Excerpt: What Lies Beneath

London
March 1878

The day began like any other. The bright sunshine that flooded my room upon my awakening could hardly have been a less foreboding sign. Mary, the housemaid, bustled in shortly after to bring me my morning tea and to bank up the fire, for March in London brought with it a biting chill in the air. Mary wished me a cheerful good morning, and yawning, I struggled out of bed and reached for the teapot.
The amber beverage gave off a fragrance of bergamot as I poured a stream into the delicate china teacup provided. "Lilian awake yet, Mary?" I added a splash of milk to the tea, and brought it to my lips, sipping at it gingerly, for it was piping hot.
The housemaid looked up at me, her eyes fairly twinkling. "Her ladyship had such a late night last night, I thought to give her a few extra moments of sleep by tending to you first."
I pulled a face at her. Late night indeed. Mine had been equally as long, but of course the poor relation cannot expect to meet with the same consideration granted to a beautiful heir to a large fortune. I glanced at my own clock, wincing at the time displayed - eleven fourteen a.m. I am not an early riser, by any means, but waking at nearly noon is taking it a little to excess, I think. At least last night's ball had been a resounding success, particularly by Lilian's standards. She had been the center of attention in a shimmering gown of lilac taffeta, cut in the most fashionable lines, the bodice fitting with absolute perfection and the slight bustle draped with the consummate skill that can only be acquired by one of the fashion greats - Worth, in this case. It might even have been a little ahead of fashion. Wealth does have its advantages, you know.
I was dressed much more modestly in a gown made simply by the local dressmaker. The color - pale spring green - was not exactly my most flattering color, but then it was made specifically to harmonize with Lilian's gown, and not to flatter me. With my dark hair I have always tended toward deep, rich colors, whereas Lilian is quite fair, and light, delicate shades suit her best. It is a pity we were not more similar in coloring, for I generally inherit all her clothing eventually, and though they are cut gorgeously and stylishly, they do tend to make me look a wee bit … well, ill.
Forgive me if I rhapsodize about fashion. I am not one of your insipid females, I assure you, yet I have always had a particular weakness for beautiful clothing, and the luscious silks, voiles, taffetas, and laces they are constructed of. I confess, for a poor relation I have expensive tastes.