A hesitant hand brushed down the reddish short hair. The skin trembled under the hand, ticklish. The moves became surer as the being docilely stood, making soft noises through the nose. The long lashes above the expressive eyes blinked, the gaze fixed on the fruit held on the other hand. Once the hand had enough, the fruit was finally offered. The horse did not think twice before biting onto it.
The hand recoiled a bit, but the horse chased after it, after the fruit. When nothing was left of the crispy and juicy delicacy, it sadly snorted. Luckily, another fruit appeared on its other side, carried by the bigger and more experienced hand that had been combing its light brown mane and tail. A happy neigh came out from its mouth; it was tired of the subpar hay offered, not only where it lived before, but in its new home.
However, the horse was grateful that, at least, its new home provided delicious treats in the form of fruits. If only the hay could be changed…
Straps were placed around the horse; a harness that connected to the cart. Then, it was walked towards said cart to be strapped. The horse was young, so did not know when he was meant to move forward, to stop, to move this or that way, but it was going to learn; starting with associating a specific sound with a certain action.
Though, while it learned, someone had to move beside it to guide. Lucas had started the endeavour the day before, yet this day, it was Joseph. A Joseph who was going to accompany Isabelle on her outing to town. To take advantage of it, he decided to buy the vegetable saplings or seeds to plant so they could have a harvest on late summer or the beginning of fall as soon as the land was prepared.
"I feel a bit bad for making the thin colt pull me and Isolde to town." Isabelle lamented, seeing the small horse in front of the elaborate cart. Not only it had to deal with two people, but with the cart weight, too!
"'twas bought to be used." Although Ethan's words were true, they did not sit well with her. She guessed he was still upset about her decision, yet she also it was not wrong.
Actually, more than her decision, it was her attitude (that everything she did was right) that puckered Ethan's expression. Could she not understand that they were just worried about her health; that they wanted her to rest while she could? Though, thinking on his working habits, then he was not the best example, but still… Even if she did not listen to him, she could listen to Lucas or Felix.
Joseph glanced at his sour brother. He was made aware by Ethan about his opposition in letting their Wife travel in her bleeding days. Joseph agreed to a degree, but since there were options for her to not overexert, then what was the issue? "I'll let the horse rest from time to time." The third brother reassured Isabelle.
And, if those stops wasted time, time that Ethan did not have as he had to abide to a schedule, then Joseph was being petty and proud of it. The eldest threw the third brother a withering glare that went ignored as the three made their way out to pick Isolde up and then continue on their journey.
And, if Isolde noticed the strangeness between the three, then she did not comment on it. Her and Isabelle kept an amiable conversation about Crisse's new job, how Isolde felt about moving to another place, what were the Chief's thoughts, and so on, while marveling at the cart and how comfortable and convenient it was.
Crisse had money to buy a horse to transport, yet he had claimed to be saving it for a more important matter. At that time, neither knew what important matter it would be until the invitation from Silver City's school came. Now, they had money to move out and start a new life in a city.
True to his words, Joseph let the colt rest quite a few times on the way, filling a little bucket with water for the colt to drink and giving some hay. Ethan had wanted to stubbornly stay with them, yet seeing how long the first stop was, then he could only huffily walk ahead. Isabelle inwardly sighed while Joseph smugly smiled.
It seemed she still was going to be nagged at by her eldest Husband.
At the town's entrance, the cart and the horse were left at the stables area. Isabelle, not wanting to make their little colt suffer a loss, paid the stable boy to take good care of it, feeding the best hay and giving her cleanest water. She paid a pretty penny for it, but thought it was worth it.
Basin Town's streets were wide enough for carriages to travel; however, that right was exclusive for the wealthy and some big businesses that had corresponding permissions for carriages to transport goods, not people. Even then, carriages could only traverse through a certain area, made specifically for carriages. Narrow streets and alleys were, of course, for passersby.
To Isabelle, who was on her bleeding days, walking from the gate to Mrs. Attile's shop was the most torturous moment in her whole life (at least, the short life she remembered); she could not speed up because that would discharge more blood, and could not go too slow out of fear that the pad would not hold. She almost cried tears of joy when she set sights on the shop.
The small bell above the door jingled with their entrance.
"Oh! Isabell-"
"No time to speak, Mrs. Attile! Lend me your loo!" Isabelle interrupted the older woman, who blinked disconcerted yet still hurriedly showed the way to the personnel's loo.
A heavy discharge and a change of pad later, Isabelle came out of the loo with a relieved expression. The moment she walked out and appeared in the storefront area, the three women there: Mrs. Attile, Ginna and Isolde, looked at her with a constipated expression. Confused, she turned to looked at Joseph, yet he was busy walking around the shop.
Isabelle was effectively left to wade through the situation alone. "Thanks for lending me the loo, Mrs-"
"Forget about that! How can you come out of the house in this condition?" The older woman immediately chided.
Isabelle blinked. "Because I feel well?" She uncertainly voiced. She had no ailments; as in, no pain or fatigue. It was just the heavy flow.
