To Sort Such Needful Ornaments

"But small to greater matters must give way."

Disclaimer: All opinions are the characters' and not mine. I love all of my CC!

October 19th

Mistress Starveling was overseeing the evacuation of her dominion: the seamstress' workroom at Capulet Manor. She was a fastidious but nervous woman. Lady Juliette had asked for use of the room to debate styles of gown with her friends in secrecy, and the seamstress was fretting over the works-in-progress and the general condition of the wardrobe.  Almost every piece was to go out, even the lowliest scrap of fabric. Likewise were to go the many needles and bobbins and other tools of the craft. What couldn't be carried out would be pushed aside and carefully stacked.

"I hear there are ten gowns so far," one of the needlewomen whispered to another. "Ten, can you imagine, when anything she wears on one day is better than any of our church best?"

"Less imaging," Mistress Starveling chided, "and more working. Those fine gowns keep you in coin and bread." She did not add that at least one of them was sure to be at a sudden lack of both when Lady Juliette left Capulet Manor. She had probably twice as many gowns as her sister, and it would take several more sets of twin infants to make up the work that required so many needlewomen.

A somewhat somber Juliette appeared in the workroom just as the field marshal was closing up the chest that housed all of the costly trimmings. "How are you getting on?” She couldn't help smiling when the poor woman stopped everything to curtsy. “Please, don’t stop your work for my sake. Although, you needn't empty the room, Mistress Starveling. We won’t touch your work, and you’ll be here, besides.”

"All the same, m'lady, if makes no difference to you."

"Certainly not." Even if it did, Juliette was in no mood to argue. Her brother was stomping all over her dynastic plans by acting like an ape, and her fiancé was acting quite strangely. She was struggling daily to contain a desire to knock their heads together. Today, however, she had more pressing matters to settle. "My friends will be here in about an hour."

"All will be ready, m'lady." Mistress Starveling waited for the lady to vacate the room before resuming her work of clearing it out.

Shortly thereafter, the workroom was filled with young ladies. Juliette had invited Hermia and Georgiana first, then two of her cousins, Katharine and Rosaline Gale, and, at the last minute, Miranda. (She was on frosty terms with Miranda, but she hoped Hermia would give her some credit for the effort.) The six personalities in the room were disparate enough to guarantee either honesty or chaos.

The five ladies had, by the bride's request, sent anything of their own that might be a suitable style to inspire a wedding gown. Juliette had commissioned three gowns on her own and also had her mother's and grandmother's wedding gowns available, but nothing had satisfied her. Fitzwilliam's fairy tale had only confirmed her idea that she deserved to look her absolute best on her wedding day.

Besides the ladies, one other voice was to be heard from. Consort had sent down an ancient family gown that had lived in a chest for decades and a notorious headdress that had been worn as recently as Regan's wedding. Neither was anything Juliette would dream of wearing herself, but she thought it would unite everyone to start the gathering with laughter. She could hardly keep her composure when she showed herself.

Katharine spoke first. "I like it." All the other ladies looked at her with their particular kind of shock. "Why are you all glaring at me like that?"

"The dress is yellowed, the trim is older than parts of this house, and you're blind if you think that thing in her hair is anything but horrible," Miranda insisted.

"If it's so horrible, why is it on the heads of half the women in the portrait gallery?"

"I'm trying on the next gown," Juliette muttered, pulling the ornament out of her hair with a frustrated groan. When Mistress Starveling reached for a gown with a large skirt, she shook her head and pointed toward a pale gown with a striking gold bodice. It was her sister's, and something she had long coveted. The color of the fabric was questionable, but she could choose a better shade for her own.

"I always thought that would look better on you than me," Hermia said.

Rosaline commented, "It's rather ostentatious."

Miranda added, "That bodice would be a nightmare to kneel in, and the neckline is unflattering."

Georgiana didn't like the dress at all, but she wouldn't dare say so. Instead, for lack of anything to add, she asked Juliette what she thought of the gown herself.

"I don't know. I think I'll try another." Dejected, she disappeared behind the screen and didn't care what Mistress Starveling put her into next. Her mind started to wander down the road of marital doubts. Perhaps the difficulty with the gown was a sign. Perhaps she would be better suited to tormenting animals at a fair or living in a cloister of nuns. At least nuns never had doubts about what to wear. When sanity and awareness returned to her, she realized she was almost entirely fastened into the next gown.

Juliette could hardly believe her own eyes. It was well-made and undoubtedly expensive, but it was somehow barely above a hair-cloth smock in fashion and comfort. Had she wished herself into some elaborate nun's outfit with her thoughts? "Ah, Mistress Starveling... well, what is this thing?"

"'Twas the next gown in the cabinet, m'lady." She herself had taken a second look at it before pulling it out. It was finer than anything she herself would ever own, but it was not a gown for any bride, much less a young and lively woman like Lady Juliette. Still, one of the other ladies in the room had sent it, and all of them vastly outranked a mere seamstress. Mistress Starveling didn't wish to offend by omitting the gown.

"Do you think I should bother to show myself in it?"

"Perhaps you ought to let your friends decide, m'lady?"

Juliette tried to reason with herself. The gown was nicely made, even if it was too muddy for a bride and too conservative for a nineteen year-old. One of her friends might have an idea, and she ought to be open to ideas when everything else so far had failed.

The general gasp at her appearance told her that one could in fact be too open to ideas.

"I sent that gown, coz," Rosaline said proudly. "I've never worn it, and I would be pleased to give it to you if you like the fabric and trimmings."

