"Lady Restia?" The voice of the head butler interjects, breaking the tense silence that envelops them.
"I-I beg your pardon. It was an oversight on my part. Please accept my apologies," Restia stammers, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she hastily rises to her feet and offers a respectful bow. She retreats from the scene with a quick nod, eager to evade any further repercussions. As she departs, she wonders if she imagined the man's voice questioning, "Who is she?"
Restia hurried along the corridors with a mix of urgency and caution, maneuvering skillfully to avoid colliding with any passersby until she finally reached her destination. The Jarvinen estate boasted a spacious storage room brimming with an array of garments, a place she had not visited in what felt like ages. For several years, she has consistently opted for attire in subdued hues of either brown or gray, often adorned with stains or patches. With a determined push, she swung open the heavy door and stepped inside, greeted by the unexpected sight of the Duchess conversing with the seamstress. Their gazes immediately shifted towards her as she entered, causing Restia to pause, feeling a sudden wave of apprehension washed over her.
"Ah, look who graces us with her presence," remarked the Duchess, her lovely countenance adorned with a slightly vexed smile.
"Your Highness, I was asked by the Duke to stop by," Restia responded, offering her greetings.
"And what might be the purpose of this?" inquired the Duchess, her curiosity momentarily overtaken by another query. "Please don't tell me you're here for the ball?"
Restia hesitated, unsure how to respond without incurring the Duchess's displeasure.
The Duchess chuckled lightly. "Ah, my husband does have his moments of humor. Betta, why don't you assist Restia in selecting something to wear from the leather chests in the rear?"
"Certainly, Your Highness," agreed the seamstress with a respectful nod.
The Duchess gracefully approached the door, pausing briefly by Restia's side. In a whisper, she cautioned, "Do not make a fool out of yourself," before disappearing. Left in her wake, Restia felt a sense of trepidation dampening her excitement for the upcoming celebration.
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Breaking the silence, the seamstress inquired, "Have you decided on a color for your attire, milady?"
"Not yet," came Restia's reply.
"Hmm, let's explore some options, shall we?" suggested the seamstress, leading the way to a collection of chests containing dresses of various styles and hues. However, most of them proved unsuitable, either too ostentatious or outdated in fashion. Finally, delving into the last chest, the seamstress retrieved a garment. "Try this on, milady. I believe it will complement the color of your eyes perfectly," she suggested with a smile. The dress presented an intriguing sight—a full-length purple gown, elegantly revealing the neck and shoulders, adorned with intricate gold trimmings and embellishments. Its exquisite hue harmonized with Restia's lavender eyes. Accepting the garment, Restia retreated to the dressing area to don the attire.
Emerging moments later, she cast a critical eye upon herself in the mirror. The dress hugged her figure flawlessly, eliciting an involuntary gasp of admiration from the seamstress.
"You look stunning, milady," the seamstress remarked with awe. At that moment, Restia felt transformed, shedding her guise of a mere servant to embody the regal aura of a true princess.
"Do you not think it's too extravagant, Betta?" Restia queried.
"I believe it is perfection, milady," Betta insisted, her confidence unwavering.
Restia turned gracefully to catch a glimpse of the dress's back in the mirror, watching as its layers twirled in a mesmerizing dance of perfect motion. A smile naturally graced her lips as she beheld her reflection, basking in the enchantment of the moment.
"Oh, but before we proceed, we mustn't forget the perfect pair of shoes," the seamstress interjected with palpable excitement. Temporarily vanishing from view, she reappeared moments later, presenting a pair of sandals in a lustrous gold hue. "Try these on, milady," the seamstress urged.
Slipping into the sandals, Restia felt a surge of contentment as they hugged her feet snugly, a perfect fit. "Betta, if you don’t mind, may I request one more thing?" Restia inquired.
"Of course, milady. What is it?" Betta responded obligingly.
"Do you happen to have gloves that would complement this dress?" Restia queried.
"Indeed, milady. Let me find a suitable pair," Betta replied, disappearing momentarily into the depths of the drawers. Upon her return, she presented a set of exquisite purple gloves.
As Restia adorned them, she couldn't help but consider their practicality. Years of toiling the soil, performing laundry, and various household tasks had left her hands calloused and rough—a stark contrast to the refined elegance expected of nobility. Thus, she deemed it wise to conceal them beneath the graceful guise of the gloves. As for her birthmark, a bit of makeup borrowed from the maids would mask it adequately.
"That should suffice. Thank you immensely, Betta. Your assistance has been invaluable," Restia expressed her gratitude warmly.
For the very first time in her existence, Restia found herself eagerly anticipating an event. Despite the scorching heat she endured while toiling in the backyard to gather the ripe tomatoes that afternoon, a radiant smile graced her lips, brightening the remainder of her day.