Chapter Three: Continental Fashions

Aletté fidgeted awkwardly, holding her arms out on either side of her body as the dressmaker busily took her measurements, marking them down on a pearly white sheet of paper that was pinned to the wall. The state dinner and ball was tomorrow, and Aletté was adamant about finding a new dress, one which complimented her figure.

This was far from the norm for Aletté; usually she had to fend off new gowns of silk, taffeta, muslin, and organza that came as gifts from King Rico almost weekly. No other courtier was offered quite so much, and yet no other courtier had such a small wardrobe. Aletté's insistence upon a new gown was entirely due to the presence of Will at the coming ball.

She smiled to herself. Will had been overwhelmed by Rico's generous outpouring of waistcoats, breeches, belts, and shoes. He had been literally smothered by the maids' attention, all of whom had eyed him with a look that made Aletté very irate.

"Done." The dressmaker said cheerfully. "Now lets pick out a fabric, shall we?"

Aletté nodded and dropped her arms back down to her sides, grateful that the blood flow was now returning. The woman, so named Mariale as Aletté had gathered from snippets of conversation between the dresser and the scullery maids, was tall with wavy golden hair and all the true Spanish curves Aletté could possibly desire. Aletté watched as she produced from an armoire a stack of tinder boxes filled to the bursting with swatches of dressmaker's fabric.

"I think a pale yellow velvet would become you quite nicely." Mariale chirped, pulling out a clump of yellow and beige fabrics and rifling through them. She held out a shimmery crushed velvet square to Aletté. "How's this?"

"Well..." Aletté said timidly, "is it at all possible that I could wear... turquoise?"

"Turquoise?" Mariale gaped. "Um..." She thought hard. "Well, no courtier has ever worn turquoise to a ball before... I don't think I have any fabric in that colour."

"We could give it a dye bath." Aletté suggested hopefully.

"Well, I don't have any dye in that colour either." Mariale said, her loathing of said hue apparent in her voice, despite all efforts to conceal it.

Aletté smiled affectionately. "We could mix blue and green."

"I suppose..."

"Oh really?" Aletté beamed. "Thank you, Mariale, thank you!"

"Right..." Mariale smiled awkwardly and then turned her gaze back to the tinderbox. "So... crushed velvet, perhaps?"

"What about damask?" Aletté suggested, recalling how the dramatic fabric had always seemed to tumble so freely.

"Damask is made for somber colours, greys and blacks. What about satin?"

"Hmm..." Aletté pondered, fingering the white satin swatch that Mariale had just handed her. "I suppose satin would catch the light nicely."

"Decided, then, my lady?"

"Decided." Aletté agreed. "Turquoise satin."

There was a knock at the door.

"Who calls?" Mariale chirped vivaciously.

"Will Turner." Came a familiar but muffled voice.

The dressmaker turned pale. "The Lady is not yet decent, you'll have to wait." She called. Her attentions turned to Aletté. "The way they let men just wander through here nowadays... disgraceful, that's what it is." She grabbed a red chamber robe off of her dressmaker's doll and tossed it to Aletté, who, due to her need to be measured, was clothed only in her undergarments, though said articles were actually quite covering, not revealing by even the largest stretch of the imagination.

Aletté felt her heart flutter as she shrugged herself into the robe. His voice made her vision blur with excitement, a wonderful, sweet intoxication. "You can come in now, Will." She called in a sing-song voice, though her own singing voice had not been put to use since earning her money in the bars of Singapore.

The door opened and said visitor made his way in. Aletté giggled. Will really was a sight. His normally drab attire had been replaced with the flashy continental fashions that the Lords of the court had fallen in love with, breeches of shimmering black and waistcoats in rich reds and royal blues. Will himself was clothed in black and a dark grey-blue.

He blushed. "Look's pretty bad, doesn't it?"

"Awful." Aletté teased, sliding into his warm embrace, a smile glowing on her face. "And don't you complain- you're the one who wanted to go to this stupid state dinner."

"I wonder what Jack will be wearing." Will mused, toying haphazardly with her flat blonde hair.

"That would be a sight." Aletté said.

"And you?" He prompted. "What of the most lovely courtier in Spain?"

"Ah, but no!" Aletté smiled. "That would be a state secret."

He laughed and scooped her up into his arms, the same way a groom carries his bride across the threshold of their new home. Mariale looked mortified, but Aletté quickly dismissed her, saying that they would choose the pattern later. The dressmaker left, and Will let Aletté's feet reconnect themselves with the floor.

"Rico's quite a generous man." Will commented.

"I hope he doesn't smother you." Aletté teased. "Although, I'd be more worried about the servant girls stealing you away."

"You should see Jack." Will laughed. "He's in euphoria."

"Come again?"

"Cant take two steps without running into a maid wanting to be taken to his bed." He laughed. "Must be hard for him."

"How's that?"

"Trying to stay true to Morgan."

"Ah." Aletté smiled.

"Now," He took her hands in his. "You said you needed to practice your dancing?"

"Oh no!" Aletté protested. "No! No! I'm not dancing at this thing!"

"Why not, it's a ball."

"I have two left feet." She said, trying to pull herself out of his tender grasp.

"Oh really?" He asked. She nodded. "Let me check." He stooped down and ran his hands over her ankles lovingly. "Well now who's the liar?"

"Will!"

"What?"

"Don't!" She shook her right foot out of his grasp, accidentally throwing off het balance. She tumbled backwards onto the table, her left knee inadvertently kicking (if that would be the right synonym for kneeing) poor Will in the groin as she did so. The next minute, both lovers spent crumpled over on the floor, pain preventing any kind of speech from passing between them.

"Sorry." Will gasped finally.

Aletté sat up, her hands massaging her aching back, since that was the part of her skinny form that had smacked the hard marble floor first. "No, I'm sorry."

Will stumbled to his feet and rushed over to attend to Aletté. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. You?"

Will gulped. "Nothing time wont heal."

She sighed. "I'm so sorry, Will. I've been nothing but bad luck for you."

He smiled and shook his head in wonderment. "Meeting you was nothing but good luck."

"Meeting me, yes." Aletté said. "Living with me, no."

Will laughed and scooped her up in his arms. "I could think of no more rapturous an Elysium." He kissed her nose lightly. "I would rather live one day with you than spend eternity with all the graces of the world, and no Aletté in sight."

Aletté just shook her head. "You're hopeless."

"And you're beautiful."

"Oh shut up!" She kissed him playfully. "Put me down if you know what's good for you." There was nothing malicious or even, well, threatening about this threat. He laid her down upon the ground and planted another kiss upon her nose.

"Now," Will said quietly, "go help your dressmaker with that gown you were working on."

Aletté couldn't help but bask in the glow of the way he looked at her. "The one you said will make me the most beautiful courtier in Spain?"

"Did I say that?" She nodded. "Well, that cant be right!"

"Oh is that so?" Aletté grinned. "And whoever not? Because I was right- I am a skinny little starveling with no figure!"

"No." Will said. "Because you're already the most beautiful woman in the world."

Big apologies to all my readers- I'm sorry to keep you waiting so long, but my life is getting hectic with school and all that. I know that's not really an excuse, but please be nice and review anyway. Sorry again.

-SQ