"It's dirty," she groaned, flopping facedown onto the bed as though to demonstrate how hopeless her cause was.
"Well then, how about the gray watered silk dress?" Jean suggested mildly, now finished with her task and smoothing away some loose tendrils of brilliant red hair behind her ears. Kitty frowned.
"It makes me look at least ten years older," she grumbled. "And I most certainly have no intentions of looking like some old maid in front of that romantic Cajun." Jean tilted back her slender neck and laughed, reproving with mild amusement, "Kitty, you should know better than to assume that just because his ancestors were French he'll be a romantic person." Seeing the look on her baby sister's face and knowing that said sister was about to object, Jean quickly brought up her hand and remarked, "But, if you're going to insist, what do you think of wearing the blue dress?" Kitty pouted.
"I already wore that just last week," she pointed out. Jean shrugged helplessly.
"Fine then. How about the yellow one?"
"But that's an afternoon dress, not a morning one."
"All right, all right. Here, what do you think of the jade-green one with the hoop skirt and all the ribbons?"
"That," Rogue cut in, "would be mah dress." Kitty blushed, murmuring absently, "Then you wear it, Rogue, you'd look so pretty in it--it really brings out your eyes, and besides, green was never my color, anyway."
Rogue shrugged and began
to leave, figuring that any extra primping wasn't about to make her look
any prettier or more charming than she could possibly look without turning
into Jean, when at that moment Kitty happened to catch a glimpse of her
more petulant sister's appearance and gasped, squeaking out, "Why, Rogue--you've
dressed so carelessly without Miss Ororo's assistance!" Rogue's eyes instinctively
sought out the nearest mirror, and she realized that her younger sister
was right, she had put very little effort into her appearance. Her
dress was of a dull green velvet, certainly not tacky but nevertheless
not at the height of that year's fashion, either, and her bonnet hadn't
been tied carefully enough to prevent a few auburn-colored locks of hair
from escaping. As for perfumes and colognes, Rogue hadn't bothered to carry
even the simplest rose-scented sachet.
"I mean, your corset's a
mess--it makes your waist size look double your twenty inches!" Kitty was
fretting as, her own dress dilemma forgotten, quickly turned to Jean for
reinforcement. Jean shrugged helplessly, her glorious scarlet hair giving
off faint scents of lavender as she tilted her head before finally speaking,
"Kitty's got a point, Rogue, and you know how impolite it would be to greet
one of Papa's guests dressed so untidily." Rogue scowled, dangerously on
the verge of snapping and telling her older sister exactly what she thought
of her perfectly coifed hair and her always fashionable silk dresses and
her demure lavender-and-lilac-scented perfumes, before common sense inched
its way back into her head and she forced herself to swallow her angry
words and consent.
"All right, fine," Rogue
grumbled crossly. "If it will ease your conscience that Ah look and act
like the ideal lady, then Ah'll change mah dress." Kitty's face lit up,
and that famous happy smile which had charmed so many suitors shone dazzlingly
as she squealed, "Great, Jean will help you choose a new dress and sachet,
and I'll retie the stays of your corset, because God knows that you can
go down at least two more inches at the waist!" Rogue's eyes widened, and
she began to protest indignantly, "Now hold on a minute, what do you mean
two more inches, do you want to cut me in half or what...?!" Kitty, happily
turning a deaf ear to all protests, was already helping her out of her
prim green dress so that she could rework the stays on her corset, having
heard none of Rogue's heated protests.
"All right, Sis, hold on
to something," the pretty brunette warned cheerfully, positioning herself
behind Rogue and getting ready to start tightening away.
Rogue's eyes widened in alarm.
"Now wait just a minute,"
she started to protest, "Ah've had enough of corsets cutting into mah ribs,
and Ah'm not about to--ow!"
"I told you to hold on to
something so that it wouldn't hurt as much," Kitty reminded her in a carefree
voice, as Rogue scowled and bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying
out again.
"Kitty," she warned in a
deceptively low, calm voice, as her sister steadily began tightening the
corset down to a twenty-inch waistline, "if you tug and pull on mah stays
any longer, Ah'm going to faint!"
