The next morning, Claire was woken abruptly to the sound of doors banging open and the soft hiss of metal on metal as the drapes were flung wide allowing early morning sunlight to flood the previously dark room.

"Time to greet the day! We've got so much to do before tonight!"

Claire sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she tried to make sense of what was happening. "Arabella? What's going on? Is it nine o'clock already?"

"Of course not, silly, it's just past six," the young woman exclaimed.

Claire groaned and pulled the heavy blanket over her head. She wasn't certain what time she and Alek had returned the night before, but the house had been dark save for a lone light left burning in the downstairs foyer. After an exchange of awkward good nights, the two had parted ways, Alek retreating to his attic sanctuary while Claire was left to her thoughts.

Claire had gone about her nightly ritual in an almost dream like state, her mind returning time and again to that moment just before they were interrupted, when her heart had felt ready to leap from her chest and Alek had gotten so close she could feel his breath against her cheek.

Afterwards she had laid in bed for some time, listening to the crackle and pop of logs in the hearth, wondering, as she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, if Alek had felt as disappointed by the interruption as she had.

"Come on now, Claire," Arabella admonished, "we have a tight schedule and if you wish to eat breakfast then I suggest you get up sooner rather than later. Octavia will be here at ten for a final fitting and the stylist will be here in an hour."

An hour? Claire was beginning to regret agreeing to attend the ball. She tried to recall if Cinderella had to go through this much preparation before her big night and then it dawned on her.

"I need a fairy godmother," Claire declared, her voice muffled by the blanket.

"A fairy what?" Ara asked and Claire felt the blanket being pulled away. She tried to keep it in place, but Arabella's will was stronger and in the end she succeeded in wrestling the blanket from Claire's grip.

"Would you be offended if I told you I hated you right now?" Claire asked as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

"Not at all," Arabella replied with a bright smile. "Now come along, Ms. Avery already has some things laid out for us and I want to hear all about your evening with my brother."

Arabella hopped up and swept towards the door. She paused just outside and looked back towards Claire. "If you aren't downstairs in ten minutes, I'm going to be back with a bucket of cold water."

Somehow, Claire didn't think she was bluffing.

Breakfast was a simple affair comprised mostly of muffins and biscuits with an array of jams, not that Claire had much time to sample any of it. The moment she sat down, Arabella began to grill her about the previous evening.

"Where did he take you?" Arabella asked as she slathered some strawberry jam onto a slice of toasted bread. "The theatre? The opera? Some place more... private?"

"We had pie," Claire said, focusing her attention on the plate of muffins as though she were having trouble deciding which one she wanted.

"Pie? My brother took you to... this is why he'll never marry," Arabella said with a forlorned sigh. She brought the toast to her mouth as though she intended to take a bite, only to lower it again. "That's all you did all night was eat pie?"

"No," Claire said.

She saw Arabella frown out of the corner of her eye and knew the young woman had hoped for more than the short answers Claire was providing.

"Well what else did you do?"

If one thing could be said about Alek's sister, she was not one to beat around the bush.

"We walked and then we went ice skating," Claire said at last, "what time did you say Octavia was going to be here?"

"You did what?" Ara exclaimed, dropping her uneaten toast to her plate. "My, my, Claire, you certainly are a miracle worker. How did you ever convince my brother to put on a pair of ice skates?"

Claire looked towards Arabella and shrugged. "I asked nicely?"

Well, she had goaded him into it, but why split hairs?

"Incredible," Arabella said shaking her head.

"I don't see what's so surprising about it," Claire said, feeling awkward. "It's not like I did anything special."

"Oh, but you did," Arabella continued, picking up her toast again. "Alek hasn't gone near an ice skating rink since the incident."

Claire looked towards Arabella who pretended to be examining her toast, no doubt waiting for Claire to inquire about said incident. Claire was certain Arabella was being intentionally vague, and Claire was tempted to ignore the statement and carry on as though she hadn't heard it, but her own curiosity got the better of her in the end.

"What incident, Arabella?" Claire asked, doing her best to keep her exasperation from exposing itself in her words. Even if it had, Arabella was so keen on sharing the tale she wouldn't have noticed anyway.

"When Alek was just a boy, I think ten or eleven? I was barely born so I don't remember exactly," Arabella said with a flippant wave of her hand, "he and some other boys went down to the pond to go ice fishing. A dull past time if you ask me, who wants to sit out in the cold over a hole in the ice waiting for fish? I mean, don't fish sleep all winter?"

Claire stared at her for a moment, wondering if the question was even worth answering and decided not to encourage Arabella's obvious lack of knowledge when it came to the natural world. "What happened?"

"Well, Alek, he likes to show off and he had just learned this new magic trick from father that would allow him to create creatures out of ice and snow. The way the story goes, he made a rather large fish and had it bite onto the line of one of the other boys, Algernon Penworst if I recall correctly. What happened wasn't really Alek's fault, the pond hadn't been frozen long and they shouldn't have gone out to begin with, but the ice was thin where the boys had made their holes and when the fish struggled against the line it pulled Algernon right in."

As though to emphasize, Arabella took a grape from a bowl near the center of the table and dropped it with a loud plop into a nearby glass of water. "Just like that. He was rescued of course, and survived the incident without any lasting effects, but Alek never did go near the ice after that. So the fact that you got him to go skating is indeed a miracle."

Claire felt an unexpected pang of guilt. Had she known the true reason behind his aversion she never would have pressured him into going out onto the ice. Then again, maybe not. Despite Arabella's tale and claims, and Alek's initial reluctance, by the end of the night he had seemed to be enjoying himself.

Pushing the thoughts from her mind, Claire finally chose a muffin from the plate, her stomach grumbling in anticipation. She only managed two bites before Ms. Avery entered the room looking as though she had smelled something unpleasant.

