Marian gasped as her mother pulled the laces on the back of her bodice closed. "Mama – did you have to make the costume so tight? I won't be able to breathe!"

"This was all your idea, remember?" Mrs. Paroo said, amused. "I just went by the picture you showed me."

But her mother went back and loosened the strings a bit. Marian took a grateful gulp of air and reached for her fan, thinking a stream of fresh air to her face would help. No wonder women fainted all the time in those days! she thought.

Marian's inspiration for her costume had been the beautiful sky-blue, gold-embroidered gown worn by Marie Antoinette in The Young Queen painting by Lie Louis Périn-Salbreux. But when the librarian had come up with the idea of being Marie Antoinette, she hadn't considered the necessity of period-appropriate undergarments. Marian wished she could just wear her normal corset beneath her gown, but she couldn't – her silhouette would be all wrong.

It was eight o'clock on the night before the Halloween masque, and Harold was due to arrive at eight thirty to escort her to the high school gymnasium for a final rehearsal of the minuet they were planning to perform at the ball. Ethel Toffelmier would also be present at this rehearsal, as she had agreed to run the player piano for them.

"There you go!" Mrs. Paroo said happily as she finished up the lacing and smoothed out a few remaining wrinkles in the fabric of Marian's train. "Why don't you turn for me, darling?"

Marian obliged and gave a little twirl, the skirt of her gown flowing gracefully around her. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she gave a little gasp of wonder. Her bodice may have been a bit uncomfortable, but the costume was gorgeous!

"That's a pretty dress, sister!" a blithe voice rang out from the hall.

She turned to see Winthrop standing in the doorway, clothed in the garb of a knight. While Marian was at the gymnasium, Mrs. Paroo planned to put the finishing touches on his costume.

Marian smiled. She had expected Winthrop to choose a pirate or cowboy, or something equally rough and tumble, but he had surprised her by electing to be a knight of the Round Table. "Thank you, Winthrop," she said, beaming. "And I see your knight costume is almost ready."

"I'm not just any old knight," he informed her with his charming lisp. "I'm Sir Lancelot du Lac!"

"Is that so?" she gently teased. "This doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Amaryllis is going as Lady Guinevere, does it?" At one of Amaryllis' previous piano lessons – which Winthrop just happened to be present for – the girl had excitedly chattered to Marian about her costume.

Instead of blushing and squirming, as would have been usual, Winthrop rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Oh, sister, wherever did you get such a silly idea?"

Mrs. Paroo chuckled. "Been taking lessons from Professor Hill, have you, dear?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the boy said with dignity. "Mother, sister – I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"Of course, darling," Mrs. Paroo replied, her expression serious.

Giving the ladies a polite nod, Winthrop departed. After he had gone, Marian and her mother looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"I must say, that was uncanny!" Mrs. Paroo chortled, wiping her eyes once they had settled down.

"Yes, it was," Marian said with a wry grin. "I think I need to have a little talk with Professor Hill and find out what else he's been teaching my brother. Speaking of Harold – what time is it?"

Mrs. Paroo looked at her watch. "Eight thirty-five."

Marian gasped. "What am I still doing up here? He could be knocking at the door right now!" She started to exit her bedroom, but forgot to account for the width of her voluminous gown – she ended up knocking a vase off an end table as she brushed by it. When Marian turned to assess the damage – her skirt swirling around wildly – a perfume bottle on the vanity opposite the end table fell to the floor with a crash.

"Mama, I'm so sorry!" she apologized, giving a frustrated laugh. "It's no wonder queens have servants – they can't do a thing in their fancy gowns, except pose for paintings!" Marian started to bend over – a task her stiff corset made quite difficult – but her mother put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"Let me handle it, darling – you'll just end up bringing the house down around our ears!" Mrs. Paroo scolded. "Besides, you don't want to be late for Professor Hill, do you?"

Adopting a statelier pace, Marian left her mother and descended down the stairs to the first floor. It was a good thing they were having a dress rehearsal before the masque; she really needed the practice! If she couldn't even manage to walk two steps without leaving catastrophe in her wake, how was she going to perform the intricate steps of the minuet with any sort of accuracy – let alone grace?

