It was now a year since the Labeau family had moved to the townhouse, surviving on a pension and the pittance Eve brought to the house working for a seamstress in the town. Eve walked home in pouring rain, her hair flat and uncurling from the pins that had until recently held it in place. Her rich clothes had long been spoiled through working and she now looked every inch the working peasant woman and nothing like the society-lady she had been while Pierre was alive. This day found her sullen and depressed, but she refused to cry as she waded through the mud of the main road. Life had to get better soon, she thought, it could not possibly get worse...
When Eve opened the door to her home, she found that life had indeed managed to get worse. Drizella and Anastasia, always open to mischief when left alone at home, had decided to play dress-up with Eve's remaining clothes. Eve knew this because most of the clothes were now scattered all over the floor, some of them torn, with Lucifer asleep on a black velvet dress she had kept hidden in her wardrobe and been quite fond of, right up to the point it was covered in grey cat fur. Eve slammed the door with as much anger as she could, finding some release in the pointless action. She heard a rustling from the back room – ah good, the girls were still awake. Pulling off her boots and shedding as much mud-covered clothing as possible by the door, Eve braced herself for an argument. She walked into the room that Drizella and Anastasia shared.
The girls had tried desperately to remove the clothes they were wearing, but to no avail. Anastasia was laced into a forest-green dress and Drizella was sporting a red number. Eve glared at her daughters for a few minutes as they tried to walk towards her, dresses trailing two foot of material behind them and both holding handfuls of satin and chiffon to stop themselves falling over the front of the dresses. Eve looked at them again – at least they had chosen her 'good' dresses to play in, those she had bought while her life still meant something. That showed good fashion sense if nothing else. She took in the state of their hair and the lopsided appearance of the dresses. With nothing to fill the bodices, the girls had stuffed the dresses with stockings and undergarments at the front to make them stand out. Eve noticed a black stocking protruding out of the top of Anastasia's dress. Faced with two fashion victims, Eve reacted in the only way she could. She pulled the girls towards her, embraced them and laughed.
The next day, soaked once more and again caked in mud, Eve decided to buy some bread on her way home. This meant she was forced to walk to the far side of the town before returning home. The walk convinced Eve that at some point she was going to have to train the girls to go shopping for her, sooner rather than later. On her way back from the baker's, Eve took the longer route home along the cobbled street, rather than her usual shortcut along a mud path. With no warning, a carriage rattled around the corner in front of her, teetering on two wheels. She heard the groom shout a warning as she dived for a doorway and safety. The carriage landed heavily on its side, the groom standing near it having leaped clear moments before it tipped. A fat man of around fifty with white hair emerged from the carriage door, hauling himself upwards and climbing down over the roof.
"You were right Dubois, definitely in need of replacing that young colt! Far too undisciplined. Are you alright madam?" The man had now approached Eve who was seated in the doorway of a house and was offering her his hand.
"Yes, um, thank you," she replied, a little shaken by the experience. The groom, who Eve guessed was Dubois, was trying to cut the horse loose from the carriage. She took the offered help and stood, all the while watching Dubois. Finally, she turned to the man in front of her and smiled. He started, clearly taken aback by something.
"Good Lord – you're not Madam Labeau are you? Pierre Labeau's wife?" Eve stopped smiling instantly.
"Yes – though I don't believe I have met you before, sir," replied Eve. More to the point, thought Eve, I don't think I have ever met you in a state where I would be recognisable to you now, looking like this.
"General Léglise my lady – Pierre and I were captains together, long ago. I had heard you'd fallen on hard times, but dear lady! This simply will not do at all!" Eve vaguely remembered a captain with black hair of that name. He'd been a lot thinner back then, she was sure she was only twenty when they'd last met. She was twenty-eight now – how on Earth had he recognised her? Maybe I don't look so bad after all, thought Eve, cheering up immensely. She realised she was staring at the general.
"Yes, I think I do remember you now. I do hope your carriage can be repaired!"
"That is the least of your worries – now, allow me to escort you home. Dubois will sort out the carriage. I'm sure someone will help him – his sort usually have family in the town, and they will so want to help one of their own. They usually do..." he added, more to himself than to Eve. Eve took the General's arm and allowed him to escort her back to her door. She noticed his look of disgust at the meagre dwelling and tried to cover her embarrassment. The general rallied marvellously, inviting Eve to a soiree at his home in ten days' time. Eve vaguely remembered that the regiment occasionally met for drinks, but had agreed to attend without actually thinking seriously about it. The general had told her to expect his carriage to pick her up at seven o' clock and was walking away before Eve realised what she'd done. Who was going to look after the girls? Could she get a day off work? And most important of all, given the girls' destruction of her wardrobe the day before, what was she going to wear?