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Chapter XVII - The Picture-Perfect Gown

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Everything in Dublin was gray—unlike Athena's tiny hometown, where everything was brown. The horse carriages; the muddy, rocky, wet streets; the people; the clothes. It was all gray, mists everywhere, with people hurrying about while thunderstorms clapped over their heads. Perhaps that's why Aunt Helena liked it so much—because it was becoming like London.

Athena followed suit behind her aunt and cousins, her pupils tracking the swivels of deep gray and purple robes streaming down her aunt's back. The robes and ribbons billowed, bouncing up and down on the mucky walkway, though somehow not the least bit wet. The girl's cousins—Margie and Rubina—traveled on the left and right side of their mother. Margie stuck her nose in the air, eyes shut tight, lips painted and cheeks pinched red, while Rubina's eyes grazed over the horse carriages, preying on the youthful men riding therein. Athena noted how the young men in the carriages tensed their shoulders, wrung their hands together, and blushed after Rubina smiled and nodded at them.

Not one of them spoke a word. Athena dared not lift her head from her aunt's frame, afraid she would turn down a wrong alleyway or step in front of a horse carriage if she strayed too far.

"Ooh… Mummy, look!" Rubina pointed at a shop on the street corner. "I've never seen it before. It must be new! May we go in, please?!" the girl begged. She bounced up and down like a toddler, although she was a couple of years Athena's senior. If I were bouncing up and down in such a manner, Aunt Helena'd have my head, Athena thought, groaning silently.

"Of course, darling, as long as you take your cousin in there with you. Remember, she is not familiar with the town yet, and we don't want her getting lost, now do we?" Aunt Helena grinned, turning to face Athena, her lips the color of dark blood—so red it was purple.

"Yes, mother!" Rubina called, taking Athena and Margie by their hands. "Let's go, shall we?"

Margie broke away from the grasp and declared, "I shan't go in. I prefer to run errands with Mother."

"Fine, have it your way." Rubina glared at her sister. "Athena and I will have all the fun then."

Margie and Aunt Helena disappeared into the street fog—two black forms becoming less and less black with each step until they merged with the gray. Rubina grasped Athena tighter around the wrist and carried her into the store. Athena blew in the wind like a ragdoll.

Once in the shop, and free of her cousin's grasp, Athena dusted herself off and rubbed her wrists, relieving the pain.

"Oh… my!" Rubina exclaimed, dancing around the shop.

"What is it?"

Athena looked up for the first time that morning.
"Isn't it wonderful, Athena?!"

The girl walked as her mother on morning strolls—breathing in the air of the shop just as her mother breathed in the air of the forest. That fresh scent, not of flowers and tree sap, but of linen and brand new clothes.

"Athena? Are you alright?"

"Yes… It's just—I've never seen such lovely gowns before."

"Oh!" Rubina smiled, closing her eyes and her cheeks filling with a deep red color.

Eventually, both young women pranced around the shop, trying on every dress—no matter the color, size, make, nor embellishments. The great majority of gowns garnered inspiration from the fashion of France, with slim fits and high necklines. Colors of all kinds, like bursts of butterflies in the forest when you brush past trees, glimmered throughout the shop. Everywhere Athena stepped, new colors splashed in her face. Most were the colors of spring—blues, pinks, and yellows—with it being early June. For the first time, Athena felt at home in Dublin.

"Oh, Rubina, I would just love to buy one of these!" Athena exclaimed, swiveling around in a dark pink, almost red, dress.

Rubina laughed. "Athena, there is so much you must learn."

Athena's smile fell; she let go of the skirts of the dress. "What do you mean?"

"You must learn how to shop with Mother! She has plenty of money to pay for whatever dress you want or however many you want! But she only buys the one she thinks looks good on you—even if you don't like it."

Athena smirked, trotting around like a filly, glancing in all the mirrors of the shop. "Her money means nothing to me. I've got money of me own," she spoke, fixing her honey ringlets and staring into her bright blue eyes.

"Really?" Rubina placed her hands on her hips. "From whom? Surely your father isn't paying for it?"

Athena curled her face up, wrinkled her nose, and dug her fingernails into her gown. And to think, I had only just begun to like her… Now I remember why both Margie and Rubina are spoiled, selfish—

"Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!" a man shouted in the distance, a very French man. "Please, I beg of you! Do not ruin that fabric with your nails."