Fortunately, Marian managed to reach the parlor without further incident. Harold had indeed arrived already; he was seated in one of the wingback chairs and deep in conversation with Winthrop. But the moment she entered the room, Harold excused himself and went over to her.

"Oh, Miss Marian, you look wonderful!" he said admiringly.

She took his proffered hand. "I must say, I do feel like a queen in this gown."

Harold twirled her around. "Stunning," he pronounced. "Such grace – such regal bearing! Are you sure you're not descended from royalty, my dear librarian?"

"You are a flatterer, Professor Hill," Marian said, shaking her head. She looked at Harold, who was wearing the same suit as when she had seen him earlier that day. "Why aren't you wearing your costume?"

"Ethel Toffelmier is going to be at the gymnasium, isn't she?" he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "I know she swore up and down that she wouldn't reveal our costumes to a soul, but you know the first thing she'll do tomorrow morning is tell Mrs. Shinn and the other ladies everything. Why show her more than we have to?"

Marian laughed. "I agree – that's why I didn't bother with my hair or any unnecessary accessories."

"But who cares what she says?" Harold went on, casting a glance at Winthrop before leaning in and whispering, "Even if every woman in River City finds out every last detail of your costume beforehand, there's nothing any of them can do to outshine you – ever."

Harold had been complimenting Marian since his arrival, but now there was something decidedly fervent in his tone that made her feel lightheaded.

"Sister!" Winthrop cried, rushing over to her as she started to sway. Harold caught her before she fell to the floor.

Marian took a deep breath to steady herself. "This silly bodice," she said apologetically. "I think it's a bit too tight."

"Winthrop – why don't you get your sister a glass of water?" Harold suggested.

"Right!" the boy said promptly, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Even though the two of them were now alone, Harold spoke in a low voice. "Forgive me for broaching such a delicate topic – but are you wearing a grand corps corset?"

Marian blushed and nodded.

"Your attention to detail and historical accuracy is admirable," Harold began, "but have you thought of – going without?"

She backed away from him, scandalized. "Professor Hill!"

"Now, hear me out," he persisted. "It's not well known, but for a brief period of time, Marie Antoinette wore no corset beneath her gowns. She found the grand corps too restrictive, and it took diplomatic intervention by the Austrian ambassador to convince her to resume wearing it on a regular basis."

Marian was both fascinated and appalled by the direction their conversation had taken. "Are you sure you aren't just telling me a tale?" she asked skeptically.

"No, it's the God's honest truth," he replied, his expression serious.

Her blush deepened. "Well, it's hardly a suitable topic of discussion."

"Well, excuse me if I don't want my beloved fainting on the dance floor!" Harold said in an affronted voice – though he winked at her.

Before she could issue a retort, Winthrop returned with the water.

"Well, what say we get going to the gymnasium?" Harold asked once Marian had drained her glass.

Marian nodded and handed the empty cup to her brother. "Thank you, Winthrop. Please say goodbye to Mama for me."

He regarded his sister with apprehensive eyes. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Don't worry, son, I'll take good care of your sister," Harold reassured the boy. "But now, we've really got to get going."

"Well, make sure you have her home by ten," Winthrop admonished.

Harold showed the child as much deference as he did Mrs. Paroo. "You have my word," he said with a little bow.

XXX

As the two of them glided around the gymnasium floor to Handel's Minuet from Berenice, Marian noted with relief that dancing in her Marie Antoinette gown turned out to be much easier than she had thought. As Harold had explained earlier, the minuet was invented in the French court; its steps formed especially to accommodate for the courtiers' elegant, but cumbersome, clothing.

"A childhood of dancing lessons – forced on me by my well-meaning mother – came in handy after all," Harold told her with a rueful smile.

In sharp contrast to the fast-paced, ragtime Shipoopi, the minuet was a slow, stately dance. But Marian's heart was racing just as much now as it had the warm summer night she danced the Shipoopi with Harold. There was something incredibly romantic about the leisurely music, the graceful turns and twirls, the clasping and unclasping of hands. When the two of them came close together, their eyes locked in a brief, intense gaze – which was made all the more electric by its abrupt end as they turned away from each other.

