Sascha Pt. 04

CHAPTER 2

"You didn't!" Sascha gasped as the family laughed at Robert's discomfort.

"I was worried about you and I panicked. I'm sorry."

"We will discuss this in private." Sascha stated firmly, ending the discussion.

"Ooooh," chanted all the siblings.

"Robert's in trouble, Robert's in trouble!" chanted 16-year-old Alexander.

"You'd better get Sascha some flowers," laughed 14-year-old Geoffrey. "And chocolates." He added after a little thought.

"Diamonds work wonders," Caroline added fuel to the fire.

"That's enough everyone!" The king commanded. He looked around the table with a wry smile, "I'm sure, even as we speak, that Robert is regretting his liberal sharing. Aren't you Robert?"

"Yes Sir, I am." He said fervently. "But Sascha, please believe me, I wasn't sharing your information; I was sharing my happiness."

"Oh! He's good." Snarked Isabella.

"Ladies! Gentlemen!" The king looked around the table with a brief smile, "Children! Enough teasing.

"So, family Devereaux, it seems we have a royal wedding to plan. Robert, Sascha, you both will be in the USA so your contributions will be via text, email, and telephone. They want to marry on December 24th, this year."

"Nice!" Commented Isabella.

"Very." Continued the king. "Charles, would you please contact the cathedral and begin coordinating the ceremony? Also, Charles and Katherine, you'll be responsible for the after-wedding celebration."

"Yes Father."

"Mother?" The king addressed Queen Sophia, "Katherine, Isabella, Caroline, I'd like you all to begin helping Sascha put together a wardrobe appropriate for the Princess of Douravia." He looked around and saw the questioning expressions, "Relax girls, Sascha admits she does not yet have a great knack for fashion. She will welcome your help and suggestions."

"Thank you, sir." Sascha acknowledged.

"Gustav, Alexander. I want you to sit down with Mr. Johnston and also get in contact with Mrs. Watkins. We'll need a 'must-invite for political reasons' guest list."

"Yes father."

"Sascha, Robert, of course we'll need preliminary friends and family guest lists from both of you. The sooner the better. Especially you Sascha, there'll be travel arrangements to make for your guests."

"Let's make sure Robert gets an invitation--I want him there!" Sascha joked, earning a laugh from the table.

"Sascha?" Asked Katherine, "Have you given any thought to a wedding dress?"

Sascha shook her head, "I'll need lots of help there."

Katherine grinned, "Mother? Don't you think this would warrant a...ahem...small shopping trip...perhaps Paris?" Sascha noticed Isabella and Caroline nodding enthusiastically.

"What a lovely idea. Robert? Today is Monday, when are you scheduled to return to Boston?"

"We leave London Saturday morning. We must leave here Friday at the latest."

"I see. Do you think you could arrange to skip London? That would give us a few days in Paris to shop...for Sascha's wedding gown."

"Certainly Mother. I'll change our reservations this evening."

"Wonderful. Katherine notify the airport. Tell them to prepare the plane for Paris in the morning. Bella, call Jacques at the St. Francis, make sure the apartment is ready. Caroline make the usual fashion house appointments. And remember girls this trip is to get Sascha introduced and started on choosing her wedding dress and a basic wardrobe."

"Mother!!" The royal daughters whined in chorus.

"Hush! You'll have your chance to shop."

The next afternoon, after the two-hour flight from Douravia to Paris, and exciting visits to two of Paris' most fashionable boutiques and seeing several beautiful gowns, a taxi dropped the five women in front of the 'House of *******'. All the Devereaux woman assured Sascha it was the very best.

"I need to pay the driver, go ahead in Sascha, we'll be right behind you." Queen Sophia prompted.

Sascha walked in and glanced around at several striking gowns displayed on mannequins. The sales staff ignored her. She heard a muttered 'Obviously American'. The queen and her daughters came in just a few seconds later. A saleswoman hustled across the shiny wood floor, "Ah, Your Majesty. Welcome." She greeted Queen Sophia. She made a dismissive wave towards Sascha, "Don't worry about the stupid American, she can wait." She added in french.

Sascha rounded on the woman, eyes blazing, her face flushed red, "Va t'en." She snapped angrily, "Trouvez quelqu'un avec qui parler." (Go away. Find someone for me to speak with.) She stared at the suddenly sober salespeople at the rear of the showroom, "Je ne parlerai pas avec cretins insolents." (I will not speak with insolent cretins.)

