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"Knock, knock! The Ball is Saturday, are you getting ready for it?" my father had come into my study. He caught me as I was looking at a butterfly with my microscope.
I looked up. "These swallowtail butterflies will be emerging from their cocoons soon. I was planning on a field trip into the hills to watch that happen."
"Oh shush, shush! The butterflies do that every year, but the Baron has a commemorative ball for the victory over the Turks only once. Everyone will be there."
"But father..."
"Everyone will be there. You've been a way a long time, Amoletta, you need to meet people again, not butterflies. And, it's a costume ball, you'll have lots of fun."
I smiled, and got an idea. "A costume ball, you say? Yes, that sounds like fun! OK, I'll plan on being there. Thank you, papa."
I really like it when I can please my father. He is always so good to me. What came as an idea was: I would go to the Costume Ball as a huntress! That way I could do my field trip in the morning, and go straight to the ball from my field trip without spending hours and hours on costume preparations. I would just wear my field trip outfit, and say I was a huntress. I really wanted to do my field trip. My father sometimes laughs at me and says I'm too brainy to catch a good husband, but he has never stopped me from studying, and he loves it when I show him new things I have discovered about plants and animals and trees and nature.
"You would be a good match for the Baron." he would say when I tell him about new wonders, "He loves nature, too."
The Baron! Oh my goodness! The Baron Rostov, savior of the Kalzov Valley and man of the world! Yes, I knew of him, In fact, I knew as much about him as I could, and I loved hearing more. But why would such a great man have any interest in bookish little me? "You're very sweet, daddy." told him when he said this, and I smiled at him.
"Seriously, my dear. I know from personal experience that the Baron likes intelligent women, and if you were to match up with him, it would be wonderful for the family." When my father said he knew from personal experience, he meant it. He was one of the Baron's inner circle. He had helped the Baron throw off the Kalnichovs and Turks last year.
"I'll be there, daddy." he left and I resumed my microscoping.
Ten minutes later I got another, "Knock, knock." but this one was not so pleasant. It was my father's new fiancé, Allura Vinzeta. He met her just two months ago in Venice when he came there to bring me home from finishing school. He was introduced to her by my drama teacher. I consider my drama teacher to be a hideous person. He doesn't talk well about drama, and when he isn't talking about drama, he is talking about who he met and what they wore -- incredibly boring topics to me. But, when he met my father and found out how important he was, he turned on all his shmooze charm. He became completely fascinated with my father whenever he was around. For me, it was funny to watch, and since they would know each other for only two weeks, I didn't caution my father on what a creep he was. The drama teacher showed my father around Venice, and in the process he did some surprising harm: he introduced my father to Allura Vinzeta.
I still can't figure out what my father sees in her: She won't be seen unless she is wearing a fancy dress and being followed by servants, she puts on her makeup with a trowel and her hair is always "up" in some fashion that takes an hour to assemble. But somehow, she is now his object of affection. I don't mind my dad having an object of affection, or even a new wife, but I sure think he could do better... much better. (my mother died years ago, of a fever.)
"Hello Allura." I say evenly. She waddles to my side doing the sort of half walk, half minuet that I'm sure she thinks is part of her charm.
"Oh... your doing more science, aren't you?" she says while looking at my microscope. I think she was hoping it was some kind of glass-and-metal pet, that she could understand my having an interest in. Then she gets to the point, "Your father asked me to help you with your dress for the ball."
"Oh, that's all right...."
She interrupts, "It's no problem at all, dear. Should we start now?"
I think about brushing her off, but I think better of it. If she's to become my stepmother, it would be best to be on her good side.
However, I also reflect on the fact that this is the third time she will have meddled in my affairs in the two months since I've known her, and I was not happy with either of the other two times. In both cases I followed her advice as best I could, and came out looking like a foolish little girl, not the polished debutante she told me she was trying to make me. And, I'd paid enough attention in finishing school in Venice to know what part of the problem was: her advice was strange!
We spent the day with dressmakers and costumers as she made selections for my ball dress.
"I think... we will dress you up as... a tigress! Ummm?" she said, and she looked at me as if I was six and she had just given me candy... like she was expecting me to squeal with delight. It got worse. My idea of a tiger costume would be a form-fitting full body suit of some sort. Her idea of me as a "tigress" was having me in a huge hoop dress with orange and black stripes, and wearing cute little kitty cat ears, and a kitty cat mask with bouncy black whiskers sprouting out from it. Oh, it was so hideous! It would have been a bee costume if it weren't that it had ears instead of antenna! But as I watched this abomination of a costume come together, I finally figured out what was going wrong with all her advice: She was dressing me and telling me how to act as if I was old and ugly and had a lot to hide. She was dressing me so I was complementing her look... making her look better. Ah hah! Now that I figured this out... Ouch! It was a good thing I was planning on going with my huntress outfit, or I'd be in a terrible quandary.
Discovering this also made me wonder more about her. Her having bad fashion sense was nothing I could complain to my father about, but it could make life miserable for me if she kept trying to dress me, and I already knew she was a very pushy person.
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