“Why do you have a notebook with you?”

Andy looked down at Caroline, who was looking right back at her with an inquisitive expression. “I like to write,” Andy said, unconsciously gripping her notebook tighter. Her parents were not fond of this little hobby of hers. Caroline’s question had inadvertently brought to mind a more unpleasant aspect of the life she was leaving behind.

“Oh.”

“All the time?” Cassidy piped up, mirroring her sister’s earlier curious expression.

“Whenever I feel like it,” Andy said with a smile.

“Well, Mummy does whatever whenever she feels like doing too,” Cassidy said thoughtfully, and Andy’s attention was instantly drawn at the mention of the word “Mummy”.

“Oh?” Andy said, interested.

“Yeah. Papa says that Mummy’s the most difficult woman he’s ever met,” Cassidy said, skipping beside Andy as they took a stroll. The boat deck was spacious, Andy thought, graciously smiling at a passing gentleman who had tipped his hat to her. The golden warmth of the afternoon sun felt comfortable against Andy’s cheek – at this, she was glad that she had decided to forgo wearing her hat - despite the slight chilly breeze. Andy regretted not bringing along her fur muffs and held her hands close to her midriff.

From the corner of her eye, Andy could see Cassidy watching her, trying to gauge her reaction. “Well, what do you think?” Andy asked, turning the question on the asker. Andy knew that the little girl was testing her, perhaps to see how far they could trust her and Andy refused to take the bait. Besides, she had been brought up to learn how not to judge someone based on hearsay. The girls had wanted to explore the ship and had wanted to drag Andy along, because Andy was instant credibility. Not wanting to ruin the light atmosphere she found herself in but also not wanting to be caught in trouble (Andy didn’t doubt for one moment that her young companions would surely be up to something if opportunity presented itself), she had suggested that they could go to the boat deck where being prim and proper wasn’t a requirement (not officially so, but Andy had taken liberties).

“Mummy is difficult to please,” Cassidy said, looking around as though she was afraid there were people eavesdropping on them.

Andy looked to Caroline to see her nodding in agreement. Truth be told, Andy couldn’t recall the last time she had met children who were so entirely unafraid of adults – timidity wasn’t even in their vocabulary. Andy’s experience with children was confined to those she met while calling upon family or friends with children and they were incredibly well-behaved, believing that they shouldn’t speak unless spoken to.

“Is she?” Andy asked, wanting to know more about the woman she had never met but had heard so much about in the span of an hour and a half. Nobody could say that curiosity didn’t become Andrea Sachs.

“Oh yes, she doesn’t like things to be other than absolutely perfect,” Cassidy said.

Andy had already ascertained that Cassidy was more expressive and talkative than her sister. “Perfection must be very difficult to achieve,” Andy offered, not wanting to participate in a one-sided conversation. She glanced at Caroline, who seemed to be listening to the conversation but keeping her attention elsewhere. “What’s your mother’s name?” Andy asked, on impulse, and then regretted her bluntness with an undetectable wince.

“Miranda,” Caroline said “Mummy’s name is Miranda,” she said again, as though for emphasize.

So ‘Mummy’ now had a name. Andy beamed, pleased that the little investigation she was subconsciously running in her mind on the mystery woman was making progress

Miranda.

“Everything Mummy wears looks beautiful. Mummy always looks pretty,” Cassidy said, dreamily. “She says that when I grow up, I’ll get to wear more pretty dresses.” She turned her gaze on Andy, assessing Andy’s fashion sense, it seemed.

Andy smiled. “I’m sure,” she said, trying not to sound condescending and patted the little girl’s shoulder. Andy wondered if Cassidy’s wardrobe was larger than her own. Probably.

“Cassidy! Caroline!”

Andy looked up immediately at the sharp voice, accompanied with two short gasps of surprise from her young friends. She was met with the sight of a redheaded woman walking so fast towards her that Andy thought she would be run over by the charging woman. She quickly drew up to Andy and seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown on closer view.

