about,â Carrie assured her. âAnd itâs too late to start searching the palace,â she pointed out logically. With the maid on the verge of tears again she had to be practical, but it wasnât easy when the loss of the dress was such a bitter blow.
âPlease, let me go and look for it, signorina, â the maid pleaded with her. âYou never know, I might find it.â
âAll right, but I donât want you to worry if you donât. This isnât your fault. While youâre gone, Iâll have another look through the wardrobe. Iâm sure Iâll find something else to wear.â
Carrie picked out several formal dresses and then discarded them again for various reasons. Some of the necklines plunged to the waist, which with her voluptuous figure was hardly prudent, and others had slits almost to the crotch. All the shoes seemed to have spindly heels, and she dreaded wearing them, but time was marching on and there was still no sign of the maid returning.
Carrie glanced out of the window and her throat dried as she caught sight of the stream of limousines rolling in procession along the road towards the palace. Their passengers would be ambassadors and billionaires, and enough European royalty to fill the pages of a celebrity magazine. Princess Laura had wanted to prepare her for this, and had wanted her to feel comfortable in such elevated company, and now everything had gone wrong. She glanced at the door, she couldnât wait for the maid any longer. She wouldnât risk being late for Princess Laura. She would just have to choose something else to wearâ¦.
But now Carrie made another worrying discoveryâeverything in the wardrobe was at least one size too small. It didnât make sense. Princess Lauraâs dressmakers had been so thorough and precise with their measurements and she found it hard to believe they would have made such an elementary mistake. She began to suspect someone had done this on purpose to humiliate her.
Returning to the wardrobe, she selected a beaded sheath with an impressive fishtail train, for no better reason than it fell off the hanger at her feet and she took it for a sign. Now she just had to hope the Fates were on her side.
Having shoehorned her way into the dress, Carrie found she couldnât fasten all the tiny silk-covered buttons that ran up the back. Glancing at the clock, she grew increasingly anxious. For her to walk into the banqueting hall after the king had sat down was an unimaginable breach of etiquette, and she had no intention of embarrassing Princess Laura.
So where was the maid? Had she been hijacked along the way? Carrie was beginning to think that the loss of the gown was no mistake, and that perhaps the maid had been sent on some new, time-consuming errand by the same person who had removed the gown. Because the dress had been taken, Carrie thought grimly as she battled with the buttons.
The only way she could secure the dress she had chosen was by tugging it round, fastening the buttons, and then heaving it back again. Unfortunately by this time her cheeks were beetroot red, and her carefully dressed hair was hanging in tangles. Gazing at herself in the mirror, she felt like crying. The jewelled bodice barely covered her big bouncing breasts that threatened to erupt out of the confines of her gown at any moment. She looked a mess, and now it was too late to choose something else to wear. The fabulous couture gown didnât hang on her as it was supposed to. It clung in a most unflattering way, revealing every cream cake she had ever consumed in her life. And she still had to choose some shoesâ¦.
How could she choose when she couldnât bend over? Hopping around, she managed to hook some stratospheric stilettos with her big toe. âLengthen your lineââwasnât that the advice for small, plump people in womenâs magazines? She had certainly done that, and had become a five foot
âPlease, let me go and look for it, signorina, â the maid pleaded with her. âYou never know, I might find it.â
âAll right, but I donât want you to worry if you donât. This isnât your fault. While youâre gone, Iâll have another look through the wardrobe. Iâm sure Iâll find something else to wear.â
Carrie picked out several formal dresses and then discarded them again for various reasons. Some of the necklines plunged to the waist, which with her voluptuous figure was hardly prudent, and others had slits almost to the crotch. All the shoes seemed to have spindly heels, and she dreaded wearing them, but time was marching on and there was still no sign of the maid returning.
Carrie glanced out of the window and her throat dried as she caught sight of the stream of limousines rolling in procession along the road towards the palace. Their passengers would be ambassadors and billionaires, and enough European royalty to fill the pages of a celebrity magazine. Princess Laura had wanted to prepare her for this, and had wanted her to feel comfortable in such elevated company, and now everything had gone wrong. She glanced at the door, she couldnât wait for the maid any longer. She wouldnât risk being late for Princess Laura. She would just have to choose something else to wearâ¦.
But now Carrie made another worrying discoveryâeverything in the wardrobe was at least one size too small. It didnât make sense. Princess Lauraâs dressmakers had been so thorough and precise with their measurements and she found it hard to believe they would have made such an elementary mistake. She began to suspect someone had done this on purpose to humiliate her.
Returning to the wardrobe, she selected a beaded sheath with an impressive fishtail train, for no better reason than it fell off the hanger at her feet and she took it for a sign. Now she just had to hope the Fates were on her side.
Having shoehorned her way into the dress, Carrie found she couldnât fasten all the tiny silk-covered buttons that ran up the back. Glancing at the clock, she grew increasingly anxious. For her to walk into the banqueting hall after the king had sat down was an unimaginable breach of etiquette, and she had no intention of embarrassing Princess Laura.
So where was the maid? Had she been hijacked along the way? Carrie was beginning to think that the loss of the gown was no mistake, and that perhaps the maid had been sent on some new, time-consuming errand by the same person who had removed the gown. Because the dress had been taken, Carrie thought grimly as she battled with the buttons.
The only way she could secure the dress she had chosen was by tugging it round, fastening the buttons, and then heaving it back again. Unfortunately by this time her cheeks were beetroot red, and her carefully dressed hair was hanging in tangles. Gazing at herself in the mirror, she felt like crying. The jewelled bodice barely covered her big bouncing breasts that threatened to erupt out of the confines of her gown at any moment. She looked a mess, and now it was too late to choose something else to wear. The fabulous couture gown didnât hang on her as it was supposed to. It clung in a most unflattering way, revealing every cream cake she had ever consumed in her life. And she still had to choose some shoesâ¦.
How could she choose when she couldnât bend over? Hopping around, she managed to hook some stratospheric stilettos with her big toe. âLengthen your lineââwasnât that the advice for small, plump people in womenâs magazines? She had certainly done that, and had become a five foot
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