Chapter 19 The first gala
“There's a gala in three days.” Mrs Louvre's voice drifted into the room.
Isabella raised her head from the book she'd been struggling to read, to fight sleep.
“What an honour to see you. You finally decided to grace me with your presence,” she said dryly, returning her attention back to the book she was reading.
“There's a gala in three days.” Mrs Louvre repeated, ignoring Isabella’s jab at her.
“What does that have to do with me?” She sighed, already expecting where this was heading.
“You will go with the king as his companion.”
A rueful smile curved on her lips. She would not go as the queen, not even as the King's mate. Rather, she was going as his companion.
To keep him company, smile all day, and wave at people who would be staring at her, with question-filled eyes.
She was nothing more than an escort.
“Alright,” she nodded. “What do you need me to do?”
Mrs Louvre took a step back, literally. She looked shocked at the question, but as a veteran, she quickly regained her composure.
“Lady Margaret will be here in two hours. Training will be intense.” She added softly.
Isabella bobbed her head. “I'll be there.” She muttered. “Is that all?”
She said, wondering why the old woman was still standing by her door.
She shook her head. “Yes,” she supplied and closed the door behind her.
The moment the door clicked shut, Isabella dropped the book. She already wasn't feeling the book, and now she'd received information that was going to dampen her mood for the next three days.
The door opened again and Mira rushed in. “I saw Mrs Louvre leaving, Ms Thorne, is everything okay?” She was breathing fast, which signalled that she'd almost run here.
“Everything is okay, Mira. She was just here about the gala.”
“The one happening in three days?” Mira asked, to be sure.
Isabella nodded, not surprised that even Mira knew about the gala and she, the attendee knew nothing of such.
“Oh, okay,” Mira said and sighed in relief. “I was wondering if I'd done something wrong.” She added.
Isabella was amused. Mira was practically taking care of her and keeping her company.
“There's no such thing as that, Mira.” She pacified the young woman before standing up gracefully.
“I should get ready. Lady Margaret will be here soon.” Her face was expressionless, but if one looked closely, then they would see the fear hidden in her eyes and her mannerisms.
Mira hesitated. “Ms Thorne?” She called, unsure. “Are you sure you're ready?” She left the remainder of the words hanging in the air.
Isabella’s smile shook. “I will be okay, Mira. We've been rehearsing, haven't we?”
Mira nodded.
It was true. Since the last class with Lady Margaret, she'd been practising the lessons.
The way she curtsied was better, she sat down with her shoulders raised and her head up, her chest pressed forward.
All the mannerisms of the regal woman.
“I'll get your bath water ready ma'am, and the girls,” Mira said and stepped out of the room.
Isabella exhaled the moment the door closed.
She really wasn't sure if she was ready to see Lady Margaret. But it wasn't a matter of choice. She had a duty to fulfill and that was exactly what she was going to do.
She walked slowly to the dressing table and sat down, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
“You can do this.” She mouthed.
The door opened again and the girls stepped in, bowing slightly as they made their way inside.
Isabella had already accepted her fate that when it came to her privacy, she had no say. How else could she explain that she wasn't even allowed to have her bath by herself?
One of the girls scurried towards her, with her head bowed. It was time.
She stood up to allow the girl access to her dress.
The gown fell off her body, leaving her in her panties and her bra.
She watched as the girl stripped her, before leading her to the bath.
The water was extra rosy today. There were a lot of supplements by the side. More than what was normally used for her.
“What's the occasion?” She asked one of the girls as she walked into the water.
“His Majesty personally sent this, Ms Thorne. It's in preparation for the gala.”
Isabella nodded and settled into the water. Lucien was concerned about her preparation process, yet had not deemed it fit to speak to her personally about the gala.
Isabella tried to walk gracefully to the training room. She'd rushed melody in the hair and makeup process because she wanted to arrive before Lady Margaret.
She wanted to see the woman arrive and not the other way around. She glanced at the wristwatch on her left hand. She still had fifteen minutes of extra time before the appointed time.
She walked slowly into the training room, her eyes darting and exhaled when she found out she was the only one in the room.
Lady Margaret had not arrived.
The past few days, she'd been stuffing herself with books and had learned that to appear in control of her environment, she had to arrive first and check out the place.
She'd barely settled down when the door opened and Margaret walked in.
The look of surprise on her face, on seeing Isabella would have brought Isabella so much joy if she were not that anxious.
“You're early.” She was quick enough to go back to the expressionless Margaret.
“So are you,” Isabella stood up with as much grace as she could muster and curtsied lightly.
“You've been training.” Margaret was unable to hide the surprise in her voice.n
Isabella tried to stifle her smile. She was glad it was working.
Margaret walked slowly to her. “This is good, but it isn't the best you can offer.” She circled her like a predator, studying her prey.
Isabella's smile wavered.
“Leave the smile on,” Margaret whispered as she studied her face. “You'll hear worse things at the gala. How do you intend to go about it?”
“I…” the tears were forming. She'd put in a lot of work and she hadn't even been commended.
“Smile?” Margaret reminded her, as she straightened her back.
Isabella sniffed and gave a small smile.
Margaret shook her head. She wasn't satisfied. “This is not what I want.”
She stepped back and walked to the door. “I'm going to step out now, you'll sit down and when I come in, you'll give me the happiest smile you own, is that clear?”
“Yes.” She said, curtsying as she watched Margaret walk out the door.
The door opened and Margaret walked in. “You're early,” she said, the same look of surprise plastered on her face.
“So are you,” Isabella responded as she stood up and curtseyed.
Margaret shook her head. “That's not the brightest smile you own. Besides, your hands are shaky and you are nervous.”
She pointed at the hand that was behind Isabella's gown. You're trying to hide that hand behind your gown but I can see it and so will everyone who has eyes.”
“Let's do this again.” She said and stepped out of the door.
“Now this is perfect.” Margaret’s high-pitched voice filled the room and Isabella sighed in relief.
They'd done it over and over again that she'd lost count.
“Let's move to the next on the list. We've got no time.” Margaret said, and clapped her hands lightly and the door opened as some people walked in, with trolleys and trolleys of shoes.
All above six inches.
“Try this,” Margaret pointed at a blue one, whose heel was thin, almost invisible.
She walked over to where the shoe sat, and picked it up, hesitating slightly.
“You're going to be the King's companion so you have to look the part.”
“This is very uncomfortable.” She managed to squeeze out after settling into the shoe.
“Beauty is pain, Ms Thorne.” Lady Margaret said, amused at the expression on Isabella’s face.
Isabella shook her head. “I understand that, Lady Margaret, but I don't really think I can move in this. And I know I'll be expected to walk with His Majesty and maybe dance with him.”
“Fair enough,” Lady Margaret acquiesced.
Isabella sighed with relief as she took off the shoes.
“Ms Thorne?” Lady Margaret called suddenly.
“You will be provoked. Tongues will wag and people who have no decorum will say those things to your face without fear.” She said suddenly.
“It is in your best interest not to respond to them.”
Isabella nodded, wondering where all these were coming from.
“When they come for you, the best thing to do would be to deflect. Make everything all about His Majesty and his choice, is that clear?” Margaret's voice was stern. Sterner than it had ever been.
“And remember the ultimate rule, do not speak unless you have been spoken to.”