Page 17 of A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight’s Tale #3)

C ara found the girls easily enough, because when she made her way up the stairs again, giggling came from the far end of the hall.

Geez, this place was dark. It was the middle of the day, and if she had her way, they’d throw open all the windows in these upper rooms, and open the doors.

As it was, the doors were closed, giving the long hallway an eerie, spooky feel.

A few skylights wouldn’t come amiss either, but as glass didn’t seem to have been invented yet, she supposed that was out of the question.

They were in their shared room. Dresses were laid out upon the bed, and Amelia held one up as she performed the intricate steps of a line dance, for the amusement of her sister and their maid.

“Well, well, what’s going on in here?” Cara asked.

Amelia gasped, and dropped the dress, before quickly picking it up and shaking it out. “You startled me!” Amelia said, causing Dori to laugh all the harder.

“Are you getting ready for our trip?”

“Yes!” Dori sprang from a chair and clapped her hands three times. “Though Amelia says we will be the most poorly dressed there, as we’ve not the money for new clothes.”

“Well, that stinks, your mom said I had to borrow some of your dresses, and that I’m not to outshine you, so I suppose that means I’m getting the bottom of an already picked over barrel.”

Amelia snatched a dress from off the bed and hugged it to her.

“Now wait a minute, that was the one I wanted!” Cara protested.

Amelia froze, a deer in the headlights.

Cara chuckled. “Just kidding! I don’t care what I wear. Show me what you girls are planning to take, and we’ll see if we can fix the dresses up a bit. Some of my favorite outfits are years old, but the trick is to rework them into something that other ladies wish they had thought of first.”

Both girls looked intrigued. “What do you mean?” Dori asked. “Either your dress is in the latest fashion, or ’tis not.”

“Or, you wear things in such a unique way, that other ladies try and copy you.”

Dawning excitement shown in Amelia’s eyes. “Show us!”

“Okay, where do we start? Clothing, hair, or my favorite, makeup?”

“Makeup?” The girls uttered the word at the same time.

Cara’s smile widened. “Tell you what, we’ll save the best for last.”

* * *

Hours later, Cara helped the girls with their clothes. The maid brought in more candles as well as some polished shields masquerading as mirrors.

Supper arrived at some point.

She got both Dori and Amelia dressed to her satisfaction and then walked in a circle around both of them.

Finally, she said, “Amelia, you look wonderful. Sort of a cross between medieval and modern.” She tightened the scarf at the younger girl’s waist, and then fiddled with the matching ones at both elbows, puffing the sleeves.

When she stood back and studied the effect, the puffed sleeves, hanging scarves, and the lower part of the medieval style sleeve flowed down in a way that made her proud.

“Are you sure about the splits?” Amelia asked, looking downwardly at the new openings on both sides of her dress that showed the blue under skirt. “You don’t think it looks immodest?”

Cara shook her head. “By no means does it look immodest. I guarantee you once the other ladies get a gander at this, it’ll be all the rage. And you will have started it.”

“I suppose so,” she still sounded worried.

Cara waved a hand, dismissing her concerns. “Just wait and see. You’ll be a leader of fashion.”

She looked behind her worriedly. “It feels strange that the dress is not touching the ground.”

“Again, it’s going to be copied. Having it up in the back will give you so much more freedom, and without it dragging on the ground, you’re going to love how it feels. Because, who needs to be dusting the floors as they’re walking or dancing. Yeah? Am I right?”

Amelia finally smiled. “It does feel good.”

“Of course, it does.”

Cara walked in a slow circle around Dori. She’d done something completely different here, and pulled up, and sewed the back of her dress in a ruffle, again, showing the underdress.

She’d stitched both sleeves tight to her wrist, but still let the ends hang, medieval style.

She’d tucked a knotted scarf into the bodice.

She finished her circle of Dori. “Every woman at the wedding will be altering their dresses to copy your new looks before the day has passed, I guarantee it.”

She clapped both hands together. “All right, girls, my work here is done.” She curtsied to both of them.

Now that their session had ended, the two turned toward each other, exclaiming over the new look, squealing, and generally acting like teenagers.

“Now, if you think I’m awesome with clothes, wait until you see what I’m doing with your hair.”

Dori twirled in a circle, and Amelia grabbed for the bed post, as if overcome, reminding Cara of her angsty teenage self.

She laughed, and couldn’t help teasing. “Who are you hoping to impress, anyway? Are there boys coming to the wedding I should know about? Are you in love with someone?”

The joy dropped from Amelia’s face as if it had never been there.

