Annabelle was in the drawing room with her mother having early morning tea, they were both waiting patiently for the tailor that would sew Annabelle's dress for her celebration. She was unenthusiastic about sewing a dress because she knew it would be corseted.
The tailor, a slender man with a bushy mustache and a keen eye for detail, arrived at Nicholas's mansion promptly at ten o'clock in the morning. He was greeted by the butler, who escorted him to the drawing room where Annabelle was waiting.
Annabelle, looking lovely in a simple yet elegant morning dress, stood up as the tailor entered. She smiled politely and extended her hand, greeting him warmly.
"Good morning, Mr. Jenkins," she said. "Thank you for coming today. I'm so excited to get my new dress for the celebration." Truth was, she was anything but excited...
Mr. Jenkins bowed low over her hand, his eyes twinkling with pleasure. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Annabelle," he said. "I've heard so much about you, and I'm honored to be creating your coming of age dress."
As the tailor began to unpack his bags and lay out his tools, Annabelle glanced at her mother who hadn't said a word.
"Shall we get started, Miss Annabelle?" Mr. Jenkins asked, his voice gentle and soothing.
Annabelle nodded, and the tailor began to take her measurements. He wrapped the tape measure around her waist, her bust, and her hips, jotting down the numbers in a small notebook.
"Stand up straight, please, Miss Annabelle," he said, his eyes narrowing as he took her measurements. "And lift your arms, if you would."
Annabelle did as he asked, feeling a bit self-conscious as he measured the length of her arms and the width of her shoulders.
"You're going to look stunning in the dress I'm going to make for you," Mr. Jenkins said, smiling at her. "I promise you that."
As the tailor continued to take her measurements, Annabelle couldn't help but chat with him, asking him about his designs and his inspirations. She was fascinated by the way he worked, the way he seemed to bring fabric to life with his needle and thread.
"I want the dress to be perfect," Annabelle said, her eyes shining with excitement. "I want it to be the most beautiful dress I've ever worn."
Mr. Jenkins smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I understand, Miss Annabelle," he said. "And I promise you, I will do my utmost to create a dress that exceeds your expectations."
"I think we should go with the silk fabric," Annabelle said, her eyes shining with fake excitement. "And the lace trim would be perfect for the neckline."
Mr. Jenkins nodded, his face thoughtful. "I agree, Miss Annabelle," he said. "The silk will drape beautifully, and the lace will add a touch of elegance to the dress."
As they continued to discuss the details, Nicholas walked into the room, a smile on his face. "How's it going?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room.
"Mr. Jenkins is making me a beautiful dress," Annabelle said, her face lighting up with excitement, the excitement was the fact that she was seeing Nicholas.
Nicholas smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm sure you'll look stunning, Annabelle," he said and looked at her skeptically, he knew she hated dresses. "Mr. Jenkins is the best tailor in the business."
Mr. Jenkins beamed with pride, his mustache twirling upwards. "Thank you, young master," he said. "I'll make sure Miss Annabelle looks like a princess for her celebration.
The tailor, Mr. Jenkins, finished taking Annabelle's measurements and began to discuss the details of the dress with her. "I've decided on a beautiful black silk fabric with intricate sequins," he said, his eyes shining with excitement. "It will be stunning, I assure you."
Annabelle's face fell as she looked at the sketch of the dress. The sketch of the dress that Mr. Jenkins showed Annabelle depicted a stunning black evening gown with intricate details. The dress featured a corseted bodice with a sweetheart neckline, adorned with delicate sequins that sparkled like diamonds in the light. The corset was designed to accentuate Annabelle's slender waist, with a fitted silhouette that would emphasize her curves.
The full skirt fell in soft folds to the floor, with layers of tulle underneath to give it a dramatic flair. The sequins continued down the skirt, scattered in a pattern that resembled stars in the night sky. The overall effect was one of breathtaking elegance, perfect for a coming-of-age celebration.
The dress seemed to shimmer and shine in the sketch, as if it were alive. Mr. Jenkins had captured the essence of the design perfectly, and Annabelle could almost feel the weight of the fabric and the way it would move when she walked. Despite her initial reservations, she couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at the prospect of wearing such a beautiful dress.