The queen looked at the stunned woman, and shook her head sadly, "Well done, Monique, you've managed to insult my future daughter-in-law--not to mention that she will be the next queen of Douravia. Might I suggest some very sincere apologies if you hope to retain our patronage?" The Douravian group turned sharply and moved toward the door. An older man, dressed in a beautifully tailored soft grey suit, raced from the back of the store.

"Your Majesty, ladies, I beg you...please accept my apologies. Monique...be gone...go clean the toilets. Make yourself useful for once." Monique hung her head and slunk toward the back of the salesroom. He made a deep bow to Sascha, "Please, Mademoiselle, I beg your pardon."

"Marcel," Queen Sophia gave Sascha a glance, "Sascha is, in fact, American. But, as Monique and the rest of you just found out, she speaks fluent, idiomatic french. I've heard, also, that she is very sensitive when people assume she can't and talk behind her back. Now, I'm sure my daughter, when she called for the appointment, mentioned we were looking for Sascha's wedding dress. What do you have for us?"

Sascha understood immediately that the negotiations had begun, "Your Majesty, Please. This place is not for me. They don't like Americans. How do I know they won't do something to the dress to embarrass me? Please, can we just go back to ********? I loved that 2nd gown."

"Yes, Mama'," added Katherine, "If Sascha isn't welcome here, we should just leave."

"Please, Your Majesty...Ladies...we have a truly magnificent wedding collection this year. Please don't let the carelessness of a minor employee drive you away. May I get you anything? Wine? Tea? Mineral water?

Queen Sophia, despite Sascha's whining, allowed Marcel to lead the group into the display salon. Sascha sat stone-faced as the parade of dresses began. Having picked up on the queen's hint of compensatory discounts, she knew she had a role to play in the negotiations. She looked carefully at each one. Some she dismissed with a sneer and abrupt flick of her hand. A couple of the nicer dresses she just shrugged non-committaly, outwardly unimpressed--inwardly salivating for a chance to try them on.

After an hour Sascha was beginning to lose hope. While beautiful, so far, all the dresses had been much too revealing for her taste: bare arms, bare back, bare shoulders, darn near bare bosom--not at all the image she intended to project. But the next gown startled her to alertness. It was a complete departure from its predecessors. So beautiful she forgot to breathe. "Well, Sascha?" Asked Katherine.

"I guess this one is okay. Not what I'd hoped for. But okay." She lied

"Ah! You have a truly discerning eye Mademoiselle." Marcel enthused, "Notice how long and flowing it is. And with our exquisite sewing it will fit you perfectly. C'est Magnifique. You will be ever so beautiful as you walk down the aisle."

Sascha shrugged again. "And notice the beautiful lace sleeves and lacy shoulders; it is all hand made." Marcel continued, "And it is so reasonable, only €15,000."

Sascha turned to Queen Sophia, "Wasn't there another house you wanted to visit this afternoon?" Pretty sure Marcel couldn't see, she winked.

"No dear--not until tomorrow morning. Just for fun why don't you try on this dress if they have your size?"

"But of course we have your size!" Marcel interrupted. He looked carefully at Sascha, "We will measure you, certainly, but I would estimate size 32 or size 34...petite of course."

It took every bit of Sascha's self-control not to start yelling, 'Yes! Yes! Please, I want this one!' Instead, she frowned, "Are you sure Your Highness? Katherine, Isabella, Caroline? What do you think?"

"Mama' I'm really hungry. When do we eat?" Caroline whined--fully embracing her role in the bargaining process.

"Mother, perhaps Sascha should at least try this on. We can take a couple pictures to compare to the ones she really liked from this morning." Katherine opined.

"Why waste the time? This one is nothing. Let's eat." Caroline may have overacted just a bit. Sascha almost broke her frown to laugh.

"Please, Mademoiselle, let our fitter measure you..."

"Oh, all right!" She turned to Queen Sophia, "This shouldn't take long Your Majesty."

"Wonderful!" Marcel sighed, "If you'll come with me mademoiselle, Angelique will take your measurements." Sascha stood, handed her clutch to Katherine, and followed Marcel. He led her through a side door into a very business-like work room full of sewing machines, multiple racks of cloth and thread, dress forms, and measuring tapes everywhere.

"Angelique! Over here please!" He called out. "Bring your measuring tape. Marie! This lovely mademoiselle would like to try on this year's 'Alexandrina'. I suspect size 32 or 34."

"Bonne apres-midi, mademoiselle. Je m'appelle Angelique."

"Bonjour madame. Je suis Sascha. Parlez-vous anglais? Je suis Americaine."

"Ah! Oui...I mean yes. Would you please remove your skirt and blouse so I can make accurate measurements? Wait! Marcel, a little privacy please?" He left quickly and Sascha stripped to her bra and panties. "Shoes also. Please stand here."