“What?” Cara asked.

Dori looked sympathetic.

Amelia’s gaze dropped and she drew in a breath and sighed. “There is no one for me. When a lord is disgraced, his entire family partakes. My betrothal, contracted at my birth, was broken as we no longer hold the properties that would have come to me upon my marriage. I am no longer spoken for.”

The girl suddenly sounded too old for her years, worn down by life.

“I’m sorry. Did you know him well?”

She shook her head. “I have never met him.”

So, Amelia wasn’t broken-hearted? Cara wasn’t sure what to say and finally settled with, “Don’t worry, you’re young, beautiful, and the right guy will come along.”

Amelia’s lips trembled, and she looked away, sad and tragic. “What use is youth and beauty to me when I’ve not even the dowry to take vows?”

That made Cara mad. “Those are your choices? Marriage or the nunnery?” She sliced a hand through the air, “That’s total bullcrap. We don’t need men to complete us, and we never did. How do you know your betrothed wasn’t some jerk-off who abused women and children and kicked puppies? After the way he dumped you, I’d say it’s likely he isn’t worth the dirt you scrape off your shoes. You’re an awesome, intelligent, thoughtful kid. You have a family and a community who love you, so who needs men, anyway?”

Dori stared, wide-eyed, and Amelia burst into tears and threw herself at Cara. “I hope you do marry my brother. I hope you never leave.”

Cara staggered, steadied herself, and hugged Amelia, giving her an occasional pat on the back while she hid her amusement. She’d been a teenage girl once too, and knew exactly how Amelia felt.

Dori, brows creased, came forward to rub her sister’s arm.

After a few minutes Amelia wound down to sniffles and took a step back, looking bashful.

Cara smiled easily, “All right, potty-break for me. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Dori called after her.

“To use the privy.” She tried to copy the girl’s accent, but it came out more cockney than upper-crust.

Dori laughed. “Use the one under the bed.”

“No, thank you,” she continued on her way out the door.

“Wait!” Amelia ran forward and hugged her tight. “My brother is so lucky to have found you.”

Cara chuckled and touched her necklace. “Yes, well …”

“Nay,” Amelia said. “He is lucky to have you because you are such fun. Life was dull and dismal before you arrived.”

“Yeah,” Dori said, copying Cara’s word, sounding more modern girl than medieval. “And quite cheerless, as well. We are so glad you came, Cara.”

Their words touched her, chasing away some of the disconnect she’d felt all day, making her feel more settled. “Thanks, you are sweetie pies. And you’re a lot of fun too.”

With a smile, she headed down the hall.

Perhaps all she needed was to focus on enjoying this family, the excitement of the upcoming journey, and let the rest work itself out.

* * *

Cara was on her way to the bathroom, or garderobe, or whatever it was called. She realized she was smiling, happy, probably because she was in her element once again.

Making people beautiful was her business, after all.

Or, ugly, in some circumstances.

Whatever, she was having fun.

How could she style Amelia and Dori’s hair, to make them stand out in the best way possible?

What about a beehive?

The thought made her chuckle. But she didn’t discount the idea out right.

That would get some raised eyebrows in this day of braids and long hair for maidens.

Come to think of it, the 70s did a good job of re-creating the medieval look with a twist, didn’t they?

Braids, flowers, flowing dresses. She’d never considered it before, but if that wasn’t a re-creation of the medieval period, she didn’t know what was!

What else could she do?

It wasn’t as if she could do bellbottoms, or disco, but what about platform shoes? Or a glittery, satin scarf around Amelia’s head?

What she wouldn’t give for a sharp pair of scissors. A recreation of Farrah Fawcett’s hairstyle, or Jane Fonda’s shag wasn’t quite as possible without her styling tools as the straight and sleek look.

Her fingers ached to get to work. Dorothy Hamill’s wedge cut would look fabulous on Dori.

Oh well, she had to go with what she had to work with. Still, what about those brow skimming bangs! She could probably manage sort of an Olivia Newton-John softer style.

There were always dreadlocks.

She giggled to herself and she had almost reached the garderobe door, she could tell by the smell if nothing else, when someone grabbed her from behind, wrapped a strong arm around her neck, grabbed hold of her necklace and tugged.

She let out a screech which was quickly cut off by a filthy hand covering her mouth.

She continued to screech without much noise, fighting, twisting, while the wrenching at her neck continued, when a door at the far end of the hallway opened and she was suddenly free.

A figure, male from his height, ran for the stairs, and was gone before she screamed in earnest.