Free Living London by Kristin Vayden Page A

the paper down and walked over to a bolt of fabric. I fingered a soft silk in a puce color, and then eyed the rest of the samples for a deep blue or perhaps an olive green.
    "Jocelyn?" Amelia called from a corner where she had put on her new dress. The French woman was taking notes.
    "Yes?"
    "What do you think?" she asked as she smoothed the fabric with her gloved hands. It was beautiful, a perfect shade of amber and cream to offset her dark hair.
    "I think it's perfect. I love the color."
    "What about the fit? Madame Marquette thinks I should take it in about a half-inch from the skirt.
    "Half-inch? Would it make that much of a difference?" Back home I'd bought things in premade sizes and taken them home hoping for the best. Here, everything was made specifically for the wearer of the garment. Heaven help me if I gained weight. I could see myself now — Yes, could you just please let it out a bit here, and here so I can breathe? That was not a conversation I wanted to have, ever.
    My thoughts were interrupted by Madame Marquette. "Of course it would make a difference! This dress, it is distinctive. If it hangs, then the dress will not live up to its potential." Her hands glided over the fabric, pulling it and adjusting it as she spoke. "Not to mention, it will not be as beautiful as Miss Amelia deserves." Her eyes twinkled as she looked up at Amelia, and I smiled, noticing the relationship between the two. This wasn't simply about a dress.
    "You heard Madame. A half-inch it is." I nodded.
    Soon after we left the store, Amelia had to say goodbye, but I knew I'd see her in a few days. The theater had a new production that Amelia had invited me to attend with her family, and I readily agreed. I pinched myself, smiling at the pain because that meant this was real. I couldn't wait for the next few days to pass so I could set foot into such a piece of history. Drury Lane.

Chapter Eight
     
    I fingered the peacock-feathered headdress as I waited for Libby to finish setting out my clothes for the evening. Every evening I had an engagement of some sort — such a stark contrast from my former routine of making dinner and watching "The Bachelor" at night.
    Tonight I would be going to Drury Lane Theater. Just the thought made me sigh out loud. How often had I read about that place? Sitting in a box seat with opera glasses, the men dressed up with their top hats and the women in their sparkling jewelry, watching. The evening couldn't begin fast enough.
    "Now, miss, remember, don't be going off by yourself. Take Miss Amelia with you," Libby instructed me. Her constant instruction was more than helpful. "Just follow Miss Amelia's lead, and you'll be fine. Enjoy yourself," she added as she put the final touches on my dress and hat. She placed a large emerald around my neck that accented my matching clipped earrings. The dark green made my eyes seem deeper. A regency debutante stared back at me when I gazed into the mirror. Every inch of my reflection was ladylike, mature and feminine. My gown wasn't a 'little black dress' but a lighter hue that was just as sexy. The light grey was as close to black as I could get without being in mourning, and the rich green velvet complimented the grey perfectly. My emerald green satin slippers only peeked out from beneath the overly long gown, but they provided the perfect accent. Adjusting my headdress, I thanked Libby again and made my way to the door.
    ****
    The steps into the theater were littered with people glittering from head to toe. Kean would be playing Shylock, and everyone who was anyone had turned out. At least that was what Amelia had said when I met her at the theater's entrance.
    The buzz of human voices became a dull roar as we moved further into the throng. A large chandelier hung from the ornately painted ceiling, and crystals from the light piece reflected onto the walls. The illuminated hall was decorated in rich, bold colors that were highlighted by the stark white of pillars and