The Tomcat (2)

It was only morning on the day of the ball, and the chambers of the eldest Whitefield daughter were already a hive of quiet activity.

After Daisy had fastened the final hook on the bodice, she took a step back, wiping a faint sheen of sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist. She let out a huge, satisfied sigh.

"Phew... Finally, it's done!" she breathed, her voice full of accomplishment.

Before her, Elise stood before the full-length mirror, transformed. The gown was a masterpiece of midnight blue silk, its color so deep it was nearly black, like the sky moments after the sun has vanished. The rich fabric cascaded in heavy, luxurious folds over the structured cage crinoline and countless layers of tulle petticoats, creating a silhouette of profound grandeur. Over the bodice, intricate black lace traced delicate, swirling patterns like frost creeping on a dark windowpane, subtle yet breathtakingly detailed. A matching lace choker, high and elegant, adorned her neck, its design perfectly concealing the faint evidence of the bite wound beneath. Long gloves of sheer black silk sheathed her hands and arms, completing the ensemble with an air of severe, untouchable refinement.

She had woken before dawn, a restless energy compelling her to rouse her poor maid from bed to be dressed. There was no cosmetics yet, for it was still hours before their departure.

But a part of her had to see. She had been waiting, with a patience she usually reserved for hunting, ever since the final stitch was placed on this gift from her father.

"My lady..." Daisy covered her mouth with both hands, her green eyes wide and shimmering. "You look... utterly divine!"

Elise did not reply. Instead, she wordlessly twisted and turned ever so slightly before the mirror, watching the heavy skirts sway with a satisfying swish. It had been years since she'd worn such a grand garment; she moved with deliberate care, mindful of the unfamiliar weight and volume of the cage crinoline.

Then, almost unconsciously, she lifted a gloved hand and gently touched the pale golden curls that just brushed the curve of her neck.

Daisy stiffened, her heart sinking. That gesture... her mistress only did that when she felt her hair was getting too long. When she was preparing to shear it all away again.

"Daisy..." Elise said quietly, her eyes still on her reflection.

"Yes, my lady...?" Daisy replied, her voice tight with nervous anticipation.

"...Do I have any pins small enough for hair this short?"

Daisy blinked. Then, her face exploded into a radiant, beaming smile.

"Yes! Oh, yes!" she chirped, her worry vanishing instantly. "I know just the thing!"

The young maid scurried to the vanity and rummaged through a small, cherished drawer. After a moment, she produced a delicate silver hairpin, its end crafted into the shape of a perfectly bloomed sapphire rose—the exact shade of the ones that grew in the manor gardens.

Elise's pale eyes flickered with a subtle, unreadable emotion as Daisy handed her the accessory. She had purchased this pin herself many years ago, a lifetime ago, when her hair was a long, flowing river of gold. She had cut it all off before she ever had a chance to wear it. And now...

"...Alright," she said, her voice soft but firm. "We will use this one."

Daisy smiled from ear to ear, her chest swelling with joy. Then, she stretched her arms dramatically and let out an enormous yawn. Without a second thought, she flopped backward onto her mistress's canopied bed with an exaggerated sigh of bliss, instantly rumpling the perfectly smoothed duvet she had made just minutes before.

"Finally, I'm done!" she declared, pressing her face into the feathery pillows. "Mmm... so soft~"

Elise turned and glanced down at her shamelessly recumbent maid, carefully setting the hairpin on the vanity.

"Other masters would have their servants whipped for behaving even a fraction as familiarly as you do."

Daisy turned her head to look up at Elise, a cheeky, freckled grin on her face. "Good thing my master is Elise Whitefield, then."

"Hm," Elise hummed, a sound barely audible. But Daisy caught the faint, almost imperceptible ghost of amusement in her mistress's eyes as she steadily approached the bed.

Suddenly, Elise picked up a plump pillow and tossed it with pinpoint accuracy onto Daisy's face.

Daisy let out a dramatic, muffled gasp. "How dare you! I am but a humble, overworked maid!" She grabbed another pillow and swatted weakly at Elise, her laughter bubbling forth.

Elise, stoic as ever, effortlessly deflected Daisy's pitiful attacks and launched another pillow of her own. The heavy, cumbersome gown was no match for the strength and agility of an experienced vampire hunter.

