Lackey Elemental Masters - Miss Amelia's List

1. Auflage 2024
ISBN: 978-1-78909-380-3
Verlag: Titan Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, Band 17, 352 Seiten

Reihe: Elemental Masters

The seventeenth novel in the magical alternate history Elemental Masters series heads to Regency England to navigate property acquisition, marriage proposals, and other ancient horrors. The year is 1815, and an American, Miss Amelia Stonehold, has arrived in the Devon town of Axminster, accompanied by her 'cousin' Serena Meleva. She's brought with her a list to tick off: find a property, investigate the neighbors, bargain for and purchase the property, staff the property and... possibly... find a husband. But Amelia soon finds herself contending with some decidedly off-list trouble, including the Honorable Captain Harold Roughtower, whose eyes are fixed on her fortune. Little does Amelia know that his plans for her wealth extend far beyond refurbishing his own crumbing estate-they include the hidden Roman temple of Glykon, where something very old, very angry, and very dangerous still lurks. But Roughtower isn't prepared to reckon with the fact that neither Amelia nor Serena are pushovers. And he certainly isn't ready for the revelation that he has an Earth Master and a Fire Mage on his hands-or that one of them is a shapeshifter.

Mercedes Lackey is the New York Times bestselling American fantasy author behind the Heralds of Valdemar series, The Elemental Masters series, the 100 Kingdoms series, and many more. She has published over 100 novels in under 25 years.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Lackey, Mercedes

Leseproben

2

The tiny room smelled of lavender and roses, and ever so faintly of new fabric. The modiste eyed the contents of the two trunks of clothing spread around her without the contempt that Amelia had feared. When they had been introduced to this formidable, iron-haired, perfectly coiffed lady, in her exquisite lavender silk gown, with her aristocratic posture and her knowing blue eyes, Amelia had felt as if they were in the presence of royalty and was immediately intimidated.

Serena, of course, was not intimidated in the least—she was merely intensely interested in what the modiste said and did, as she was in most things, and those knowing eyes warmed slightly whenever they rested on Amelia’s cousin. In fact, the modiste murmured a few things directed to Serena (as she examined seams and linings and trimmings) that sounded like a combination of vague compliments combined with instructions.

After examining their clothing, Madame declared judgment. “These are not bad for the amateur,” the modiste said, with a faint French accent. “Well sewn, if inexpertly cut.” She had already measured both girls with such precision that Amelia was not in the least surprised by this assessment. “And some are adequate. The muslin dresses as dresses merely need ornamentation, and I am sure you may do this yourselves once I direct what trimmings are needed and how to place them. Your simpler winter gowns may stand as they are, although if you have time, I suggest you improve them as you see the latest modes. Fortunately, the gowns needing my touch are all too big. Adjustments can be made easily.” She began plucking garments from the chaos around her and depositing them back in the trunks. “This is adequate. This will not cause you to blush. And this. And this . . .” Amelia was very glad that the military-influenced gown she had worn the first night at the Anglefords’ passed muster, as she had designed and sewn it herself. When the modiste had finished, half of the garments remained, in two piles, one hers and one Serena’s. Now the harsher critique began. “Too missish, needs a lower neck and a more sophisticated trim. Needs a flounce at the hem and the sleeves. Too plain. Much too plain.” And so on. When she had finished, she had a list of the trimmings that she wanted the girls to procure, specific to each dress, spencer, or pelisse. To Amelia’s relief, she had not gone overboard on ruffles, flounces, and lace, at least not for her—though Serena’s gowns apparently required more of all three than Amelia’s did. Braids, tapes, and embroidered ribbons in specific colors were the choices for hers. It was astonishing how closely Madame had adhered to their chosen taste. Clearly she had paid exacting attention to their existing wardrobes.

We do have an awful lot of gowns, Amelia thought on reflection. But then, there was no lack of fabric at the Stonecroft estate. Clients of the Stonecroft dyes often sent large samples, or gifts as a thank-you. Amelia’s father Charles had been experimenting with water-powered looms on his own, and everyone reaped the benefit of these experiments. And there always seemed to be trunks in the attic that could be plundered. Even drapes and old linens were not safe! Amelia hoped that Madame had not noted that many of the soft muslin gowns and some of the spencers and heavier gowns had once bedecked beds and windows. Another cause for worry. She felt it would be unbearably humiliating if Madame had made that observation.

Madame sent the trunks with the “acceptable garments” as well as the muslin dresses in them off to be put on the Angleford coach, to be delivered back to the Anglefords’ address, and two of her “girls” were called in from another workroom to deal with the garments that had not quite met her exacting standards and needed to be re-cut and fitted.