“Caroline. Cassidy. Your mother is looking for you.” Every word sounded like it was spoken through clenched teeth, though it appeared to not be the case as far as Andy could see, and laced with panic. “I have been searching for you ever since we boarded!”

“Oh!” Caroline cried. “Is Mummy angry?” she added, timidly.

“No, when is your mother ever angry with you?” the woman said, sounding envious and Andy frowned in confusion. The other woman seemed to realize the bitterness in her voice and cleared her throat, ignoring Andy completely. “No. Of course not, darlings. Come along now,” she said, gently, reaching out and both girls willingly placed their hands in hers, one on each side. “You haven’t had lunch and your mother is beside herself with worry about where you had disappeared to.”

“We didn’t mean to make Mummy worry,” Cassidy said, looking the slightest bit remorseful. “But wait.” Cassidy held her ground firmly. Andy could actually see the other woman swallow. “Emily, this is Andrea,” she said, looking up at the redheaded woman who sniffed, and then at Andy. Andy could sense the irritation in the other woman’s gaze, possibly because this was delaying things further.

“Nice to meet you,” Andy said politely, and smiled awkwardly as she sensed Emily looking her up and down. Emily was beautiful, with pretty blue eyes and rosy cheeks. It was most probable that Emily was the girls’ nanny and yet, Andy could feel that it was not the general perception of anyone who bothered to look at them. Andy looked more of a nanny than Emily did. Andy fought the urge to squirm under the obviously English woman’s gaze.

Andy’s thoughts were proven right – somewhat - when a moment later, Cassidy said; “Emily helps Mummy do things.”

“Like take care of the both of you,” Emily said drily without humour. “It’s nice to meet you too, Andrea,” Emily said, haughtily straightening her shoulders, inevitably showing off her exquisitely tailored line jacket. Emily’s red hair was completely visible under the elaborate tilted feather hat she wore and Andy found herself wondering if everyone associated with Miranda – it was a beautiful name, Andy thought randomly – was beautiful (and had blue eyes) and fashionable. Andy clamped her mouth shut before she could laugh at the absurdity of her thoughts when she realized that she didn’t know anyone else associated to Miranda. Andy had not even seen the woman before, much less know the woman.

“Is there something irrepressibly funny?” Emily’s sharp voice cut into Andy’s thoughts and Andy blinked, focusing on Emily’s face again.

“No, no. Of course not.” Andy tried hard not to smirk. “You shouldn’t let me keep you any longer,” she said. “Girls,” she acknowledged, giving Caroline and Cassidy a friendly nod before tilting her head slightly at Emily.

Emily sniffed, giving Andy a nod of her own. “Well then. Come along,” she said, ushering the twin girls in front of her.

“Goodbye, Andrea!” Cassidy called, waving.

“Goodbye!” Caroline followed, a bit softer than her sister.

Andy waved to them and gave a little sigh, regretful that her companions were being led away. Looking around, she noticed a vacant bench and made towards it, deciding to recount the interesting events of the day so far in her notebook.

Miranda, Andy thought. Interesting. In a few short moments, Andy’s pen danced across the pages of her notebook, ink forming words and thoughts taking shape physically.

--

The Verandah Café reminded Andy of the gazebo she had back home and brought a sense of nostalgia over her mood for the rest of the day. But the tea was lovely, and they had a good variety of scrumptious cakes and pastries. The view of the ocean helped too.

“Will we have a gazebo in our home?” she asked Sam casually, looking at him over the cup of tea she was sipping from.

“I’m afraid not, darling. Our home would be an apartment.” Andy tried hard to hide her disappointment but he sensed her discontent. “But it’s wide and spacious; you’ll have all the room you need. It’s in Manhattan, close to where our friends live, darling.” Sam patted her hand in a comforting gesture and slipped his fingers between hers.