She held a ruler on Sascha's head as she stood against the wall, "C'est bien! 165.1 centimeters tall. She wrapped the tape around Sascha's bust. "77 cm. Waist? 58 cm. Hips? 81 cm. Lovely, a perfect size 32."

"In American, please?" Sascha grinned.

"Of course. You are a size 0 or extra small. Now, let me measure your neck, arms, and torso length. I forgot to ask, your bra cup size?"

"B."

"Good. Marie! Would you bring over the prototype 'Alexandrina' in size 32? Let's see how it looks on Mademoiselle Sascha."

Marie came out of the workroom's storage area carrying a large dress bag. The two women gathered the gown and held it up. They directed Sascha to slip underneath and carefully slide her arms into the delicate lace sleeves. As soon as her hands cleared the cuffs the gown draped itself perfectly onto Sascha's frame. Marie did up the buttons and the two women circled Sascha inspecting the fit.

"Miss Sascha? The shoes you wear today? Is the heel similar to what you'll wear on your wedding day?"

"Yes. I don't like heels any higher than this."

"Excellent. Marie? Please help her put on the shoes so we can judge the length."

When they had the shoes on, Angelique and Marie circled her again examining the fit from every angle. "Very good. Marie, grab the workbook and take notes please. Ready? Tres bien. Sleeves 1.2cm longer than standard. Raise the neckline 1.9cm. Torso..." Angelique held a tape to Sascha's body, "...add 1.7cm. Let me see please." Marie handed her the notebook and she looked it over. "Ah yes, I forgot, skirt 6mm shorter than standard. That's perfect. So, Miss Sascha would you like to look in a mirror and see what a princess looks like?"

Sascha forgot to feign boredom and nodded with excitement. Angelique led her to an alcove with mirrors on three sides and had Sascha step forward. "Oh my!" Sascha gasped, "It is beautiful." She turned this way and that, admiring herself from every angle. "C'est magnifique--not too revealing, but tantalizing--all my secrets are still protected. Yes?"

"Yes. Would you like to model it for Her Majesty and the other ladies?"

"Absolument!" Sascha grinned as she spun around and looked at the back of her gown once more, "Are all dresses this long in the back?"

"Actually, no. This dress is really rather short, the train is less than a meter. I was going to suggest adding at least another meter."

"A meter? That's almost three feet. I think that would be...um...too much. I wouldn't feel comfortable."

"Noted." Said Angelique, "One other item I wanted to mention. I know in America you have a wedding poem: Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue."

"Yes. A lot of thought goes into that superstition."

"We have a new option. On the sleeves, in place of the standard button cuffs, like these...We offer French Cuffs. Your 'something borrowed' can be a set of cufflinks from your fiancé perhaps, or your father?"

"I love it. What a wonderful idea. Let's do it. Please."

"Very good. Marie, jot that down please--Alexandrina with French Cuffs."

"Got it, Angelique. Veil?"

"Of course. I think three meters--long enough to cover all the back of the gown--plus a little."

Marie went to the storage room and came out carrying a white box. She opened the box and pulled apart the protective wrapping paper. She and Angelique gathered the lacy veil, shook it out, and settled it on Sascha.

"Lovely. Shall we?" Angelique motioned to the door for the customer showroom. She held the door as Sascha stepped through into the showroom. The queen and her daughters immediately abandoned their chairs and surrounded Sascha, expressing universal admiration.

"Sascha, you will be a truly beautiful bride."

"Thank you, ma'am. Is it bragging to say I feel very special in this?"

"Not at all. Every bride should feel like that. The wedding is her special day."

"Even when the groom is a prince?"

"Sascha, Honey," Interrupted Katherine, "Trust me. Every eye in the cathedral will be on you. Robert will be nothing more than a supporting player."

"Oh my!" Sascha sighed, "What have I done?"

"You fell in love, and said yes, silly!" Caroline laughed. They continued to chat, remarking on every detail of the dress. Angelique pointed out the modifications she planned when they built Sascha's gown. She explained the french cuff option--Queen Sophia thought it a brilliant idea.

"I think I'll ask my dad first." Queen Sophia nodded as Sascha paused. "Ma'am I have a question if I may. In America it is customary for the bride's father to escort her down the aisle. Is it the same in Douravia, or will it be different because Robert is a royal?"

"You will see several differences in the royal ceremony, but not that. It is a father's privilege to escort his daughter to her husband. Also, if for any reason your father cannot come to Douravia, King Rupert has already said he would be honored to be your escort."

"Thank you. That means a lot to me."