"Oh, nonsense," Kitty breezed
lightly. "I know you, Rogue--never fainted once in your life, and would
rather die first than start doing so! Now come on, I think I can pull this
corset down to nineteen inches!" Rogue's eyes widened at the prospect of
the corset becoming any more painfully tight than it already was.
"Kitty," she gasped, speaking
each word slowly, deliberately, since the air was beginning to get cut
off from her lungs by her tightening corset, "Ah'm serious this time, Ah
really will faint if you go below twenty inches!" Kitty ignored
what she said, and after fumbling around with the lacy stays, finally leaned
back to admire her masterpiece and announce grandly, "There! Nineteen-and-a-half
inches! Aren't you thankful that I've gotten you down to nineteen-and-a-half
inches after that atrocious twenty-two-inch waistline you had just a while
ago?" Rogue was wondering to herself whether she should paint her face
to bring back some color to her already magnolia-white cheeks; she was
sure that the corset had turned her face blue from lack of air getting
to her lungs.
"Very thankful," she mumbled
dryly, somehow managing to sound both sarcastic and out of breath at the
same time.
Jean, meanwhile, had been
searching through the closets for appropriate dresses while Kitty was working
on Rogue's corset, and now she turned around, carrying a frothy rose-colored
taffeta dress that perfectly suited her youngest sister's delicately pretty
features, and a dramatic green organdie which would bring out the green
in Rogue's eyes and make them shine like emeralds.
"Oh, that is so pretty..."
Kitty's voice trailed off, and she happily danced over to her oldest sister
and gave her a hug, before rushing off in a swirl of rosy skirts and jasmine-scented
sachet and starting to get dressed.
"Rogue?" Jean turned questioning
blue-green eyes on the sister who wasn't looking quite as thrilled by the
dresses as Kitty, asking, "Aren't you going to get dressed as well?" Rogue
winced, clutching at her waist and gritting her teeth as she tried to sit
down on her bed.
"After a while," was all
she could manage, still adjusting to breathing in her corset. "You and
Kitty can go down first and do whatever you like with the Creole--"
"Cajun," Kitty corrected
her huffily from the full-length mirror, slipping on some pearl earrings
as she did so.
"Fine, Cajun," Rogue bit
out testily. "Ah'll stay behind and adjust to mah new nineteen-and-a-half-inch
waistline." A concerned expression washed over Jean's gentle features,
and she inquired quietly, "Rogue, are you sure you're okay? I mean, I'm
certain we still have time to rework the stays on your corset and loosen
them a bit if they're that uncomfortable--"
"Oh, nonsense," Kitty cut
her off breezily, finishing tying her bonnet and now admiring her reflection
in the mirror. "Rogue is perfectly slim, she can handle it."
"Yeah, Ah can handle it,"
Rogue spoke up, not exactly wanting to be considered as the fat one in
front of her perfectly gorgeous older sister. The mild frown failed to
disappear from Jean's eyes, as she hesitated and asked, "Well, are you
sure that...?"
"Of course she's sure, she's
already said so," Kitty cut in, done swishing her skirts around and ready
to go downstairs and meet her gallant Cajun. "Now come on, Jean, let's
go already, he should be here by now--and you know how rude it would be
if Papa and Miss Ororo are trying to introduce him to the young ladies
of the plantation and nobody shows up!" At the possibility of showing any
degree of inhospitality to a guest, Jean finally relented and began heading
for the door, Kitty eagerly behind her.
"Well, Rogue, as soon as
you're feeling better, get dressed and come join us downstairs," the statuesque
redhead called out over her shoulder, and she and Kitty left in a blur
of swishing skirts and ribbons.
Wanda Maximoff irritably
rode around the acres of land of her father's plantation, distractedly
commanding her strawberry mare Scarlet to either speed up or slow down
as she searched for her brother.
"Sounds like a challenge,"
were the last words he'd uttered, tossing his trademark arrogant smirk
back at his twin sister before speeding off on his white stallion Quicksilver.
Wanda scowled as she remembered, silently cursing in a rather unladylike
manner while continuing to search through the acres of rolling hills and
forests. She should have known better than to propose a race to her brother;
now the arrogant scoundrel had taken off and completely left her, leaving
Wanda to aimlessly wander around their vast plantation in an effort to
find him before dinnertime.