The session was unexpectedly exhausting, and once they were through it, Madame Alexander looked up from the piles of fabric in her assistants’ arms and finally smiled sympathetically. “A glass of wine, I think,” she said. “And perhaps some cakes.”

She bustled them out of her workroom and into her even smaller parlor, leaving behind her two apprentices to carry off the garments she had already decided needed to be picked apart, re-cut, and re-sewn. The parlor was a tiny crimson room with a single window with plush drapes, a table, and delicate chairs for four, with a fire burning in a peach-colored ceramic stove set into a small fireplace. One of the apprentices appeared with a tray on which were three glasses of wine and some unfamiliar, seashell-shaped cakes. “Madeleines,” said Madame. “You will like them.” She said it as a proclamation rather than an opinion, and Amelia felt that it would be a disaster not to agree with her.

But as she bit into the buttery little cake—not too sweet, so it paired beautifully with the sweet sherry Madame had served—she found herself in perfect agreement. Madame continued discussing garments with Mrs. Angleford while the two girls quietly nibbled and sipped in a state of mental exhaustion. This was very different from looking at the beautiful illustrations in The Lady’s Monthly Museum, The Lady’s Magazine, or the more lofty La Belle Assemblee, and trying to replicate a gown in the more simplified form that would suit their own relatively rustic living. No, apparently Madame intended the altered gowns to be in full accord with those shown in the pages of those august tomes. It made Amelia’s head spin.

Her first thought was But we don’t need anything this—fancy! But then she reconsidered. They needed to dress the part here, and the part was not that of girls who were as likely to find themselves helping to gather eggs as entertaining a visitor. The part was that of “daughters of landed gentlemen who just happened to also be in trade.” Those girls would never be found in aprons chasing after hens, or slogging through mud and rain in wooden Dutch clogs to save their shoes and slippers. Their gowns needed to reflect that.

A glance at Serena told her in an instant that Serena was more than rising to the occasion, she was reveling in it. Meanwhile Madame and Julia were continuing to make notes about the trimmings that they would be purchasing at the drapers’ warehouse. Only once did either Amelia or Serena speak up to contradict her.

“No swansdown!” Amelia said firmly when swansdown trimming was suggested. She’d once had a swansdown muff as a present and she’d given it away almost immediately. It had made her skin crawl.

“No indeed,” agreed Serena. “It makes us sneeze.”

Amelia cast her a grateful glance for the clever excuse; the truth was that she could not bear the thought of sacrificing any of those beautiful birds just to trim a gown or make a muff. True, she had no objection to ermine . . . but weasels were nasty little creatures, and it was easy enough to harden her heart against them. But swans! No.

Madame raised an eyebrow and shook her head slightly, but changed the order to a heavy silk braid. That suited Amelia just fine.

When the list was complete—and Amelia could only admire Madame’s memory for color, cut, and purpose of all those garments, as well as how she intended to ornament each of them—Madame paused to have the glasses and the tray of crumbs taken away, hooded her eyes, and purred, “And now we discuss the new garments.”

Julia Angleford nodded. “At least one ball gown,” she said.

“Two,” replied Madame. “Summer and winter. For the summer, the lightest of silk. For the winter, silk velvet or a silk twill or jacquard. We will have detachable long sleeves that will fit under the puffed sleeves for both, so that you will effectively have four gowns, rather than two. Shawls. An evening cloak for each. Your pelisses I will alter, your spencers you can re-trim. Possibly a new sleeveless overgown, fastened beneath the bosom, suitable for evening dress.” She rang a small bell on the table and another assistant appeared with a book of gown pictures, cut from many magazines, but all of the latest mode. Madame and Julia pored over it, with Serena and Amelia craning their necks to see what they were discussing. If this had happened before Madame had finished going through their existing clothing, Amelia would have been in a knot of even more anxiety, wondering if she was going to be stuffed into something that would leave her feeling as if she could not move without ruining what had cost so much to obtain.

And she bit her tongue to keep from protesting that they would never be attending so many balls that they would need two gowns for them. Because, she realized on quick reflection, this was not home and people had proper balls here all the time—nightly, in fact!—and not simple assemblies of just enough people to make up a set in someone’s parlor, or at most, once every month or two, in the ballroom of one of the great houses in town or the surrounding countryside.

And from the way Julia Angleford kept nodding, she was in complete accord with all of this.

It made Amelia’s head spin to think of how much this would cost . . . but Mrs. Angleford had brought out six girls, and already knew what such things entailed, and Amelia trusted that she would never, ever overspend whatever budget Papa and James had deemed appropriate.

Thank...