Anne slept lightly all night. Her head ached with thoughts about “Sir” de Lurrey. She thought all night and when she awoke in the morning, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Her head burned with pain. She was exhausted. She felt her throbbing head. She was burning up. She felt warm and was afraid. Anne lived in fear of fevers ever since she was young. She feared a fever would take her life just as it did her parents. Anne lay back down. Later Priscilla awoke. She saw Anne lying in her bed. She saw Anne’s puffy red eyes. She crept out of the room.
Soon she came back with a steaming cup of orange and honey flavored tea. The tea burned Priscilla’s hands, but it was worth it. Anne was the only friend she had ever had. After the grandfather clock piped seven o’clock, Anne awoke. She looked even worse than she had a few hours before. She felt sick, sure she might vomit. As soon as Priscilla saw Anne, she raced towards her carrying the steaming tea, spilling it all over the hard-wooden floor, and burning her dainty hands. Priscilla set the tea on the nightstand, rubbed her hands on her dress, then spoke, “Oh Anne! ,) (no punc. No capital start) The tea is piping hot! Don’t drink it until it is fully cooled. ” Anne waited a few more seconds and then grabbed the tea in the hand she had cut badly when she fell with Claira through the roof. Priscilla screeched, “Anne Justair! What is this from? How long have you had it? ” Anne’s head raced. If she told Priscilla the truth, she might tell someone else or be upset. But if she told hera made-up story, she figured she would never know the difference. “Last night…
I got up to get a small drink and I fell out of bed and scratched my hand on the bed trim,” Anne lied. Priscilla started again “Anne, I am going to the head of this hotel right now! Stay in your bed I will fetch you ice. ” Priscilla dressed quickly in a creamy yellow frock with a white lacey collar. She knotted her coffee coils in a loose bun, buttoned her boots and stormed out of the room. Anne’s conscience told her she had done the wrong thing, but her head would not accept that. She was sick now, and she would now have to miss a practice. She hated to think of everyone practicing without her.
She knew she had made the wrong decision last night, but as Gus would have said, “Keep the show running. ” A few minutes afterward, Priscilla stormed back into the room carrying a bag filled with ice. She opened the shutters to reveal the robin’s egg blue sky, and the sunshine that made tiny rainbows on the walls. Then she spoke in a poised un-Priscillalike tone, “Anne, I told a messenger to send word to Mr. Alexander-Buebertt that you are ill,” Priscilla took a deep breath. “You will lie in bed all day. The chef will bring you soup and cheese at noon.
I’m forcing you to stay here. ” Priscilla grabbed her lacey parasail and walked out of the room. Anne knew Priscilla was right, but she couldn’t stand the thought of wasting a whole day in bed. She was starting to feel a little bit better and she really wanted to go out and see more of London. She flung the covers of the bed, grabbed one of Priscilla’s dresses, and dressed herself behind the pink, Chinese lotus printed screen. The dress she had pick out was a red cotton piece with red ruffles on the cuffs and gold and white buttons dotted down the front.
She left her locks down and buckled her shoes. She feared that she was once again doing the wrong thing, but she could hear Grandfather saying, “There is nothing quite like the cool breeze that can heal you up. ” Anne also knew she needed to be back by noon so that the messenger wouldn’t tell Priscilla she was gone. Anne strolled out of the hotel carrying a plain crocheted bag she had made. The bag held a few pounds and a few silver coins. She walked down the stairs and into the jade and cream lobby and out onto the eventful streets of London, catching every little detail as she walked.
Anne started to pass by a fabric shop, but then she decided she just had to stop and see the flamboyant, lively colors and the newest of fashion prints, so she strolled inside. She tried to look all around her, but only one fabric really caught her eye. It was an emerald green satin with tiny fecks of purple on it. Green had always been her favorite color, and this green matched the shade of her eyes perfectly. She did decided to examine the crisp white lace that came from factories. It looked cleaner, whiter, and more intricate then the off white, thick lace Mrs.
Guard had made for Anne’s special gloves, only to be used for distinct times. She went to talk with the cashier about the prices, but before she reached the counter, she collided with a lady adorned in a frilly pink dress, and toppled over a basket of appliques. Anne bent down to retrieve the appliques, grabbing them one-by-one then stating, “Sorry, ma’am. I’m a tad clumsy, well more of a klutz if you say… ” Anne looked up and she saw Mariette Cecil, the lead of Cleopatra in the opera! “Oh! Sorry about that… Well I’m um clumsy and… ” Mariette did not look amused.
Anne did not know whether she was irritated at being crashed into or disappointed in Anne for missing practice. “Vhich fabric voud, zu like? ” Mariette said, still unamused. “Oh,” Anne started, confused. “Well I love this one,” Anne said pointing at the green satin, “But it’s a bit too expensive for my taste, and besides I would have to wait until I got home to sew it. I cannot sew, but Mrs. Guard can, she is our… ” Mariette cut off Anne, “Vhat do vu need zis dreese for? ” Anne started again, ‘Well, after opening night, the celebration… ” Mariette cut Anne off again, “I vill pay for dis for zu. Anne couldn’t believe what she was hearing and felt happier than ever. “And I vill send vord to my dreesmakor, to make vu a drees. ” Anne agreed and Mariette paid for the satin, lace, a fancy plumy fabric, and two lilac-colored flower appliques. After that, they walked out of the dress-maker’s shop, signaled for a carriage, then hopped inside. Mariette started to speak in her big, French accent, “Zo first, your friend, Priscilla, told ze directors zat you vher ill. ”
Anne tried to interject, but she kept going. “Are vu ill, or are vu not ill, for mizzing a practice is disrespectful. Anne interjected with rage, “I am sick, my head pounds so badly, and my eyes are ruby red! Also, why are you here? It looked like you were looking at fabrics too, instead of practicing! ” Mariette looked offended, and then she spoke, “Practice ended early. ” Anne felt a panicked rush inside. If practice was finished, that meant Priscilla might already be back at the hotel. Then she thought, “Maybe there was a change. Maybe Priscilla had decided to use her free time to take a stroll around London. ” Dong! Dong! Dong! The clock struck noon just as the carriage pulled up to the hotel.
Now Anne knew she was in trouble. The food deliveryman would be there, send word to Priscilla, if she wasn’t there already, then Anne would be in trouble for sure. She walked into the hotel. She peered around the jade lobby. Priscilla wasn’t there. She raced up the hard, dark wooden stairs. She turned the corner, and opened the white door to her suite. She walked inside. She looked all around the room, even in the closet, but Priscilla was not there. So Anne assumed she was just out and plopped herself down onto her feather bed, relieved that she had made it back in time.
A boy soon brought in her lunch. She at a bit and then grabbed her storybook, Tales of a Low Lad and quickly became lost in the pages. The book was filled to the brim with magic and chivalry, sword fights and dragons. Anne wished she could be the beautiful princess, Golmya, and be rescued by the Dragon King. Time passed by without Anne realizing- one hour, two hours, four hours, five whole hours. When she turned the last page in the book, Anne was content. She felt happy inside, for she had finished the book and the ending of the book was splendid. Then Anne realized Priscilla still had not returned.
Anne grabbed her cloak, tied it on her shoulders, then raced downstairs. She sprinted down the streets. Quickly the white, cottony clouds turned into draft gray rainclouds that covered the sky like a blanket. The pavement started to become spotted and the roads became wet. Anne kept sprinting. She pulled the hood of her cloak up and over her raven’s wing curls, and she ran. Her legs tingled and she puffed out air. She had to find Priscilla. Before she knew just what she was doing, she realized that she was running to Claira for help. She reached the manor to see Claira standing outside.