A VOYAGE TO REMEMBER
Chapter Eighteen
Isolde eyed the cosmetic case
warily. She'd never worn makeup before. Elizabeth laughed at her expression.
"No need to worry," the
upper class woman said. "I'm not going to make you into some harlot."
This only made Isolde's eyes
widen in shock. Elizabeth began with a foundation, a soft brush gliding across
the Welshwoman's skin.
"So," Elizabeth began
in a casual manner, "you never did tell me how you got that nasty
bruise."
Over the next half hour, as the
American lady made up her face and did her hair, Isolde told her whole story,
starting when she boarded the ship. She needed to open up to someone. It was
too hard to try to hold everything inside. Elizabeth made comments throughout,
laughing at some parts, even. Isolde's tale finished just as Elizabeth snapped
shut the cosmetic case. Isolde turned towards the mirror. She looked amazing,
becoming speechless in the process.
The bruise was invisible to the
eye. Her hair was clipped up with fancy pins that sparkled in the light. Her
eyes stood out against her usually pale complexion. Elizabeth gave a nod of
approval. She knew she had worked the magic she had been gifted with.
"The only thing now is your
clothing," Elizabeth added thoughtfully, breaking into Isolde's thoughts.
"I don't think I'd fit into
your clothes," Isolde began, looking up at the woman, who was a good six
inches taller.
"You're about my younger
sister Emily's size," she explained. "We'll make a quick stop at our
room and pick out a morning dress for you."
Before Isolde could protest,
Elizabeth picked up the suitcase and grabbed her hand. She led them to the
lift. The operator eyed Isolde with suspicion.
"What are you looking
at?" Elizabeth asked outright. She was not one to hide her thoughts.
The man quickly averted his eyes.
Isolde smiled to herself. It was now their deck. They stepped off and made
their way down a maze of hallways. Elizabeth pulled out a key to unlock a
mahogany door. Isolde heard muffled complaints and some giggling. She was
pulled in and had the entranceway closed in one swift move. Isolde could hardly
take in the lavish room at once--so many things for her eyes to be drawn to.
She suddenly saw four girls,
three younger than herself, except for one who looked to be about a year or so
older, fluttering about the room. Half of them had maids trailing after them.
They all stopped quite suddenly after noticing her. Isolde felt uncomfortable
under their steady gazes. Perhaps she should have turned down the offer.
Elizabeth ignored it all.
"Sisters," she began in
a rush with a grin, "this is my new friend, Isolde Conway. She'll be
joining us for brunch today."
The one looking to be the
youngest stepped forward. She was Isolde's height, but much thinner. Her
sun-kissed hair matched the pale yellow dress she wore. "My name's
Emily."
Another one that looked to be a
year older than the previous took the initiative. She was even taller than
Elizabeth, but their medium brown locks and blue eyes connected them. Except
for height, they could’ve been twins. She wore a pink and white dress with
matching gloves. "Erica," she said politely.
The next girl was a tad bit
older, with dirty blonde hair. She wore a burgundy dress with black lace. She
seemed downcast, almost depressed compared to the other sisters, who brought
light to the room/ "Elaine," she said quickly.
The last girl seemed to be very
judging, taking her time to walk over. She had mousy hair, the plainest of the
bunch, older than Elizabeth. A bland dress of gray adorned her body.
"Edith," she introduced in what was a very commanding voice.
"Now that you've met the
bunch," Elizabeth said with a clap of her hands, "we'll all try to
decide what dress you'll wear."
The girls all smiled instantly.
It seemed this would be quite the experience for the fashion-deprived Isolde.