This is Prompt No. 67-Vanity

Mitchie, safely delivered into the lion's den by her brother, crept into her mother's tearoom, steeling herself against the lecture she was sure to get. "A fine Virginia gentlewoman" was an important goal her mother had for her, and Mitchie was absolutely positive that none of a "fine Virginia gentlewoman's" qualities consisted of running up and down stairs or banging doors. She found her mother facing the window that looked out over the front of the house and winced, knowing that her mother would have seen her return.

"Come in," her mother said without turning around.

Mitchie slunk into the room, grateful that her mother wasn't looking, for her posture would then become another topic of lecture, and Mitchie did not feel ready at that moment to be lectured or ridiculed. "Mother, I can explain," she began, but got no further.

"You need not explain, Michelle," her mother said calmly, turning around then to glance over her daughter's appearance, no doubt making sure that it was suitable for company. "It's rather unsettling to hear shouting in a house that is usually so quiet."

Mitchie's eyes widened. "Oh," she said weakly, not quite believing that those few words were the extent of what her mother had to say to her.

"Come and sit," her mother instructed, indicating the divan she sat on. "Our guest will be here shortly." She glanced up at the clock. "Any minute now, actually."

Mitchie resisted the urge to slouch in dread as she seated herself next to her mother. Virginian protocol demanded that she was now old enough to help entertain guests, and for the most part, she rather liked visiting and chatting with the ladies of the neighborhood, but Mrs. Prindle was a completely different case entirely. The Virginian gossiper was the nosiest, rudest woman in the district, in Mitchie's opinion, and her only reason for calling on people was to give and get gossip.

A rap at the door startled Mitchie out of her thoughts and she instinctively rose to get the door, which was only a few steps away from the room she was in. "Sit, Michelle, if you please," her mother commanded, her tone hard. "Anna can get the door. That's why we have servants."

Mitchie bit her tongue and sat back down on the divan, discreetly scooting further away from her mother. Anna came tearing down the stairs, trying to reach the door in time so that the visitor might not leave before she could get to the door. "Oh take all the time you need, dear Anna," Mitchie thought, but she knew that it was Anna's duty to answer the door quickly.

"Mrs. Prindle, if you please, ma'am," Anna said as she showed Mrs. Prindle into the tearoom, making a face behind the woman's back that only Mitchie could see.

"Delia," Connie Torres said happily, rising from her seat on the divan to shake her friend's hand. "So nice to see you again. May I take your coat?"

Delia Prindle nodded and removed her coat, revealing a hideous dress underneath that had so many bright colors that Mitchie wanted to cover her eyes. "Thank you, darling," she said in her patronizing tone, handing the coat to Mitchie's mother.

"Here, girl," Connie said, flinging the coat at Anna, who caught it and bobbed an exit, making another face over her shoulder. Mitchie knew exactly what the look meant: So much for taking her coat!

"Michelle!" Mrs. Prindle exclaimed, turning her fierce, gossipy eyes on Mitchie. "I see you've returned alright from your tour of Europe. I told your mother that I was sure you'd fall into the ocean if you went on a ship, seeing as how clumsy you are, but she assured me that you'd be alright." Mrs. Prindle cast a glance at Connie. "It seems she was right." The tone in which she said it seemed to indicate that such a feat was a rarity.

"Yes, thank you," Mitchie said politely. "I-"

"But you do look pale," Mrs. Prindle said, cutting her off. "Did you eat properly?" Mitchie started to respond, but once again, Mrs. Prindle cut her off. "Young people never eat properly these days," she told Connie as though Mitchie wasn't sitting there anymore. "They always want to eat the rich, unhealthy food."

"Quite right," Connie replied, passing Mrs. Prindle the tray of tea sandwiches Lucy, the cook, had prepared.

"Do you like my outfit?" Mrs. Prindle asked, setting down her cup and standing to twirl around so that the two ladies seated could get a fuller glimpse of the hideous ensemble.

"It's beautiful," Connie complimented. "Wherever did you get it?"

"I ordered it from Europe," Mrs. Prindle boasted proudly. She turned to look severely at Mitchie. "What do you think? Did you ever see anything like this in Europe?"

"Great. Now she asks my opinion," thought Mitchie, but she replied diplomatically and said, "No, I can safely say that I've never seen anything like it."

Thankfully, the context of the statement went over the woman's head and she continued speaking to Mitchie's mother. "It's the latest fashion," she sad proudly.

"Is it?" Mitchie's mother asked, sounding impressed.

"Yes," Mrs. Prindle replied with glee, twirling around once more.

Mitchie was trying very hard not to show her disgust. Mrs. Delia Prindle was by far the most vain person she had ever met! She tried to look elsewhere, but the horrid dress was etched in her mind, and she couldn't stop thinking about it. She really disliked Delia Prindle and her unneeded horror images.

"Now," Delia prindle said, settling herself on the chair across from the divan. "I was just over at the Tucker's, and you'll never guess what Grace Tucker told me!" The glee in her voice made Mitchie slightly sick.

"Tell me," Connie said, sitting forward as though her whole life depended on whatever tidbit of gossip Delia Prindle might spread this time.

Mitchie tried not to groan as Mrs. Prindle started her story. This was going to be a very long day.

A/N: Please tell me what you think! Hope you liked it! :D