Hermia scowled at her cousin. "Are you completely off your head?"

"What is wrong with the gown?"

"What isn't?"

"A wedding takes place in a church. That is the perfect sort of gown for an occasion in a church."

"If she was being buried!"

"Hermia is right," Miranda said. "These high-neck gowns aren't going to suit her. She needs something there to draw the eye and remind everyone that she has breasts."

Juliette cried, "What did you say?"

"Well, they aren't very big, and they could get lost in the fabric."

Hermia turned toward her cousin and whispered in a low, tight voice, "Miranda, dear, shut up."

"But-"

"For me, please?"

Miranda relented. "Anything for you."

A large array of gowns came and went, representing the various tastes of Juliette's friends. There was never a gown that everyone agreed upon and none that Juliette immediately felt was the perfect dress. After all the shapes and colors that were picked part and scrutinized, she was despairing of ever finding anything. Instead of a bride's joy, she was filled with bitterness and frustration.

One of the last gowns was a simple style, high-waisted with decoration below the bust and along the sleeves - it wasn't quite singing to her, but it was lovely. If nothing else, it was blue, a favorite and flattering color, and this momentarily pleased her. She emerged with the hope of a positive reaction.

"Ugh, blue," Katharine groaned. "What a horrendous color."

Georgiana saw Juliette's disappointment and ventured a positive comment. "That style of gown flatters your figure, and it makes you look taller." She knew as much from seeing her mother in the gown more than once. "It is, perhaps, a little too simple for a bride in its current state."

"Perhaps if we added a layer to it," Hermia said, "and then trimmed it elaborately? The cut is attractive, and if the fabric was more delicate-"

"Oh, just try something else," Katharine sighed. "Something more complex that that rag."

Hermia and Georgiana both saw what the others did not: the tension in Juliette's shoulders, the decline in her posture, and the aura of defeat collecting around her. Though they were not close, they formed a silent, unspoken agreement to do something for their sister. "Ladies," Hermia began, "can we remember our purpose, and that the gowns are merely for ideas? Groaning and insults are unhelpful."

Katharine protested, "But I-"

"Coz, this isn't about you." Hermia glared at her until she was certain Katharine would be quiet. She had always known her cousin's mouth to be twice as big as her brain. "If we want to eliminate colors, let's do it now, and then it's finished. Red is certainly out of the question." Though Hermia wore red often, her sister did so sparingly, believing it clashed with the hair they had inherited from their father.

Miranda added, "It's a happy occasion, so nothing horrendously dark and dull."

"Pink and yellow are not flattering to her complexion," Rosaline observed.

"And not blue," said Katharine, "because it's horrible."

Georgiana had resolved to be above taking any comments about a favorite and family color personally, but Katharine was making a trial of it. All of this would be tucked away for future recollection - Katharine Gale was also an archer. "Perhaps, since we have excluded so much, we ought to consider what would be flattering."

"I looked good in my mother's white gown," Hermia boasted, "and my sister has a very similar complexion."

"White is very becoming," Georgiana agreed.

"And maidenly," said Rosaline.

Katharine added, "And expensive!"

The chattering went on for several more minutes. White won the day, but a debate raged over damask and satin. Ornamentation was a battlefield of competing choices, but tradition gave support to either silver or gold. Nothing was heard from the bride during all of this, and she made no announcement of herself when she came out from behind the screen. Hermia was first to notice Juliette and the others quickly followed.

"Oh, that's lovely!"

"The cut is so flattering."

"Wouldn't that be beautiful in white?"

"Two layers of white. We can slim down the sleeves and adjust the bottom of the skirt, so it will drape nicely when she kneels. If we add some detail to the stomach and to the skirt..."

"I see you've decided everything for me!" Juliette teased. But she was smiling, and she was happy. The color was unflattering and the bodice was too big, but the potential was there. She saw it as it would be, in plain white with gold ornaments and embroidery. When everyone looked at her, she would be proud of what they saw, and that was enough reason to be happy for today. "Ladies, I believe I have a gown."

They agreed with spontaneous applause, their one act of unity for the afternoon. Immediately after, they started to break off into their other areas of interest. Katharine started to daydream about jewelry, and Rosaline started a heated debate with Miranda about the 'proper' way to wear one's hair in church. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, Hermia was itching to talk to her sister. She chased off Mistress Starveling, who had been helping Juliette back into her day dress.

"You're going to look beautiful."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. Not as beautiful as I did, but very close."

Juliette laughed and playfully smacked her sister's arm. "You're cruel."

"Something you will miss when you leave." After a pause, she added, "I still don't understand why you are living there."

The truth was that Juliette was looking forward to living in a place that didn't constantly remind her of her responsibilities. Capulet Manor was often more like a monument than a home to her. She hid, as she sometimes did, behind a smile. "As much as I would enjoy competing with Puck for Fitzwilliam's attention, I don't think I could convince him otherwise after all Puck's said about the house being haunted by gh-"

"Don't say that word," Hermia groaned. "He has the ears of a Fae and the hearing of a dog."

"True. Anyway, it works out for the best this way. I do need to have a place to go to wait for him to come groveling after we have our first married argument, after all."

"The rest of us make do with sending them to sleep in a chair or on a bench, you know."

"Why would he sleep in a chair when there are empty bedrooms?"

Hermia snickered and shook her head. "I have so much to teach you."

Next Post: "Beware of entrance to a quarrel."