The song happened to come to a stop when Marian and Harold were standing inches apart, staring at each other. After a few moments, Marian realized she was gasping for breath, and struggled to regain her composure.

"Are you all right?" Harold asked. She noticed that his breathing was rather labored, as well.

Not trusting herself to speak, Marian nodded.

A burst of applause rang out; they turned to see Ethel Toffelmier gazing at them with a rapt expression. "Oh, that was just beautiful!" she sighed. "If there was a dance contest, you two would win it, for sure! And wait'll Mrs. Shinn and the others hear – I mean, see how lovely your costume is, Miss Paroo."

Marian and Harold exchanged a small smile. "Well, we couldn't have done it without you, Miss Toffelmier," Harold said appreciatively, making the woman beam with pleasure.

XXX

Harold was unusually quiet on the walk back to the Paroo house. At first, Marian didn't notice – she was too distracted by her own jumbled thoughts – but as soon as she realized how awkward the silence was, she felt compelled to fill it.

"Well, I think our rehearsal went pretty well, don't you?" Marian asked, trying to keep her voice light. "And you were right – Ethel Toffelmier is sure to tell Mrs. Shinn and the others everything as soon as she sees them tomorrow. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if she paid them all a visit tonight, she was so effusive with her compliments! Don't you agree, Harold… Harold?"

He slowly turned toward her, as if he was coming out of a stupor. "I'm sorry," he said contritely. "I didn't catch that last part. What did you say, sweetheart?"

Knowing Harold hadn't heard any of what she said, Marian gave him an indulgent smile. "Nothing important, darling. I was just remarking on how successful the evening turned out to be."

"Mmm," he agreed, lapsing back into his daze.

So Marian fell silent and just let Harold be. But as they walked along, she watched him out of the corners of her eyes. Marian noted with some concern that in addition to looking preoccupied, he also looked tired – almost haggard. She wondered if he was stretching himself too thin with all his activities; he certainly had the look of a man who had been burning the candle at both ends.

"Well, here we are," Marian announced once they had reached her front gate.

Her statement seemed to stir something in Harold – all of a sudden he was standing face to face with Marian, giving her that ardent, heated look he saved for times when they were truly alone together.

She started to feel faint again; Harold threw his arms around her. "Marian!"

"I'm all right," she assured him, though her voice was a bit strained.

Harold still didn't let go of her. Instead, he just looked at her as if he wanted to tell her something – something important. "Marian, I – " he began, and then faltered.

"Yes?" she asked, breathless with anticipation.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, as if he couldn't find the right words with which to express himself. As Marian marveled at his speechlessness, he leaned in and crushed his mouth against hers.

Harold had never before kissed her with such ferocious intensity, not even when they were alone together on the footbridge. His embrace had been heartfelt, of course, but Marian had always sensed he held something back. Now Harold seemed to have no such reserve. And if Marian was helpless in his arms before, she was doubly so now. She couldn't end their kiss, not even when she felt her legs start to give way. Harold, being his usual obliging self, tightened his arms around her waist so she wouldn't fall.

Marian wasn't sure how long she had been standing there, clinging to Harold as he gave her the most passionate of kisses, when a pointed voice broke into their reverie.

"Well, so much for decorum!"

Mrs. Paroo was standing on the front porch, regarding them with stern eyes.

"Mama!" Marian gasped.

But Mrs. Paroo ignored her and turned to Harold. "Would you like to explain just what's going on here, Professor Hill?" she asked severely.

Again, he seemed to be at a loss for words. "Forgive me, Mrs. Paroo, Miss Marian," he finally said, and took his leave.

Once he had gone, Mrs. Paroo shifted her attention to her daughter. Marian gazed wordlessly back at her mother, unable to disguise with a neutral facial expression the tumult of emotion she was feeling.

Mrs. Paroo let out a sigh and put an arm around her trembling daughter. "Come on, let's get you out of that dress and ready for bed. We've all got a big day tomorrow!"

XXX

A/N – Harold's story about Marie Antoinette's corset – or lack thereof – is supposedly true. Apparently, the grand corps corset was really that terrible. Just thought you'd like to know that little fun fact!