Athena lifted her eyes from the mirror, turning around to find a medium-sized and middle-aged man, with long arms like a tape measure or a thread. His pants were pulled up to his waist, fitted perfectly around his midriff, and his blonde, luscious hair fell neatly over his scalp. He wore a long yellow piece of measuring tape around his neck as though it were a shawl. The man was not particularly muscular, except for his hands, which had seen many years of tailoring.

"I apologize, Sir. I did not realize I was doing anything."

"It is no problem, mademoiselle!" he called, breathing in a sigh of relief. "That is an expensive fabric." He bowed, then adjusted the tape around his neck. "Now, what can I do for you two young angéliques this morning?"

"We were only browsing the shop. I've never seen this—"

"I would like to purchase a custom-made gown, Sir."

"Athena!" Rubina pulled her cousin to the side, whispering, "What are you doing?"

The man cleared his throat, hushing Rubina. "Oh, it is no problem, mademoiselle! I have designed plenty of custom-made gowns in the past! Do not fret." The man trotted over to the girls. "Please, call me Henri," he spoke, his "R" gurgling in the back of his throat. The man then placed a kiss on both of their hands but held his lips longer on Athena's.

"Why, thank you… Henri. Did I say that right?" Rubina blushed.

"No, it's 'Henri', without the 'H' sound and more like the word 'on'," Athena corrected.

"Ooh… what a smart one we have here. You say your name is Athena?"

"Yes.."

"Lovely. Just lovely. I've never met anyone with a name quite like that before."

"Thank you, Henri." Athena smiled.

"Now then, shall we begin discussing designs for your custom-made dress?"

"Of course!" He motioned for Athena to take his arm, and the girl followed accordingly. Rubina huffed, crossing her arms. Once out of earshot, Athena whispered, "You'll have to excuse my cousin, Rubina. She is used to being the center of attention."

Henri burst into laughter, opening his mouth tall and wide. "You're an honest one then, aren't you?!" He rubbed his forehead with a handkerchief.

"As honest as I can be." Athena grinned, though only lifting one corner of her mouth.

"Now then," Henri pulled back two sets of curtains, "shall we begin?"

Athena walked into the room of multiple fabrics—satin, cotton, velvet. Ranging from inexpensive to only fabrics royals might wear, the shop had it all. "My, my, what a selection you have, Henri!" she said, running her hands over strands of scarlet material.

"Thank you, mademoiselle! I purchase only the finest fabrics." He spoke, leaning onto a table.

"How long have you been here? In Dublin, I mean."

"I have just moved from Paris to Dublin, mademoiselle! I had a dress shop there, but had to move here to be with… mon amour." He glanced off into the distance. "The love of my life is in this town. I left my entire well-being in Paris to come here. Sometimes, love decides the direction of your life for you." Henri ran his fingers up and down his tape measurer.

"Oh, you must really love her then!" Athena called.

"Yes, I do," he said, turning away.

"What is her name?"

"Her… name? I'm—not sure, mademoiselle…."

"You're not sure?" Athena furrowed her brows.

"I only met her once… She came to my shop in Paris and I fell in love with her then and there! It was so easy to do because she was so lovely with the way she spoke. So tender with her words. She said she loved dressmaking and complimented me so on my work but—" His eyes fell. "I never caught her name. Only her accent. I knew she was from Dublin. So, I followed her here, hoping she might come in. But I have never seen her again…."

"I'm so sorry, Henri. Perhaps, I could help you look for her. I will be staying in Dublin for a few months."

"Do you not live here? Oh, you must live in London! I hear the accent—same with your cousin."

"No, Sir, I live in a village not too far away from here, but my father is a Londoner, and so is my aunt. They moved here around twenty years ago."

"Ah… I see. And your mother?"

"She is a native of the village. She knows how to speak Gaelic actually, but I do not."

"Oh, how interesting." He looked away. "I digress, mademoiselle. What would you like for your custom-made gown? Colors? Patterns? I have several appliqué you can browse through over here—"

Athena walked in the opposite direction, toward a large book sitting on a shelf. It was open on a page obtaining the most perfect gown she had ever laid eyes upon.

"What about this one?" she asked.

"Oh, that's just a sketch, mademoiselle. I don't know if I will make it or not. Besides, even if I started on it this very minute, it would be until October before I finished!"

She pirouetted around to face him, smirking. "October it is then."

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"Where is the girl? Why is she taking so long?!" Mr. Everleigh shouted.

"It's the gown, Sir! It will be a few more moments," Rubina exclaimed from the dressing room.