Andy forced a smile but allowed herself to feel comfort at the intimate gesture. A handsome man with chiseled features and a cleft in his chin, Sam had never been anything but caring. Andy supposed she could have done worse.

“We have room for many bookcases,” he added, and Andy couldn’t help but think that he was like a little boy, wanting approval from his mother at something he had achieved.

“That sounds wonderful, Sam.”

The sea breeze caught in the loose curls framing Andy’s face and she closed her eyes, smiling.

“Beautiful,” Sam breathed, and Andy’s eyes snapped open to see him gazing at her with complete adoration. “I love you.”

“Yes. Tell me about Marie Carlana,” Andy said.

“What?” Sam frowned.

“What are the plans?” Andy asked, eager to know about their roles in the scheme.

“Oh, well yes. Bear in mind that times are changing, fashion is becoming good business. An industry. It’s not about mere dressmakers anymore; instead, we’re talking about a fashion empire. Branches not only in the major cities in the United States but also in Europe! It will be a good investment, with enough advertisements carried out.” Sam tapped a finger on the table for emphasis. “As for now, Marie Carlana is relatively unknown, the couturier inexperienced at business. However, her clientele is exclusive, and the simplicity of her couture is magnificent, judging from the fashion plates we’ve received from her in advance. What we’re doing is expanding the clientele. We have the resources, the finance -”

“- and they have the goods,” Andy finished, beginning to see the picture.

“Yes,” Sam said, looking pleased. “The more we invest, production increases, sales increase and the revenues returned will be rewarding.”

“That simple?” Andy breathed, forgetting for a moment that she really didn’t care for being fashionable.

“That simple, my dear,” Sam said, with a twinkle in his eye. “After that however, we’re going into mass production. Ready-made. Or ready-to-wear. However you put it.”

Andy sputtered. “Mass production. Like the – like canned tomatoes?”

Sam chuckled, eyes filling with mirth. “In that sense, yes, I suppose.”

“But then, how will we get the sizes right? I mean, everyone has different measurements, don’t they? If we don’t get custom measurements, the dresses aren’t going to fit right.” Andy herself had to be fitted several times before her dresses would hang correctly on her frame.

“We’ll have a system for it but let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, all right?” Sam looked almost pleading.

“All right.”

--

“We’re living in an apartment, Ellen! An apartment!” Andy huffed, hands on the bedposts as Ellen tugged on the laces of her corset. “We won’t have fields, like we do back home!”

“ ‘m sure it’s goin’ to be –” A pause and a final tug. “- just fine, Miss Andy.”

“Ellen, oh you don’t understand! It’s going to be so different from – it’s just going to be different. And it’s Manhattan,” Andy wailed, as Ellen went to fetch her evening dress. “I don’t want to live in an apartment!”

“’ere, put ‘his on,” Ellen said, laying the dress down on the bed. “’m sure the mister would consider gettin’ some’ere else, if you asked.”

Andy lifted the gown and sighed. “Sam’s so good to me and I’d feel awful. I already feel awful. And I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

The gown turned out to be more comfortable than Andy had anticipated and she was glad for the temporary relief. The silk felt smooth against her skin and the square neckline had a lower cut than Andy had remembered and it showed the soft swells of her breasts. Chiffon draped lightly around the neckline and over her upper arms forming sleeves. It was a delicate dress; and Andy felt like an ogre in a gown.

“Beautiful, Miss Andy,” Ellen sighed, as Andy peered at herself critically in the mirror.

“Is it – is it too much?”

Ellen shook her head, and gestured for Andy to sit before sliding a fine gem-studded headband over Andy’s dark hair, then a barrette encrusted with sapphires to hold her hair in place. Andy shifted uncomfortably which garnered a look from Ellen.

“Stop fidgeting, Miss Andy,” Ellen said, trying to pin the other side of Andy’s hair with another barrette.

“Sorry. You know I don’t like these things.”