"Pietro, you impudent little
skunk," she hissed angrily under her breath, when her ears suddenly caught
the sound of hooves trotting steadily against dirt, and the raven-haired
vixen immediately snapped up in search of her brother. "Pietro?"
A boy with longish blonde
hair and a dark tan came sheepishly into view, riding on a chestnut stallion
and wearing a friendly smile on his face.
"Afraid not, Miss Wanda,"
Alex Summers called out, taking off his hat and sounding as cheerful as
ever as he trotted up to the now viciously scowling girl. "But if it's
your
brother you're looking for, then you might want to pay a visit to Mr. Xavier's
plantation." Wanda's head snapped up when she realized that her dear twin
brother wasn't even at their own plantation anymore.
"What?" she hissed in a
very unladylike manner. "He's where?" Alex shrugged.
"I guess he went there to
call on Miss Jean," he pointed out, hoping to placate some of Wanda's anger.
"Are you going to go there as well?" Wanda's eyes narrowed grimly.
"Yes," she gritted through
clenched teeth, spelling out Pietro's inescapable doom with that one single
word.
"Oh, well, bye then," Alex
stammered, as Wanda pushed past him and made a beeline for the nearest
shortcut to the Xavier plantation. "Say, uh, Miss Wanda, did I ever tell
you how pretty you are...?" Wanda was already several yards away by then,
having failed to hear or maybe just pretending to not have heard a word
of his blushingly squeaked out praise. Alex shrugged, and replaced his
hat back atop his blonde head.
"Eh, guess not," he muttered
to himself, then clucked at his own horse to trot away as well.
Rogue took a few gingerly
steps around the room, biting down on her lip to prevent from wincing as
the stays of her corset cut deeper into her waist. After several more minutes,
during which she finally convinced herself that she could now walk around
if not in the graceful, lilting steps of a Southern lady then at least
in a normal way and not like some newborn colt, she began to dress, letting
the rich green organdie material descend over her corset and petticoat
and stepping into a pair of darker green velvet slippers. As Rogue began
walking down the stairway to join her sisters, she could already hear Kitty's
silvery laughter as the perky brunette chatted with the Cajun in French.
"I must apologize for my
daughter Rogue," Xavier's voice cut in just then. "I don't know what's
the matter with her. She should be here by now."
"That's no problem, Mr.
Xavier." The youthful masculine voice that responded was tinged with a
mixture of a French and Southern accent, and Rogue silently wondered whether
this was the way all Cajuns spoke as she finally managed to totter and
stumble her way down the stairs in as ladylike fashion as she could muster.
"Papa, Ah'm sorry about how
late Ah am," she began to apologize automatically as her father's distinguished
figure came into view. "Ah was, um..." Adjusting herself to her corset
wasn't exactly an appropriate excuse to be given in the presence of men,
and Rogue couldn't help but color slightly at the thought of even uttering
such words. Fortunately, Jean came to her rescue, as she spoke in her usual
calm voice, "But the important thing is that we're all here, right Papa?"
And she turned anxious viridian eyes on her father, as if silently pleading
him not to reprove Rogue in front of company for her tardiness. An awkward
pause fell on the group as Xavier considered her words, before glancing
up and offering a half-smile as he agreed, "You're right, Jean." Turning
to the Cajun, he said, "Mr. LeBeau, allow me to introduce my middle daughter,
Rogue." Amused black eyes, tinted with shades of red, glanced over leisurely
at the girl in the green dress, who was now fiddling around uncomfortably
with the lacy ribbons on her skirts and doing everything to avoid direct
eye contact. Hearing confident footsteps begin to approach, Rogue realized
that the Cajun--Mr. LeBeau, her father had called him--was heading her
way and finally raised her head, catching her first glimpse of the ruggedly
handsome young man standing before her.
"Ah, bonjour, ma chérie,"
he drawled, taking one of her gloved hands and placing a brief kiss on
it.
"Oh..." Two thoughts ran
through Rogue's head. One was that Jean was wrong for a change, and Cajuns
really were handsome and gallant and romantic. The second, as she silently
swore and kicked herself, was a lamentation for not having paid any attention
to her French lessons at the girls' academy she'd been subjected to for
the past ten years.
