As bad as the everyday clothes are, Emma finds the wardrobe of an Edwardian dinner party is even worse.
It's not as if the dress she's been given—another hand-me-down, she assumes—isn't beautiful. It is. The periwinkle-colored silk falls to her ankles like water, and part of her wonders if her mother ever wore anything like this in her time in the Enchanted Forest. But even clad in the gorgeous dress, Emma still feels more like an ugly duckling than anything else, and the same insecurities that had plagued her in middle school seem to have cropped up again as the maid, Beth, puts the finishing touches on whatever elaborate updo she has managed to wrangle Emma's hair into. She knows she shouldn't be so nervous at the prospect of meeting Matthew's relatives—she's faced far worse than this, she's the goddamn Savior, she's fought a dragon—but she can't help the butterflies that are making her nervous stomach churn. The idea of meeting English aristocracy in the past is something that she never even considered a possibility—even for the magical daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.
What if they take one look at me and know I'm not who I say I am?
"That looks marvellous, Beth, thank you," says a voice from behind them, and Emma almost jumps. She'd almost forgotten about Matthew's mother entirely, although she'd been observing Beth get Emma ready for what was bound to be an eventful occasion. "Simply marvelous. Thank you, my dear."
"It was nothing, mum," Beth says, but she looks pleased to have her work complimented. "Will there be anything else?"
"No, that will be all. Please inform Mr. Crawley that Miss Swan and I will be ready to go shortly."
The maid curties and leaves, and then it is only Emma and Isobel. Emma tries to meet the woman's stare with one of her own, but her gaze wavers. Why is it that these mild-mannered English seem to be striking more fear into her heart than Zelena and her threats ever did?
"Well," Isobel says, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. "It's quite the transformation, I will admit."
"Thanks."
"But my dear, listen to me. You do realize you are entering the lion's den?"
Emma's brow furrows. "Huh? I mean, what?"
"Oh, my dear. Trust me. These people seem to take an immediate dislike to anything new or unusual, and you are both. Now, I'm sure you'll win them over in the end, but at least at first, try not to draw too much attention to yourself. I'll do my best to give a reasonable explanation as to why you're here. I'm not quite sure what we'll do about Matthew, but I'm working it out."
"I…I still don't know what you mean."
"Miss Swan, do you really think the Crawley family is going to buy your little story about getting lost on your horse?"
Oh, shit.
"Don't worry, I won't ask you for the truth just yet. You have your reasons for hiding it, I have no doubt. I'll say that I'm a long-lost acquaintance of your mother's, or something. Matthew would most likely believe that if we spun it well enough. Oh, don't look so shocked, my dear!" She reaches out and puts her hand on Emma's upper arm. Emma jerks at the touch, but does not flinch away entirely. Somehow, the touch seems comforting. "You are not in any danger, I promise you. I've just always been good at figuring out when someone is lying to me."
"No kidding? I'm the same way."
"Then it seems we have something in common, my dear. Don't you worry, I won't be leaving you to fend for yourself. Come, let's not keep my son waiting any longer."
She offers her arm, and after a moment's hesitation, Emma takes it.
"And Emma? You do look very beautiful."
They go downstairs, Emma already wincing at the way the shoes pinch her feet, longing for the mud-caked boots she hasn't seen since she came to Crawley House. They find Matthew eagerly awaiting them at the bottom of the stairs. Emma can't help but notice the way his eyebrows raise when he sees her..and can't help the little thrill of satisfaction that accompanies the sight.
"I was wondering what was taking the two of you so long, but now I see. You look…"
He seems at a loss for words.
"Wonderful, Miss Swan." His voice seems to have deepened, and Emma hates the heat that she feels rising to her face. She can't get attached to these people, no matter how kind they've been to her. She knows better than that.
"Thank you, Mr. Crawley."
"Mother mentioned that you might be a bit nervous for tonight, but I can assure you that you have friends here. I won't abandon you in there, Miss Swan."
For some reason, that makes her smile.
