“My needle hand’s ready to go!” Paula said.
Micah’s mouth hung open. “I, uh, still can’t sew, but I’ll help with little stuff!”
“Me too!” Luciana said. “I’ll help with little stuff too!”
“Oh? Someone’s got the spirit,” said Paula. “Are you sure? We’ll work you hard, maid or lady.”
“That’s what I’m counting on! I need to see your genius up close!”
“My lady,” Melody cut in. “Personally, I would rather you study and make ready for the next semest—”
“Whatever needs doing, I’m your woman!”
Melody simply stared.
Paula laughed. “Understood. As for how we’ll divide the work, Micah, Lady Luciana, and myself will do Melody’s dress. Melody, you and Serena can handle Lady Luciana’s.”
“Will you manage? You’ll be the only one sewing on your end,” Melody said.
“It’s either you or me. I don’t mind. Plus, making someone else’s dress is way more fun than making your own.” Paula winked at Melody and Luciana.
“Exactly!” Luciana said. “I’d much rather have a hand in Melody’s!”
“And I in my lady’s,” Melody agreed. “Thank you, Paula. Serena, we have a job to do and only the two of us to see it done, but we can’t afford any mistakes. Only the best for our lady.”
“Only the best.” Serena beamed.
They began working in tandem, Luciana and Micah hauling out tools and materials, folding fabric, and managing the excess as Paula sheared. True to her word, she kept them surprisingly busy.
There’s more to dressmaking than cutting fabric and sewing it together, Melody thought. But Paula knows that. She’s a maid of all work. I ought to focus on our own task.
“Serena,” she said, “let’s start by getting everything ready to sew. It’ll be more efficient if we both work at the same time.”
“Yes, Gentlesister.”
The maids went about all that needed going about when fashioning a dress, from cutting to stitching to embroidery to piecing together all the essential bobbles and embellishments. It wasn’t easy work, and while they engaged in light conversation in the early stages, their focus deepened as the tasks grew in complexity. The snip of scissors and rustling of fabric replaced all other forms of chatter. It was silent, but not awkward by any means.
When they had exhausted their usefulness, Luciana and Micah busied themselves watching Paula work, mimicking the movements of her hands as if they might learn to repeat them. Melody caught them at it a few times, a brief diversion before returning to her repetitive task.
During one such reprieve, she noticed something: a gentle, comforting tone wafting through the room, a voice humming a song. It was Serena. Did she even know she was doing it? Likely not. Her needle and thread bobbed in and out of the fabric in rhythm, and soon everyone was listening. Rather than distracting anyone, the song became the gentle fire that fueled the machine.
This is the lullaby my mother used to sing to me every night, Melody recalled. Serena not only looked the part of her mother, but she sounded like her too. Transient though her life was, the love inside her, fueled by Melody’s magic, was eternal, speaking to the quiet yearning of a still-grieving child who had lost too much. This, perhaps, was the source of the doll’s resemblance to her twin, Selena. Serena can never really take her place, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate these moments that remind me of her.
“Finished here,” Serena said.
“Thank you, Mom.”
“Mom?” the entire room echoed.
Melody instantly blazed red. Her face went so hot it could have melted ice. “I-I didn’t mean…! It was an accident! A slip of the tongue!”
“It’s okay, Miss Melody,” Micah said. “It happens to the best of us. We understand.”
Her magnanimous smile soothed Melody’s heart like salt might soothe a wound.
“No, you don’t!” Melody cried.
There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say, that would deflect the tender gazes of her coworkers. The damage was done. But it also made for a great place to stop and take a break, which was exactly what they did. Thankfully, this coincided with a change of topic.
“Your voice is so pretty,” Luciana told Serena. “Micah and I didn’t have much to do past a certain point, and it was so nice to just sit and listen.”
“You’ve got such a good voice, Miss Serena!” Micah said.
“Oh, you’re flattering me.” Serena giggled shyly. “I was just so happy, I couldn’t help myself.”
“Happy?” Luciana cocked her head. “About what?”
Serena’s gaze turned distant. “I was created to be where Gentlesister cannot be, do what she cannot do. It’s a rare thing for us to work together, to collaborate like this. It made me happy, and I felt a song come to me, so, well, I sang.”
Luciana and Micah sighed, their hearts touched in the proper, sentimental way. Perhaps they had taken for granted Melody’s constant presence. Serena enjoyed no such luxury. While Melody went off to Royal Academy, Serena remained to tend to the estate. While her creator visited with her lady’s family in the north, the doll stayed behind.
Melody created Serena to go where she could not, do what she could not. Had anyone given her the gratitude she deserved?
“Serena,” Luciana said quietly.
“Miss Serena, I—”
“I’m sho sowwy!” Out of nowhere, Melody hurled herself forward.
“G-Gentlesister?!”
A blubbering mess of a maid restrained Serena.
“I’m so, so sorry! I had no idea I was making you that lonely! Work is work, but I never should have taken you for granted! I’m sorry, Serena!”
Paula, Micah, and Luciana watched whatever was happening in shocked, not-so-reverential silence.
“You needn’t berate yourself, Gentlesister.”
“But Serena…”
The tears clinging to Melody’s eyes and the sniffles in her nose tickled something inside Serena, something precious and important. She was loved. And so she felt love in turn for this sad girl, this creator of hers—her flesh and blood.
Serena drew her close and gently cradled her head, stroking her hair as one might a child’s. In a voice so quiet only Melody could hear, she whispered, “Don’t cry. I’m here. I’m here, and I love you, Celesty.”
Melody wailed. “Mom!”
Again?! the others thought in perfect unison.
Serena had always known that Melody’s true name was Celesty. It was not such a strange thing that she should call her by it. Entirely within the realm of possibility. And not at all strange.
Work did not resume for some time after that.