The Girl in the Red Dress
By CoolMoonGoddess3
Viewpoint of a girl
December, 1890
I was strangely excited when I recieved the package. Just in time for Christmas, it contained a beautiful scarlet dress with pink lace trim. My father, whom I had not seen for many months, promised to send me a dress when he returned from a shipping trip in France. Now, in England, four months later, I recieved the dress I was waiting for.
Just then, my father walked in the room. We stared at each other for but a moment, then I raced into his arms. He had gotten a little grayer, a little browner, but the sparkle in his eyes were the same as when he left. Upon pulling away from our embrace, I noticed his eyes reguarded me with some sadness. He quietly asked me to try on the dress, then left the room for my privacy. I walked out with it on, pleased that it fit so well.
My father led me down to the parlor, where a strange man was waiting. He was tall, with skin as pale as mine and strong looking hands. His eyes and hair were dark black in color, and I noticed that he seemed to look me over before nodding his head ever so slightly. Judging my the rich, expensive looking suit he wore I could tell that this was not a man to be triffled with.
"Maria," said the man, taking my hand and kissing it like a true gentleman, "it is wonderful to meet you, after all that you father has told me." My father then left the room, closing the door. I could swear I heard a sob come from him. The gentleman turned back to me.
"I am Count DeFourette," he said, his eyes piercing into my soul. "Upon your father's voyage, he saved my life. I shall not go into details, for the likes of it should poison a beautiful mind like yours, but in return I promised to do anything in my power to grant anything in his wishes. He was an old man, he told me, and all he wanted was a safe an secure home for his only daughter, Maria. I promised him that I would do my part to give you that kind of home." Taking my hand, he slid a ring onto my finger. Everything suddenly made sense about tonight. The dress, the sadness in my father's tone, and even the mysterious Count; all were made ready so that I, at the younge age of sixteen, could marry a complete stranger!
"Marry me, Maria..." his voice trailed of as he pulled me closer to him. This was the man my father wanted me to marry. I could not dissobey his wishes.
"I accept," I whispered, my voice not coming out as strong as I would have liked. Then he kissed my cheek, oh so gently, and walked out of the parlor. I showed him to the main door.
"You know," he said with one foot out of the front door, "that dress looks absolutly stunning on you. Red truly is your color, my dear."
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