The queen turned to the hovering Marcel and Angelique. This is excellent. Now, the wedding is in late December this year. When will the gown be ready?"

"For you we will expedite the process. It will be ready for a fitting in mid-to-late August. After that you can visit for a final check one month before the wedding. If everything is perfect you can take the gown with you. If not, we will make any necessary adjustments and bring the gown to you."

"Excellent. Let's go girls, I'm starving. Thank you, Marcel, Angelique--a pleasure as always."

"At your service Your Majesty," Marcel and Angelique bowed as the Douravians left.

They hailed a taxi. Queen Sophia asked the driver to take them to the Golden Triangle shopping district--but first, they needed lunch. The driver dropped them at a small, non-descript, bistro. The women ate a simple lunch of salad, soup, and bread.

Finally, after she finished a particularly delicious baguette, Sascha got up the nerve to speak to the queen, "Your Majesty? About the gown?"

"Yes? Second thoughts already?" She patted Sascha's hand. "The gown suited you perfectly."

"Yes, Ma'am. That's not it. I love the gown. But...it is so...um...expensive!"

"Don't worry about that Sascha..."

"But..."

"Sascha, while you were in the fitting room, Marcel and I, had a little...ah...chat. I explained to him the free publicity he'd receive as the wedding gown designer for Princess Sascha of Douravia." Sascha blushed and sipped mineral water. "So, in return for the gown and accessories, after the wedding your gown will go on display in Marcel's display window for a couple months until the novelty wears off or until something else catches the public's attention. At which time the gown will be returned to you. If I may be so bold, would you consider loaning the gown to the Douravian National Museum after that to join the display of other royal wedding dresses? Perhaps next to mine?"

"I don't know what to say...my gown as a museum exhibit?"

"When we get home, I'll take you to see the exhibit. We have gowns dating back to the early 1600's."

"So far back as that? Can Robert see the gown, or..."

"Absolutely not! His first time to see it will be as you walk up the aisle in the cathedral." She examined the bill left by the waiter.

Sascha smiled as she finished her café au lait.

Isabella set down her cup, "Where to now, Mama'?"

"The apartment, I think. A short rest and clean-up before dinner? Is everyone ready?" She placed some cash on the table and stood.

"No more shopping?" asked Caroline.

"We'll have plenty of time to shop tomorrow before we go home." The queen led the group from the bistro and started off down the sidewalk.

Caroline grabbed Sascha's hand, "Come on. Our apartment is just around the corner. We'll be there in five minutes." She paused, and then whispered, "Maybe less. Mama' seems to be in a hurry."

The group arrived in front of a neat, but not particularly impressive building. Queen Sophia pressed a button on the door and stood back. In seconds the door clicked and a uniformed doorman stepped out to hold it for them, "Welcome back, Your Majesty. Ladies." He bowed as they passed by.

They approached a small, antique-looking desk. An older man, wearing a dark blue pinstriped suit, white shirt, and a dark maroon tie, stood and greeted them, "Good afternoon, Your Majesty. Here is your key, the apartment is ready. Your driver delivered your bags this morning."

"Thank you, Jacques. Would you arrange a dinner reservation for us? 20:00 will be fine."

"Where would you like to dine, Ma'am?"

"Someplace nice. Surprise me."

Jacques smiled, "Excellent. If I may, Your Majesty, I recognize your daughters, but who is this lovely young lady?" He nodded in Sascha's direction.

"I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me. Sascha Janovitch please meet M. Jacques Contin. Monsieur Contin is the manager, and concierge, and majordomo, and whatever he needs to be, for the occupants of the St. Francis. Jacques, Sascha is Prince Edwin's fiancée--my future daughter-in-law. The king and I will be making a formal announcement in the next few days. I'd appreciate it if you'd not mention anything until we make the announcement."

"I promise. I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Janovitch."

"You're very kind. Thank you, sir." Sascha smiled.

"Ah! You are American?"

"Oui. Je viens d'Amerique." (Yes. I come from America). Sascha decided to show off just a bit.

"Tres bien, mademoiselle. Bienvenue a Saint Francois."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Come on girls, let's go upstairs." They moved down a short corridor to a pair of old, make that antique-looking elevators. Sascha gave the one on the left a wary look. "Relax dear. The appearance is just cosmetic, the machinery is all state of the art." The queen pulled open the gate on the right elevator and entered, Katherine followed.

Isabella and Caroline showed Sascha how to unlatch the gate and they entered. Caroline pushed #6. They reached their floor and moved a short way down the hall to a glistening hardwood, double door. Queen Sophia unlocked the apartment and entered. Katherine smiled at Sascha and gestured for her to follow the queen.