Chapter Five

The changing room was a stark contrast to the café, evoking the rich textures and colors of a forest at dusk. Candles and an amber fire cast their glow over gowns and headpieces. Irene guessed they were replicas of thirteenth-century costumes. Clothes in shades of berry red, pine needle green, and starlight silver were draped over chairs, a sofa, and hung from gilded dividers.

A young woman about Irene’s age, with short clipped dark hair and a face that reminded Irene of a cute pixie elf, snatched a bundle of gowns and disappeared behind one of the partitions. The rugby player’s mother was the only other person in the room, and she seemed as confused as Irene felt.

“I think they want us to choose a costume,” Irene said as she moved toward the older woman.

The woman’s brow furrowed. Irene fought the impulse to reach out and guide her toward a chair. Irene didn’t know how the woman would react to a stranger. She looked lost.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Irene.”

The woman turned toward her slowly and focused on Irene’s outstretched hand, but there was little or no understanding behind her eyes. Irene wondered if she even knew that she was in a castle, let alone on a tour that required costumes.

Candle flames rippled as a woman entered and stepped between Irene and the older woman. The only splash of color on the newcomer’s midnight-blue gown was a red plaid sash draped over one shoulder. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun covered with a starched veil, but rebel strands of hair had escaped to frame her face, hinting at a thick mane of curls. She reminded Irene of her firm’s principal stockholder, who wore only blacks and charcoal grey and after a lifetime of making difficult decisions considered smiling a foreign concept.

The woman who’d entered folded her hands in a tight grip at her waist. “Good. You are all here. I apologize for being late. Business concerns. You may address me as Lady Roselyn. I believe you all have met my sisters, Fiona and Bridget. And as you can see, we have provided costumes in a variety of sizes and shades. Most of our guests begin with a conservative choice and then change later into formal attire for our Christmas Eve ball at midnight. There is no sense starting out like peacocks. What would come after? A gown fit only for a Mardi Gras float?”

“I happen to adore Mardi Gras,” said the pixie-faced young woman as she emerged from behind the divider. She wore a form-fitting red silk gown that complimented her complexion to perfection as she twirled around in a circle to show it off. “In New Orleans they know how to make a good first impression.”

“As do you, Julia,” Lady Roselyn said with the hint of a smile. “I stand corrected. You have made an exceptional choice. Now for introductions.” She turned first toward the rugby player’s mother. “Ann,” Lady Roselyn said softly, “we are honored you’ve joined us, and we have your selections set aside.” Lady Roselyn hesitated for a moment as though waiting for a response. When there was none, she continued, “Julia is the lovely woman in the red dress, and Irene is to my right. Remember that in the thirteenth century it was the fashion for a lady to wear a head covering. We have a selection of simple veils, such as the one I’m wearing, or the more elaborate, conical-style hats. Oh, and two of our rules is that we address each other on a first name basis only, and that we never, ever, ask guests their occupations.”

“Rules,” Julia said, with an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t you and your sisters ever get tired of them?”

Lady Roselyn ignored Julia as she guided Ann over to a selection of gowns with matching hats and veils. “Rules are what make the tour experience operate smoothly. You should be pleased there is not a rule against our guests returning time and time again.”

The tension between them mounted into a good old-fashioned stare-down contest.

Ann broke the silence as she flung one of the head coverings to the ground. “I hate hats.”

Everyone in the room was too stunned to react. Ann hadn’t said one word to anyone since she’d arrived. Irene had never thought it was because Ann couldn’t talk. The more likely reason was that she hadn’t had the desire. Her mother had also behaved that way toward the end.

Lady Roselyn regained her composure first and reached up to unpin her veil. She then tossed it aside. “I loathe them as well. I never understood the appeal. Very confining. I proclaim that, from this moment on, hats and veils are optional.”

Lady Roselyn’s dramatics seemed to calm Ann. She sat back down and folded her hands in her lap, resuming her distant gaze. Lady Roselyn kept her attention on Ann for a few more moments before turning back to Irene and Julia. “Now, if there aren’t any more questions, you are free to make your selections.”