"I don't know, Mr. Jenkins," she said hesitantly. "I was thinking maybe something a bit more... comfortable?"
Mr. Jenkins looked at her in surprise. "Comfortable, Miss Annabelle?" he repeated. "But this is a formal celebration. You want to make a good impression."
Annabelle sighed, feeling frustrated. "I know, but I don't feel like myself in dresses. Can't I wear something else? Maybe something with pants or a tunic?"
Mr. Jenkins looked uncomfortable, glancing at Annabelle's mother who was sitting on the couch, watching the exchange. "I'm afraid your mother has very specific ideas about the dress, Miss Annabelle," he said diplomatically.
Marchioness Kena spoke up, her voice firm. "Annabelle, dear, you need to wear a dress for your coming of age celebration. It's tradition. And Mr. Jenkins has designed a beautiful gown that will suit you perfectly."
Annabelle felt a surge of rebellion. She hated being forced into traditional lady clothes, which always seemed to restrict her movements and make her feel like she was suffocating under layers of fabric and expectations. "But Mother, can't I just wear something that feels like me?" she pleaded.
Her mother's expression softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. "Annabelle, I understand that you may not feel comfortable in dresses, but this is a special occasion. You need to look your best, and Mr. Jenkins's design will make you shine."
Annabelle knew she was beaten. She looked at Mr. Jenkins, who was watching the exchange with a sympathetic expression. "I'll make sure the dress is perfect, Miss Annabelle," he said, trying to reassure her. "You will look stunning, I promise."
Annabelle forced a smile, feeling a bit defeated. She knew she would have to wear the dress, but she couldn't help feeling like she was going to be trapped in a costume that wasn't truly hers.
With a sigh, she nodded, resigned to her fate. "Okay, Mr. Jenkins. Make the dress. I'll wear it."
Mr. Jenkins smiled, relieved, and began to pack up his things. "I'll get to work right away, Miss Annabelle. You won't be disappointed, I promise."
As he left, Annabelle couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. She knew she would have to put on a brave face and wear the dress, but she couldn't help wishing that she could be herself, without the expectations and traditions that seemed to suffocate her. She felt like she was being watched, and the weight of her mother's expectations was suffocating her. She decided to take a walk in the gardens, hoping the fresh air would clear her mind.
As she strolled along the winding paths, she noticed a piece of paper on a nearby bench. Curious, she picked it up and examined it. It was a note, written in elegant script,
"The night of your celebration, be prepared for more than just festivities. The shadows will reveal their secrets, and you will be at the center."
Annabelle's heart skipped a beat as she read the message. Who could have written this? And what did they mean? The words seemed to hint at something more sinister lurking beneath the surface.
She looked around, feeling like she was being watched, the very same feeling she felt when she first came to the garden. Belle glanced at the window to see if she could see anything red but she found none. The gardens seemed empty, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was hiding in the shadows, waiting for her.
Annabelle's mind was racing as she walked back to the mansion. She couldn't wait to confide in someone about the mysterious note. But who could she trust? Definitely Nicholas.
As she entered the mansion, she saw Nicholas standing in the hallway, looking concerned. "Annabelle, what's wrong?" he asked, noticing her expression.
Annabelle hesitated, unsure if she should share the note with him. But something about his kind eyes made her trust him. "I found this note in the garden," she said, handing him the paper.
Nicholas's expression darkened as he read the message. "This doesn't feel right," he mumbled to himself.
Nicholas's expression turned serious as he read the note. "Annabelle, you need to be careful," he said, his voice low. "Don't mention this to anyone, especially not Mother and Father. They wouldn't understand."
Annabelle's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you know about this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nicholas's eyes darted around the hallway, ensuring they were alone. "Just trust me, Annabelle. You need to stick with me during your celebration. Don't wander off or talk to anyone you don't know. Promise me."
Annabelle felt a shiver run down her spine. She didn't understand what was happening, but Nicholas's words sent a warning signal. "I promise," she said, her voice firm.
Nicholas nodded, his expression still serious. "Good. I'll make sure you're safe, Annabelle. Just stick with me."
As they parted ways, Annabelle couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. Nicholas knew more than he was letting on, and she was determined to find out what. But for now, she would have to play along and trust him to keep her safe.