Over this petticoat went another one, this one of emerald green taffeta. Dougless began to cheer up. The taffeta rustled when she moved and the fabric was beautiful.
Honoria picked up a dress of rust-colored brocade with a huge abstract design of black flowers. The dress was not easy to get into. Over Dougless’s shoulders was a crisscross network of silk cords, a pearl at every joint. The front of the bodice was fastened with hooks and eyes that looked strong enough to hold army tanks together. An embroidered band concealed the closure.
There were no sleeves on the dress, but Honoria attached them separately, pulling them up over the long sleeves of the linen shirt underneath. At the shoulder the sleeves were big and puffy; then they tapered to the small wrists. The sleeves weren’t solid fabric but strips of hemmed emerald taffeta, fastened every few inches by a gold square set with a pearl.
Dougless touched the pearls while Honoria hurriedly and efficiently went around Dougless with a long hatpin type of instrument pulling bits of the white linen out the cuts in the sleeves.
By now it had taken Honoria an hour and a half to put these garments on Dougless and she wasn’t finished yet.
Next came the jewels. A belt of gold links with rough-cut square emeralds went around Dougless’s now-tiny waist. An enameled brooch with pearls around it was pinned in the middle of the bodice, and two gold link chains went off to either side, fastening under her arms. Honoria picked up a collar that was a limp ruffle of linen, put it around Dougless’s neck and tied it in back. (Later, Dougless found out that in 1564, Nicholas’s ruff had been stiff with yellow starch, but, now, a mere four years earlier, no one had heard of starch.) To conceal where the ruff joined the dress, Honoria slipped a third belt of square gold links about her neck.
“You may sit,” Honoria said softly.
Dougless tried to walk, but she was wearing somewhere around forty to fifty pounds of clothing and the steel corset was preventing her from breathing.
Stiffly, her head up off the scratchy ruff, Dougless made her way to a stool and collapsed. She did not, however, slump. One does not slump when wearing a steel corset.
Dougless sat rigidly while Honoria combed Dougless’s thick auburn
hair, then pulled it back from her face and braided it. Then, using bone pins, she fastened the braids up. Over the braids, on the back of Dougless’s head, she fastened a little cap that was like a hair net, but again, pearls were at each joint.
Honoria helped Dougless stand up. “Yes,” she said, smiling, “you are most beautiful.”
“As pretty as Lettice?” Dougless asked without thinking.
“Lady Lettice is most beautiful also,” Honoria said, her eyes cast downward.
Dougless smiled. Tactful, very tactful.
Honoria had Dougless sit on the edge of the bed, then put out her leg, and Honoria slipped fine, hand-knit wool stockings up to Dougless’s knees; then she tied them with pretty ribbon garters embroidered with bumblebees. She slipped cork-soled, soft leather shoes on Dougless’s feet, then helped Dougless to again stand up.
Slowly, Dougless walked toward the window, then back. The clothes were ridiculous, of course. They were heavy, unwieldy, terrible for your lungs, and yet . . . She put her hands to her waist. She could practically encircle it with her hands. She was wearing pearls, gold, emeralds, satin, and brocade, and in spite of the fact that she could barely breathe and her shoulders were already aching from the weight, she’d never felt so beautiful in her life.
When she twirled about, the skirts belled out from her prettily. She looked up at Honoria. “Whose dress is this?”
“Mine own,” Honoria said softly. “We are near the same size.”
Dougless went to her and put her hands on her shoulders. “Thank you very much for lending it to me. It was very generous of you.” She kissed Honoria on the cheek.
Confused and blushing, Honoria turned away. “Lady Margaret wishes you to play for her tonight.”
“Play?” Dougless was looking at the sleeves of her gown. Real gold, not fake. How she wished she had a full-length mirror! “Play what?” Her head came up. “You mean like play an instrument? I can’t play anything.”
Honoria was obviously shocked. “They do not teach music in your country?”
“They teach it, but I didn’t take any.”
“What does a woman learn in your country if not sewing and music?”
“Algebra, literature, history, things like that. Can you play an instrument? Sing?”
“Most certainly.”
“Then how about if I teach you some songs and you play and sing them?”
“But Lady Margaret—”
“Won’t mind. I’ll be the bandleader.”