoted she was to her fiancé.
The hostess said a few kind words about the Earl of Phantomhive – Sieglinde wondered if the woman knew that the thirteen year old boy she found adorable was the Queen's Watchdog who had gone through more than she would ever see in her entire life – before turning to her. "And you, dear?"
It wouldn't have been a question out of sorts. In fact, it sounded like one asked to be polite, because by asking her about a fiancé the lady was including her in the conversation instead of leaving her out.
Except, well, her tone and her expectant gaze made it rather clear that the question hadn't been asked for the sake of politeness, but from genuine curiosity.
Marriage? She had once considered a lot of what she now had been taught to classify as 'inappropriate', but marriage hadn't come into her mind very often. It hadn't been taught very much in the forest's village where there were only women and Wolf, and once she had arrived in Britain with a new identity she had been just too busy learning about the new world she was thrust into and learning information in terms unrelated to magic to actually consider such things, other than to understand the basics of societal expectations.
"I'm not betrothed," she answered, and definitely saw a flash of surprise flit across the woman's face.
It passed, and a few minutes later the lady called her son over to introduce them properly. He was a nice young man, with decent looks and a pleasant enough voice. He asked her how different she found Britain from Germany, and she managed to answer the question without giving anything important away – like how she wouldn't really know, because for most of her life she had lived in a lie until recent years – before she turned the tables on him. Once she got him talking about himself, she didn't have to worry about her tongue slipping.
When they returned home, she found that she couldn't quite remember the specifics of the young man's face. It had been nice enough to look at, she reflected as she gave her feet their daily soak in warm water, but bland enough to be forgotten easily. There wasn't a sort of radiance present in his countenance, something memorable enough for her to remember without trying, like the sun burning its silhouette into her eyes when she tried to stare it down. All the other significant men in her life, even Lord Diedrich whom she had only met briefly before being shipped to Britain, had been memorable.
But then again, she thought wryly, wiggling her feet in the cooling water. She knew very few men at all. Sebastian and Ciel; Edward and the Marquis; the Indian Prince Soma and his butler Agni; Lord Diedrich; the Chinese man Lau; Wolf –
She stopped moving her feet. Not bound constantly and put in shoes as loose as possible, they were a bit bigger than they had been back in her time as the Green Witch. The difference wasn't visible to her eye unless she placed her foot next to one of her old shoes – something she hadn't quite been able to throw out for the sake of sentimentalities – but they were definitely loosening.
The doctor who had seen her feet was an optimist. He said that because she was so young, there was a better chance of recovery.
Sieglinde doubted that they would ever be normal, but she could hope to walk without wincing or being forced to rely on someone for their help all the time. It gave her a sense of helplessness, and the feeling of responsibility her time as the Green Witch had not left her even as she knew the truth.
Not that it wasn't nice, getting Edward's – or another's – help; she just didn't want to be helpless. She wanted to be like Lizzie – confident, able to fight and defend herself.
an1: I swear that this story is not always about partying the plot picks up in later chapters I promise.
an2: thank my spiking cortisol levels for this chapter being uploaded early.
an3: of course Sieglinde met Lau and Soma Ciel needed to make sure she adjusted. Lau = help with treating bound feet, Soma = need someone with warm personality to make her open up other than Midfords. Or so I say.