“’course I know, Miss Andy.”

Andy sighed, resigning herself to her fate.

--

Descending the Grand Staircase, Sam was a complete gentleman, keeping Andy’s arm looped through his own. Andy was grateful for this for she was being more careful than usual, not wanting to humiliated herself – or Sam - by tripping on the short train of her own gown and tumbling down the staircase.

Proper introductions made, to the proper people; Andy found herself nodding and making agreeable sounds when appropriate as Sam conversed with several people Andy recognized to be rich and powerful. She had never felt more out of place, than to have herself surrounded by the elite.

Back home, Andy’s father had never forced her to any of these events; neither had her mother. But now, Andy was almost certain that it wouldn’t be good form to shy away from the Manhattan dinner parties which would surely be held. It wouldn’t look right, for Sam to attend those parties alone, would it?

Andy’s head swam with thoughts she had never even considered before. Letting her eyes roam, she gazed at the women in the room – all fashionable – and wondered if any of them felt the way she did. With a slight sinking of the heart, Andy realized that probably all of them here at the moment knew what they were doing, knew how to carry polite conversation; knew how to make their husbands look good. It was disheartening to realize that she was lacking in that department.

No, Andy didn’t want her entire life to revolve around Sam. But she liked to be capable. She liked to be good at things. The ambition to be good at things wasn’t something Andy was lacking.

Andy was so immersed in her thoughts that she didn’t realize that they were in new company until Sam introduced Sir Duff-Gordon and his wife to her.

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to have made your acquaintance,” Andy said, grasping for words and trying idiotically not to stammer. Her hands were starting to sweat in her satin gloves.

“What a lovely gown, my dear Andrea,” Lady Duff-Gordon said and Andy’s cheeks turned pink as she smiled. “The colour looks magnificent.”

“Thank you. You look very lovely, too, uh -” Andy said, feeling stupid but Lady Duff-Gordon smiled, amused.

“Call me Lucy, please,” she said and Andy sagged with relief, glad that she hadn’t stepped on anyone’s toes.

But Lady Duff-Gordon wasn’t looking at her anymore. Instead, her eyes trailed up the Grand Staircase and she made a waving gesture at someone, smiling in welcome. Andy looked up the staircase as well and –

Oh boy.

The woman Andy was looking directly at commanded the attention of all those surrounding her, Andy’s included. She wasn’t like anyone Andy had ever seen in the span of her twenty-five years of life.

Her hair was snowy white from where Andy could see but she wasn’t old, by all means. Did anyone who wasn’t old have white hair? And look so ethereal with it? Andy’s jaw hung open as she stared at the woman gliding down the Grand Staircase. Andy had the distinct feeling that she was looking at royalty – nobody could look that regal if they weren’t, could they?

The woman’s gown shimmered in the light, creamy and smooth fabric draped across her body luxuriously, like a curtain hiding a beautiful scene. The gown cascaded down to the floor where the tucks at one side of the skirt created an asymmetrical flow, a stone in the waterfall. Black velvet wrapped around her bosom and waist, ending in an elegant bow to one side of her bosom, the tails of the bow long enough to caress the floor. But it wasn’t the gown which made the wearer beautiful, it was the other way around.

Andy’s eyes trailed along her neck, to the swells of her breasts –

“Darling, I’m pleased that you like it enough to wear it tonight,” said a voice, and Andy blinked out of her daze, only to realize that the woman was standing right in front of her, her black-gloved hand being kissed by Sir Duff-Gordon.

“Yes, of course. Nobody makes them as beautiful as you do, Lucy,” the woman said graciously to Lady Duff-Gordon.

Oh. So it was Lady Duff-Gordon who spoke first. Andy clamped her hanging jaw shut.

“My friends,” Lady Duff-Gordon said, smiling beatifically. “Meet a close and very dear friend of mine, Miranda Priestly.”

Andy swallowed, breath catching.

Miranda.


To be continued…