Chapter 43: Little Pieces Of My Heart
SOPHIA
I stood in the foyer as the housekeeper answered the door. She returned quickly and said, "A Miss Plinkett is here to see you, Mrs. Willowmarch."
"Oh! Let her in."
The housekeeper opened the door wider and gestured for Tilda to enter. I greeted her with a smile. "I’m so glad you were able to reschedule your time," I said.
"Well, your carriage disintegrating and you disappearing into a haunted forest was the best excuse I’ve ever gotten for canceling an appointment." She looked around. "This house doesn’t feel like you at all. If I had to name it, I’d call it Doom and Gloom."
"I’ve always thought it looked like an old casket," I admitted. "Doom and Gloom is certainly closer to the mark than Amaranth Manor."
"You know you can give this place a makeover, too."
"This is the Willowmarch family home. I wouldn’t be so bold as to change anything."
"Why not? Who’s going to stop you?" She spun around, and said, "Paint the walls pink! Put polka dots on the floor. Throw away the furniture and put a pool in the living room."
"That sounds amazing," I said, laughing. "But I fear all the Willowmarches would turn over in their graves."
"Boring," said Tilda. She thrust a bag at me. "Here. I threw a little something together for you, until we get your full wardrobe done."
I looked inside and saw dark purple fabric lined with silver trim. I couldn’t wait to see what amazing dress Tilda had created for me.
"Thank you, Tilda. Now, shall we go upstairs and look at all the expensive, useless crap I have?"
"Lead the way."
When we got to the third staircase, Tilda leaned against the wall and panted. "Do you hate me? What’s with these stairs?"
"I know. It’s awful."
"You need an elevator."
"What’s an elevator?"
"It’s a ... kinda of a box thing. You go inside it and it takes you up and down tall buildings."
I frowned. "I don’t think I understand what you mean."
"Oh, nevermind. It’s a dream of mine. That, and cars and milk tea and internet." She sighed. "God, I hate this book."
"What book?"
She waved off my question. She straightened, put her hands on her hips, and sucked in a deep breath. "All right, let’s go. Hopefully I don’t die before we get your bedroom."
When we finally made it, Tilda immediately sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace. "Well, I live here now. Because I am not going down those stairs. I’d rather risk my life jumping from the window."
"I haven’t tried that," I said. "Here, have some tea."
I poured her a cup, and she downed it in one go. ’Thanks. Though I’d prefer whiskey." She groaned as she heaved herself from the chair. "Okay. Let’s go see your closet of horrors."
I took her inside the dressing room. She silently looked through the dresses, the hoops, the corsets, the wigs, the shoes, and the jewelry. Finally, she looked at me and gave a low whistle. "Wow. I mean ... wow. This is worse than I imagined. Are you telling me noblewomen dress like this on purpose?"
"Oh, yes."
"It’s like Baroque and Gothcore had a baby. A very ugly baby."
"Baroque? Gothcore?"
"Fashion terms," she said. "What I’m saying is, I see why you want to set this shit on fire. But ... I think we can save the material and repurpose the hoops and corsets. The wigs, however. Holy Yves Saint Laurent. Those should be destroyed immediately."
"Bonfire?" I said, grinning.
"Oh, for sure." Tilda started pulling dresses off the racks and creating piles. "This pile is for lost causes. The one is for reclamation. This one is for charitable causes."
"Which charitable causes?"
"If you’ll give me permission, I can turn these into clothes for the orphanage. Those kids never have decent clothes, shoes, food. It breaks my heart every time I go there."
"Why do you go there?"
"Because I need to rack up karma points for all my bad deeds." She grinned. "I’m a villainess, you know."
"That sounds fun. Can I join that club?"
"We welcome all dark-hearted women."
I laughed. "I’ll bring the tea cakes."
It took most of the afternoon to go through the dresses and shoes. The wigs were easy. We plucked all the jewelry from them and then piled them in a corner. When we were finished, Tilda laughed. "It looks like Bigfoot is taking a nap."
"Bigfoot?"
"He’s a creature who lives in the woods. He likes to leave really big footprints in mud."
"I’ve never heard of such a monster."
"Just another thing from the place where I used to live. In any case, those wigs are horrible and need to die."
"Agreed."
Hannah appeared at the dressing room entrance. "Dinner is ready, Mrs. Willowmarch."
"Would you like to dine with us?"
"I’m starving. I could eat a whole cow."
Tilda wasn’t kidding. At dinner, she ate like someone who was never going to eat again. As she put another juicy piece of meat on her plate, she looked at me. "You’re doing that thing I’ve seen a lot of noble ladies do. You pinch tiny portions, eat like five bites, and then claim to be full."
"Overindulgence is frowned upon," I said. "I was trained since I was very young that a lady doesn’t have an appetite, lest we be seen as vulgar and an embarassment to our husbands."
Tilda rolled her eyes. "Fuck that. You’re a grown-ass woman who can eat whatever she wants. You’re rich, Sophia. Buy all the decadent food you want and eat it all." She pinched a large hunk of meat and put it on my plate. "Smash the patriarchy, baby."
"I don’t know what you mean., but I think I like the sentiment." I shoved the whole piece of braised pork in my mouth and chewed happily. After swallowing, I sighed in satisfaction. "That was so good."
"Eat more." Tilda put more meat on my plate and added a couple of veggies. "And I saw that cake over there. We’re going to eat that, too."
