Page 15 of The Last Casterglass
Seph had shrugged, immediately defensive. “Just curious. He was nosing around in my workshop, and I wanted to make sure he stayed away.” She’d instantly regretted saying such a thing, feeling weirdly disloyal to Oliver, and was grateful he couldn’t hear her.
“I told him he could nose around the place, get a feel for things,” Althea replied with a shrug. “Don’t be so touchy, Seph. He’s working hard.”
Seph had had to bite her lip to keep from issuing a sharp retort, and then she marched off to her workshop, bristling with indignation. Now it was late afternoon, and everyone was getting ready for this winter thing they were holding in the grand entrance hall of the castle. Seph hadn’t had anything to do with the planning, but Althea had some idea of a trial run of some sort of party, with drinks and nibbles. They were inviting neighbours and friends, with the idea that if it was successful, they could hold them once a week through December, offering a candlelit tour of the castle to boot. Seph hadn’t even been planning to show up, but then Althea had put her foot down and said every Penryn had to be present.
Normally Seph would have ignored such a diktat, but this time she hadn’t, and she knew why. She wanted to see Oliver again. But not while wearing a dress.
“Could you at least try one on?” Olivia pleaded. “For my sake.”
“What’s the big deal? It’s just going to be a bunch of nosy old villagers there, anyway, snooping around the castle.” Most of the people her age had left Casterglass for the wider world, whether that was only as far as Kendal or all the way to London. They didn’t stick around here the way she had, at any rate.
“Still,” Olivia pressed. “I’d like you to do it for your sake, not the villagers’. Don’t you want to look pretty?”
“No.”
Her sister rolled her eyes. “Come on, Seph. Not even a little? I’m not talking ball gown and stilettos here. Just a simple, easy, nice dress.”
“How can a dress be easy?”
Olivia let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan. “Comeon. Let’s at least look at what I have. I think we’re about the same size.”
Seph hesitated; normally she would say an absolute no to something like this and that would be the end of it. Although, she acknowledged, normally no one would suggest such a thing, either because they knew not to or they simply didn’t care. But Olivia was caring enough to take an interest, and Oliver’s interest in her had given Seph the tiniest flicker of vanity, so she didn’t want to be clomping around in her dungarees and work boots while everyone was else was floating around in velvet or silk.
“All right,” she relented. “I’ll look. But no promises.”
“Of course not,” Olivia said on a laugh, and then she tugged on Seph’s hand to lead her to her bedroom down the hall.
Seph perched uneasily on the edge of Olivia’s bed while she riffled through her wardrobe, a cavernous thing of ancient mahogany that was big enough to hold a body or three. Outside the night was already drawing in, and fairy lights lined the winding drive, twinkling with welcome in the dusk. Althea really had thought of everything, Seph acknowledged, and she worked hard, as bossy as she could be.
“What about this?”
Olivia held out a red velvet number, far too slinky for Seph’s taste.
“No.”
“This?”
A little LBD that wouldn’t even cover her knees. “No.”
“Seph, these are reasonable suggestions!” Olivia protested. “Couldn’t you at least try them on?”
“No.”
She wasn’t actually trying to be difficult, even if Olivia thought she was. She simply had a horror of making an effort and then being laughed at, made to feel weird, the way she had in school. Better not to try. Not to care.
“This one?” Olivia asked hopefully, holding out a wrap dress in soft green wool, the colour of moss, with tiny, shimmering threads of blue and brown running through it. Seph hesitated, and Olivia jumped on that second’s pause. “Yes,” she said firmly. “This is the one. It’s perfect for you.”
Slowly, reluctantly yet with a tiny, treacherous bit of excitement, Seph rose from the bed. “I’ll look like some sort of woodland elf.”
“And that is totally a look,” Olivia replied swiftly. “Cottagecore meets Goth fantasy.”
“There is nothing Goth about this dress.”
“Pair it with some knee-high leather boots. You’ll look amazing.”
Seph shook her head doubtfully, but she took the dress. She’d try it on, and when she proved to Olivia that she did look ridiculous in a dress, as she’d always known, she’d take it off again. And go to the party in jeans and boots, as usual.
Why did that thought depress her, just a little?