"Well, the photographer won't wait forever!" Charles Everleigh floated over to the man, his hands clasped together, smiling. "Please, just a few more moments, Sir. I apologize for taking up so much of your time."

The photographer sat on an elaborate settee beside his prized possession—an enormous camera, held up by a few stilts, with a blanket covering the lens. He frowned, his long mustache digging into his wrinkles. "As long as you pay me for the squandered time, I'll take as long as you need."

Mr. Everleigh's smile faltered ever so slightly, while one eye twitched. "Rubina! Helena! Athena! Hurry up in there!"

"We are!" Aunt Helena called, not even the slightest bit of panic lining her voice.

The remainder of the family—Margie, Mrs. Everleigh, all the children—sat around on each lounge chair and settee that Aunt Helena's living room had to offer. Most rested their heads on their chins, but one of the youngest girls leaned up against Mrs. Everleigh, dozing. Isolde petted her daughter's hair.

Soon, scuffling could be heard throughout the hallways, like pine needles scraping across the floor. Everyone—even the children who had fallen asleep—came alive at the sound of the ruffling skirts. A radiant burst of light, the first rays of dawn, shot out of the bedroom. Red and gold.

"Annie?!" Each child's head shot up, rushing to greet their sister whom they hadn't seen in months. They crowded around the bedroom.

"Ach!" shouted Mr. Everleigh, throwing his hands over his head. "Now we'll have to wrangle them up, too!"

Margie shot her nose up in the air, huffing at the children's—and their father's—behavior.

A silence descended upon the room, like dusk falling over the forest, hushing all the animals. Morning and night echoed at the same time within the same room.

A dazzling red shoe stepped out, prodding the children to move out of the way. Following the shoe were dark red skirts, flowing as smooth as wine straight out of the bottle. Thick layers upon even thicker layers billowed across the floor, bouncing and bouncing, swirling like a storm. A few layers of deep green ribbons spiraled around the red skirts—vines from which the wine grapes fell. The bodice fashioned the finest of appliqué: red roses dancing about in green thorns and vines, in an almost Celtic pattern, like the patchwork Mrs. Everleigh had seen some odd years before, but it was undoubtedly French handiwork. The gown barely reached Athena's shoulders, pieces of red wine fabric clinging to her bare arms—hardly suitable for a family picture.

None of the other outfits in the room compared to Athena's—all drab even in their best clothes. Mrs. Everleigh wore a gown she made herself, looking like a tall old wise tree in the forest. Mr. Everleigh wore a dark, monochrome suit without accents and embellishments. The rest of the children had on the outfits their mother made for them, with the colors she picked for them. And, of course, Aunt Helena, her signature purple; Margie, her deep blue and black; and Rubina, her pastels.

"Ya look like Father o' Christmas threw up on ya," Athena's oldest brother spoke, his lips curled in disgust.
"Oh, hush up!" Aunt Helena shouted, quieting the boy. "Now, did I promise you a lady, or what, dear brother?"

Mr. Everleigh removed his hand from his mouth, his eyes bursting with red. "Athena… you're all—" he choked, stifling back tears. "... grown-up." He wiped his face off with his sleeve.

Aunt Helena leaned over, whispering to her niece. "Now, that's the reaction I was hoping for." Athena only nodded.

Mrs. Everleigh stood up from her resting position, striding toward her daughter. "Athena, this highly inappropriate and ya know it. Go put on one o' da dresses I made for ya, now." Her eyes tore the dress open like a hawk shredding the guts out of its prey.

Athena faltered, shaking, crumbling under her attacker's weight—until Aunt Helena squeezed in-between the two of them.

"Pardon, dear sister, I approved Athena's gown." She spoke without hesitation, as cheerful as a wicked cat after eating dinner, purring. "I believe she is the best-dressed out of all of us in the room, and she should be the best-dressed, after all! This is her homecoming party! Now, let's all settle down and pose for the kind gentleman, shall we?" She motioned toward the photographer.

After that, the man had had enough, after two hours of waiting and a confrontation. He gathered the entire family up, posed them, and shot the photograph in two seconds. Everyone frowned in it, except Aunt Helena, who wore a slight smile.

And in the dresser drawer of Athena's bedroom lie a slip of paper, detailing the instructions she had followed:

My dearest friend,

Take this sack of gold coins and purchase the most perfect gown in all of Dublin town. It must be exactly how you want it, with no influence from anyone else—or else don't bother to use my money.

Sir Claudius