"You're not well! You're…!" Mrs. Attile cut herself off and came closer to hiss in the younger woman´s ear. "You're in your bleeding days! You have to stay at home!" Isolde, having caught the words, nodded. Isabelle did agree that being home would be more comfortable; however, Mrs. Attile's tone made it sound as if women in their bleeding days were useless.
Which might be true in her situation, but Isabelle felt more useless being idle.
"It does not matter. I am already here." There was no point in scolding her when the matter was already done. So, the younger woman stated her reason for being there; mostly to prevent the older woman from descending into a scolding fit. "Isolde here needs to buy fabric. Her husband is a teacher and they are moving to Silver City. They need new clothes."
Mrs. Attile narrowed her eyes, noticing what Isabelle was trying to do, yet willingly dropped the matter. She turned to Isolde who had no idea where to look, what to do, or what to say now that the attention turned to her. "What kind of fabric are you looking for, Mrs..?"
"I… um, I'm Mrs. Ryon, and, well, I have no idea." Isolde nervously replied, lowering her head.
"Flannel." Isabelle interjected, going to the shelf where the mentioned fabric was.
Flannel was perfect for casual shirts since it had a slight brushed, fuzzy effect to the material, which lent to its feeling of coziness. It could be used in semi-formal attire depending on the accessories. And since summer was around the corner, it was a good option to not cook oneself. That did remind Isabelle to ask if they also needed winter coats.
That also made her think of her Husbands. Did they need winter coats?
"White one… and maybe this cream color. Oh, and this blue." Her mouth distractedly ran while her eyes looked for the perfect fabric for matching coats. "Do you have something winter resistant?" She asked, glancing at Mrs. Attile, then turning her gaze to Isolde. "Do you need coats?"
Isolde thought back to their padded jackets; which were not bad, but if they were going to stick with Isabelle's designs, then they were… they did not match. "I guess…" Still, in her mind she thought if it was necessary. They could buy ready-made coats…
"Got this called tweed." Mrs. Attile returned with a bolt of grayish fabric that had whitish stripes and copper lines running through it. It was an interesting weave. And when touched, it felt rough yet durable. Isabelle was truly itching to buy a couple of yards for her and her Husbands. "1 coin the yard." The older woman added.
Isabelle nodded. "Then, I would need… five of the Tweed; two yards of black Poplin, no, let it be five. Five of black, and another two of moss green. For the Flannel, two of the white, two of the crème, and one for the blue. Finally, one of black Sateen…"
"Um… I only brought 10 coins..." Isolde softly reminded.
Both her and her Husband were thrilled about the new clothes, yet they also needed to consider their budget. Moving to another place was not easy. The trip was long and not exactly straight; carrying all their necessities was foolish. At most, they could take a few things, like pans and pots and utensils. A chest with their clothes and shoes, and perhaps a small table.
Anything else, it had to be bought on the way or at the city. And considering the prices at more prosperous towns, not to say the city, they were prepared to be 'robbed'. So, they were a bit tight on money. 10 coins for clothes was the most they could fork out.
Seeing Isolde's tight expression, Isabelle reconsidered. "Do you do halves?"
Mrs. Attile pondered, "I can do the exception because it's you," and compromised.
"Then, take out the blue Flannel, one of Tweed and half of the Sateen." Like that, the total amount would be 9 coins and 7 dimes, Isabelle calculated. Mrs. Attile also did the math and confirmed the price. Right within the budget. Only cutting the fabric was left; task that was left to Ginna.
With that out of the way, Isabelle posed her gaze on the human-like figure placed in front of the shop's window. In the time she had not visited the shop, Mrs. Attile had seriously put her plan into motion. Which indicated Isabelle one thing:
"You got the fabrics for the dresses." Together with the designs, she had written down a list of fabrics to make the dresses. If everything was ready, then, she could start sewing.
"My cousin almost has a heart-attack when she read the list. You actually chose quite the expensive ones." Mrs. Attile sighed, reminded of the shocked expression on her cousin's face.
Isabelle's eyebrow twitched. She had no idea what the prices for the fabrics were, just knew their feeling and appearance. Once again, her sketchy memory reared its head. "So, she did not provide for the fabrics?" She carefully questioned.
"Yes, and no. Since she was very interested in the designs, she gave away a few bolts." Mrs. Attile grinned. "However, the fabric is the second best according to her. They are at the back. Just tell me which dress you're going to make first to move the bolts to the front."
Might as well start with the biggest one.
"The one with the veil. I will start tomorrow…"
"Day after tomorrow!" Mrs. Attile interrupted. "Just rest." She looked at the younger woman with reproach, not having forgotten her stunt.
Isabelle sheepishly smiled, though, inwardly she was despairing. If she rested, then she would have to hurry with the sewing. And, with Mrs. Attile's firm attitude, then she had no way to argue against the orders to rest.
Her newlywed life was officially doomed.