"My lady! The dress, mind the dress!" Daisy protested between giggles, shielding herself.

"I trust you will repair any damage," Elise stated blankly, smacking Daisy's defensive arms with another soft blow.

"Help me, help me, my mistress is abusing her loyal servant!" Daisy playfully cried out to the empty room, curling into a ball.

"This is called discipline," Elise calmly retorted, continuing her assault with rhythmic, gentle thumps. "For insubordination."

Their moment of peace was shattered when Annie swept into the room without knocking, a picture of innocent curiosity with a sweet smile perfectly pasted on her face. She halted mid-step, her breath catching almost imperceptibly as she saw her sister already standing in the full glory of her ballgown.

Her eyes traveled from the crown of Elise's head to the hem of her magnificent skirts, and a single, traitorous thought forced its way into her mind:

Oh... she's beautiful.

Even without a speck of cosmetics. Even with her hair still unpinned.

What is even the point of me trying?

The thought was a poison that instantly darkened her mood. Her eyes flickered with a brief, venomous resentment before she quickly masked it, her gaze shifting to Daisy, who was still sitting on the rumpled bed. She looked back and forth between the mistress and the maid, her smile tightening.

"I must say," Annie commented, her voice light and airy, "most servants would be dismissed for showing such... familiar insolence to the Count's favorite child."

Daisy stiffened, scrambling off the bed and straightening her apron in embarrassment. Elise merely raised a brow, her expression unchanging. It was unusual for her sister to seek her out.

Annie glided further into the room, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. "I wanted to talk to you, Elise. Just a little sisterly chat before the ball tonight."

Elise didn't respond, her silence a clear invitation to state her business.

Annie gave a small sigh, her shoulders slumping just so. "Elise, you and I both know that... I'm not like you. I mean, you're always so... striking. You command a room without even trying. Men and women alike, they just... they can't look away. And I..." she gestured vaguely at herself, "...well, I'm just so terribly plain."

Daisy, unable to help herself, rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in her head.

Annie continued, her tone dipping into a pitiful, wistful note. "It's just... this is my first real grand ball since my debut. It's terribly important to me. I know you may not relate—you're already twenty, after all, so past all this—but I'm still so young. This is all so new and exciting for me." She hesitated, casting her eyes down to the floor in a show of vulnerability. "And Father said he hopes the Duke will favor me... but what if he only has eyes for you?"

She peeked up at Elise through her long, fluttering lashes, her expression a blend of uncertainty, insecurity, and self-doubt.

"I wouldn't blame him, of course," she added hastily, tucking a loose strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. "You're so... comfortable around men, given your work. You know just how to talk to them. And... well, some gentlemen do have a certain... appreciation for older, more... experienced women."

Daisy's lips parted in silent outrage. "Little viper," she mouthed, soundlessly.

Elise shot her a single, sharp warning look that made the maid flinch and look away.

Oblivious to the exchange, Annie sighed again. "I know it's probably too much to ask, but I just want to make a good impression on him. And with you there, it's... well..." She trailed off, pressing her lips together as if pained by her own admission. "It's simply hard to be seen when you're standing next to the sun. So..."

She looked up, her hazel eyes wide and pleading. "Would you let me have this one chance, Elise? Just for tonight?"

Elise met her gaze evenly, her own face a mask of cool impassivity. "I understand," she replied, her voice quiet and utterly devoid of emotion.

Annie's face lit up with a radiant, triumphant smile. "Oh, thank you, Elise! You're the best sister!" She reached out and clasped Elise's gloved hands briefly before stepping back. "You should get some rest, dear sister. We have a long night ahead of us."

She turned gracefully and floated toward the door. Just as her hand touched the knob, she paused and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes doing another quick, appraising sweep of Elise's gown.

"By the way..." she began, "I don't think I've ever seen you show this much skin before, Elise."

Elise glanced down at her own dress, then back at her sister. "Indeed. My usual attire is more... practical."

Annie nodded slowly, then couldn't help herself but giggle. "You are so much broader and more... muscular than I imagined. More so than some of the hunters I see patrolling the streets!"

With that, she swept out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

The moment the door clicked shut, Daisy kicked furiously at the empty air where Annie had been. "Ugh! That little—! I can't stand her! Always putting on that 'I'm-not-like-other-girls' act. Who's the one who's always complaining that women are too much drama? That men are so much easier to talk to? And now she has the gall to call you experienced? Sugar-fanged little asp! What rotten novels has she been reading to get so venomous?"

