Vivienne was brought to a fine wooden door where she could hear giggling and the rustling of fabric on the other side. The maid knocked on the door. A moment later, a pretty blonde woman opened it, looking Vivienne up and down.
Apparently satisfied, she smiled and took Vivienne's arm. The door was slammed in the little maid's face and Vivienne was brought out of the darkly glamorous hallway into a gaudy fairyland of dresses and clouds of perfume. She blinked at the sudden light.
"You must be Vivienne Tavington!" The blonde woman was leading her through the room of lovely ladies getting ready for the ball over to a group of tittering girls, all about fourteen.
"You're the only one of us here who has married! And to the dashing Colonel Tavington, no less! What's it like? What's he like?" The girls all gathered round, faces glowing with anticipation. Vivienne, finally figuring out what they wanted to know about, flushed deeply.
"Well, ah. . . we've only been married a week or so and, well, we. . . sleep in a tent, so there hasn't been much space for umm, ah. . ." the girls tittered again, but the blonde woman smiled and put her hands on either side of Vivienne's face.
"How upsetting that you haven't had a chance to experience your wedding night yet! But don't worry, I suspected this would happen!" Vivienne's insides seemed to twist and knot together
"Just wait and see the room I picked out for you two! And of course we have more lovely clothes for you than. . . that." Vivienne's nightdress was dirty and tattered by now.
"When we're finished with you, he'll be aching to have you right there on the dance floor!" Vivienne felt she would faint. Luckily, the blonde girl seemed to sense her discomfort.
"Well then, we simply cannot put you in a clean dress when you are still so filthy!" With that, Vivienne was escorted through the fairyland to an equally beautiful bathroom where she was shown to a large tub filled with steaming water.
Looking down at the bath, scented with fragrant rose petals, she quickly removed her clothes and sank into the water. She had barely gotten in when maids came forward toting bottles of all shapes and sizes.
They washed her hair and scrubbed her body, filthy with grass stains and road dust, with sweet floral shampoos and soaps. At last, when the maids were finished, Vivienne toweled off and sighed, her body tingling with warmth and delightful cleanliness. It was but a moment later when the blonde woman strode up, carrying something red over her arm.
"Try it on, then!" She shoved the red thing at Vivienne. Vivienne took it timidly, all traces of delight gone, and walked behind the dressing screen to put on this red dress. There was no mirror behind the screen, so she had no way of seeing herself as she gingerly stepped out for all to see.
They gasped, staring at her with huge, jealous eyes. The blonde woman looked excited as she examined Vivienne.
"You are quite the vision beneath that grime. Have a look for yourself." She stepped away from the mirror and what Vivienne saw there made her go pale.
The crimson dress was tight, to say in the least. It clung to her waist, bust, and hips much like her corset did, but frighteningly more so. The neckline was wide and low, exposing much of Vivienne's cleavage and pressing her breasts closer together, which gave the illusion they were much larger. The sleeves flowed just past her elbows, highlighting the pale curves of her forearms. The rich, deep fabric itself seemed to hint at her imminent "wedding night." She turned away from the mirror, facing her admirers.
"There is no way I can go out looking like this. I have. . . too much of me on show." A flat-chested redhead scrambled over to Vivienne.
"If you have a beautiful body, why keep it covered up? And don't you want your husband to be proud to call you his wife?" Vivienne didn't have time to scream how she was not Tavington's wife, and he didn't deserve to be proud of her, because the blonde girl dragged her over to a vanity table, sat her down, and began brushing Vivienne's long, thick hair.
"Prudence is right, you know. And if you belong to Colonel William Tavington, he will let no other man will touch you." That's precisely what I'm afraid of, Vivienne thought, her stomach twisting in nervousness once again.
"My name is Margaret. I know you're Vivienne. I have the most delightful idea for your hair!" As Margaret twisted, draped and braided Vivienne's long brunette locks, the time passed quickly and before any of the girls knew it, evening was upon them, and the dance would be beginning.