Eliza took a moment to admire the way her lawn chemise flowed around her body before donning her banyan. She then sat down in front of her dressing table, with its silvered mirror, tilting her head to judge how much attention her hair would need.
“Flora,” Eliza called to her maid. “Come make me presentable.”
A young woman holding long hairpins appeared in the mirror’s reflection.
“How much primping does my hair need?”
With her small hands, Flora smoothed Eliza’s mostly dark hair up and away from her employer’s face until it blended around the hair bun at the back of her head.
“It’s kept very well,” the maid mumbled through pins in her mouth. “But the curls are a mess. I have to pull them down and roll them up again.”
“Eliza, how are you getting on?” a masculine voice said from outside the door.
Eliza held her head still and smiled.
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