The temperature in the room plummeted.

"Daisy."

Elise's voice cut through the air like a shard of ice, sharp and cold enough to make the maid physically jolt.

Daisy froze mid-rant, a visceral chill of dread running down her spine as she slowly turned to face her mistress.

Elise's pale blue eyes were locked on her, their usual coolness replaced by a harsh, unwavering frost. "You will control your tongue. You forget your station far too often." Each word was measured, deliberate, the full weight of her authority pressing down like an anvil. "Annabelle is a daughter of this house. You will not speak of her in that manner. Ever again."

Daisy's stomach plummeted. This wasn't a playful scolding. Elise was genuinely, deeply displeased.

She swallowed hard, her fiery anger instantly doused by cold fear. She lowered her head in a deep bow. "I-I'm sorry, my lady... It won't happen again."

Elise studied her for a long, heavy moment that stretched into eternity. Then, with a quiet, weary sigh, she ran her fingers through her short curls. "I will not punish you this time. But mark my words: there will not be a next time."

Daisy nodded frantically, her face burning with shame. "Yes, my lady..." she mumbled, her voice small and wounded.

Elise shifted her attention to the sapphire rose hairpin on the vanity, her gaze tracing its intricate silverwork. Then she looked back at her own reflection—at the regal woman in the magnificent midnight blue gown.

Then, after a silence that seemed to swallow the room, she sighed again, the sound full of resignation.

"Daisy, remove the crinoline and the petticoats. For my makeup, just a touch of rouge and lip tint. Nothing more."

"What?" Daisy's head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief. "My lady, you can't be serious! You're actually going to let her win? It's Duke Ravencourt! Why shouldn't you catch his attention? You're a Whitefield, too!"

"I am not interested in courting unnecessary drama. There is no need to make a spectacle over something so trivial."

Daisy huffed in utter frustration and flopped onto the edge of the bed, crossing her arms like a petulant child. "It's not fair. Why does she get to have everything?"

Elise arched a brow at the display. She walked over and tapped Daisy's forehead lightly with her gloved knuckle. "Why? Did you wish to marry the Duke yourself?"

"You mock me, Lady Elise!" Daisy protested, clutching her forehead. "I have no interest in marrying any man, ever. You're stuck with me for life."

"Enough. Help me change before we must prepare."

Daisy sighed as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders. "Fiiine..."

Begrudgingly, she stood and carefully put the precious hairpin back in its drawer. Then she returned to Elise and began the tedious process of unlacing the bodice and removing the heavy layers of skirt and petticoats, undoing all their careful work.

As Daisy worked, peeling away the grandeur to reveal Elise in her simple chemise and drawers, Elise studied her own reflection in the mirror.

"Daisy..."

Daisy glanced up from her task. "Yes, my lady?"

Elise hesitated, her eyes on her own arms and shoulders. "Am I... built too sturdily?"

Daisy blinked, confused. "I'm sorry?"

Elise shook her head, immediately regretting the words that escaped her. "Never mind."

Daisy was silent for a thoughtful moment. She finished her task and then moved to stand directly in front of her mistress, blocking the mirror. "My lady, you mustn't let a single word from Lady Annabelle get under your skin. I have never in my life seen a lady more—"

She cut herself off, her gaze intensifying as she truly looked at Elise. Not as a mistress, but as a woman.

Her expression shifted to one of focused admiration. Slowly, almost reverently, she reached out and began to stroke Elise's bare upper arm, her fingers tracing the subtle, defined lines of lean muscle beneath the skin. A faint pink blush rose on her freckled cheeks, and a smile that Elise could only describe as perverted crept across her face.

"...Well," she murmured, her voice almost dreamy. "Maybe being sturdy isn't such a bad thing after all."

Silence.

With a face of utter stone, Elise's hand shot up, pinched a generous handful of Daisy's cheek, and gave it a firm, twisting tug.

"Ow ow ow—Mercy! I yield! I yield!"

The thick, disciplinary tension that had filled the room vanished, dissipated by yelps and the familiar rhythm of their companionship. Outside, the sun continued its journey across the sky, indifferent to the small storms and calms that brewed within Whitefield Manor before the night's grand performance.