Chapter 5, part 4

Ingrid did not seem to notice Catherine's shaking hands, and showed her no mercy before Catherine finally gave up and allowed a maid to take away the rest of the food. She was relieved to hear that she could go to bed, much of her brain so preoccupied with the thought of breakfast that she did not notice Ingrid's presence in the bedroom before it was to late to avoid accepting her help to get undressed.

“How on earth did you manage to get these,” Ingrid exclaimed, when she had removed the last layer of clothing from Catherine's upper body. Catherine was torn between the want to cover her front side with her hands and her scarred back with her front. If she turned around, however, it would be a lot more difficult to somehow dress herself in her nightwear.

“Did somebody whip you, my lady?” Ingrid sounded incredulous.

Catherine swallowed and closed her eyes in shame. It did not help her mood that tears had started flowing from her eyes. She had wanted to wait until she was alone before crying, but the humiliation was too much for her. She felt Ingrid's finger on her shoulder blade and did not dare to move away. Ingrid seemed oblivious to her distress.

“Is this a belt buckle? It looks like a belt buckle!”

“Would you please leave me alone, Ingrid,” Catherine managed to say. She did not think her voice gave her away, at least not as much as it could have. Ingrid immediately removed her finger from Catherine's back.

“Please forgive me, my lady. His Majesty had mentioned your difficult family, but I was not expecting … well, belt buckles.” In a surprising show of understanding she threw a nightgown over Catherine's head and allowed her to put in on on her own. “Do forgive me. I hope you sleep well.”

With that, Catherine was left almost alone in the enormous room. A servant was turning off the candles with a long stick that seemed to have been made for the purpose, and left her in the glow of a few small lamps. She crawled across the bed and crept underneath the covers, making an effort to enjoy the luxury. In the end all she could do was cry.

When she woke up the next morning, she had a magnificent headache and the first sun rays of the day were blinding her. Someone was in the process of drawing all the curtains, which seemed to take a large effort. She watched for a moment, then began crawling out of the large bed. Despite her mood the night before, she had slept better than she could remember ever having slept. Most likely due to the soft mattress and the silky covers.

Ingrid came through the door, dressed much like the day before, and with an even more efficient air about her. The preparations she had spoken about seemed to have been as good as made. In a rush of activity, Catherine was washed, dressed, and styled by a small team of women. Ingrid began laying out incredible dresses on the bed, asking Catherine to pick one or two of each selection.

Before long, her head was swimming. She had no idea which dresses to pick, and Ingrid's impatient stares did little to help her.

“Ingrid, wont you please pick some for me,” she pleaded. Ingrid nodded and left the room yet again. A strange metallic sound reached Catherine's ears, reminding her that she had heard the same noise a moment earlier. She whipped her head around and was appalled at the sight of her hair on the floor. A stunned maid was holding a pair of scissors and staring at her with blank fear in her eyes.

“I need to take off at least some of this, my lady. It looks horrible. I promise I wont take much off.” Said the woman. She sounded apologetic, as if she had somehow already sensed how much her actions would disturb the owner of the hair. Catherine stared at the strands on the floor for a moment longer, then sighed and allowed herself to fall back into the chair.

“It makes no difference,” she mumbled, and closed her eyes when the sound came back. She wanted to be alone again, so she could cry.

Dressed and covered in so much make-up that she wanted to scratch it all off just to feel it under her nails, she was allowed to have her breakfast. She concentrated on the instructions she had been given, and either she succeeded, or Ingrid had decided to allow her to have a meal in peace before her big entrance.

She felt ridiculous. The dress was, she supposed, beautiful. It was dark blue, with strings of pearls falling everywhere, a small neckline and a giant skirt that made it difficult to move through small doors. Walking lightly, as instructed, was a true challenge. Ingrid praised her on their way down the stairs, making her feel marginally better.

They crossed the road between the many buildings and entered another house that seemed larger than the one she had come from. It was not built around a yard, and the rooms inside were not spilt apart but, if possible, even larger than her so called chambers. She bit back the urge to pause, and continues to walk purposefully just ahead of Ingrid, who was subtly giving her directions.

“Please welcome the latest and final guest, Lady Catherine. The daughter of a friend of His Majesty,” someone said, loud enough for everyone to hear, but not so loud that it interrupted any conversations.

Something that looked like twenty different women, all young and pretty, and in enormous dresses similar to her own, were spread around the room, reclining in ornate chairs and talking amongst themselves. Most of them paused and looked up at her with varying degrees of boredom. She followed her instructions and smiled and courtesied at everyone. She was biting her tongue, feeling insanely stupid, but Ingrid did not seem to have any issues with her performance.

She discreetly pointed in the direction of a table surrounded by chairs, many of which were empty. Only four other women occupied the space, and it did seem like a good place to start. Ingrid stepped forward and, making sure she was not interrupting anyone, explaind Catherine's supposed situation.

“My lady Catherine has taken a vow of silence to ensure her mother's good health, and I am here to speak on her behalf,” she said in a humble tone, then drew backwards and seemed to almost disappear against the furniture. Catherine smiled and nodded at the bored faces. The women fell back into what must have been their previous conversation, held in very different, quite strong accents. Catherine felt lucky that they did do their best to speak her mother tongue, even if it was for the prince's sake.



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