"Mr. Zophar Beeching has arrived, miss," she announced, her expression tight.

"Wonderful! Please show him to the parlor, Claire and I will join him momentarily," Arabella instructed. Ms. Avery looked like she wanted to say something but instead she nodded stiffly before turning on her heel and marching from the dining room.

Arabella rose from the table and motioned for Claire to join her.

"You said momentarily..." Claire replied, casting a forlorn look towards the half eaten muffin.

"We can't keep Mr. Beeching waiting, Claire, do you know how long it took me to convince him to take the both of us? He is highly sought after and his time is valuable!"

Claire sighed and reluctantly set the muffin back down again. It was far too early and Claire didn't have the strength to argue with Arabella. She followed her out of the dining room, her stomach gurgling in quiet protest.

"There, finished," Arabella announced proudly before stepping back.

After hours spent preparing, hearing those words nearly made Claire weep for joy. She refrained, of course, afraid of doing anything that might mess up the makeup Arabella had spent the better part of an hour applying.

"What do you think?" Arabella asked, glancing towards Octavia who was still present hours after completing the finishing touches on Claire's gown.

"You are a true artist, Ara," Octavia replied, "she'll turn heads, that's for sure."

"Alek better keep you close," Arabella teased, "else you get swept off your feet by someone far more dashing."

Claire, who hadn't been allowed to look in a mirror since the entire process had begun, shifted anxiously from one bare foot to the other. She had yet to don her shoes, wanting to spare her feet the discomfort for as long as possible.

"Who will you dance with?" Octavia asked as she came to lean against the vanity.

Ara looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, with all the men tripping over themselves to get to Claire, they'll be no one left for you," Octavia replied, grinning broadly as she examined the tray of pastries Ms. Avery had brought into the room along with a pot of tea that had long since gone cold.

"Oh, aren't we witty," Ara scoffed, "and how many men are tripping over themselves to get to you, hmm?"

"I'll tell you the next time I'm in bed," Octavia replied with a scandalous wink before pushing herself from her lean and strolling towards the door. "You ladies enjoy your ball."

"What... what is that supposed to mean?" Ara called after her. "Octavia, you come back here right now!"

Gathering up her skirts in her arms, Ara rushed to follow, leaving Claire alone.

Closing her eyes, Claire took a deep breath and spent a moment savoring the quiet that always seemed sweetest when experienced in the wake of Arabella's exit from a room. Claire could not deny a growing fondness for the young woman, but she was exhausting in a way Claire had never experienced before.

One more steadying breath had Claire opening her eyes and turning slowly towards the full length mirror behind her.

The woman that stared back at her was startlingly familiar in the most unfamiliar of ways. For a moment, Claire thought she was seeing a ghost rather than her own reflection for the woman staring back at her looked just as her mother had before the illness had eaten away at her, leaving her a shell of her former self.

Without realizing it, Clair drifted closer, hand outstretched, her fingers brushing the cold glass, startling her back to reality.

Neither woman had been exaggerating in regards to Arabella's skill with the brush. Claire resisted the urge to reach up and touch the delicate, shimmering, dusting of pale blue that coated her eyes, or the sapphires strung on thin silver chains woven through her hair.

As requested, midst heated protests from both Mr. Beeching and Arabella, Claire's hair had been curled and braided and drawn to rest over one bared shoulder.

It was Octavia's gown that was truly breathtaking, with fabric that felt so fine and delicate beneath her finger tips that Claire was concerned about moving in it, let alone dancing.

The powder blue tulle reminded Claire of the many costumes her mother had worn on stage, perhaps part of the reason she was greeted so unexpectedly by the spectral reminder.

Taking a deep breath she tried to ignore the tightness of the corset as it worked to keep 'everything in its place'. At least, that was how Octavia had so eloquently put it when Claire had whined about having to don archaic torture device.

While Claire could not certainly not attest for how the gown would look without the corset, with it, the fitted bodice decorated in a flurry of delicate, hand embroidered snowflakes, looked exquisite.

With great reluctance, Claire moved to where the shoes lay in wait, the dress swishing softly with each step and causing Claire to smile. She had never had a reason to dress up before, at least not to this extent.

She hadn't attended any dances in school, not even her prom, and she certainly would never have been able to afford anything as lovely as this gown.

Claire was wiggling her foot into the second shoe when she heard a soft knock. Turning she saw Alek standing there, a large box in his arms. He looked dashing as ever in a suit of dark blue trimmed in black, the single breasted waistcoat underneath the same shade of blue as the gown Claire was wearing. It's four silver buttons were securely fastened, each sporting a tiny sapphire chip in their center.

Meeting his eyes, Claire felt heat rise to her cheeks when she realized he was staring.

"You look... stunning," he managed at last.

"You look very dashing yourself," Claire replied, wondering if she was as red as she feared.

Silence lingered until Alek cleared his throat and stepped into the room. "I uh, I bought you something," he said, setting the box down on the table and taking a step back. "Its um, I saw it while I was out and I thought you might like it."

Claire looked to the box and back to him. "Alek, I couldn't... you've already done so much..."

He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit Claire was beginning to recognize as a nervous tick. "Consider it a Christmas gift," he said.

Claire frowned, she hadn't even thought to get him something.

"Don't feel bad about not getting me anything," he said as though he could read her mind, "I don't care much for receiving gifts. Please, open it." He motioned towards the box once more.

Letting out a soft sigh, Claire relented and grasped the lid of the box with both hands. It rose smoothly, revealing dark blue paper. Setting the lid aside, Claire slowly pulled back the tissue and gasped when her fingers curled into something silky soft. It was a cape, whiter than snow and lined with soft, luxurious fur.

"Alek, it's too much!"

"Nonsense," he said with a flippant wave of his hand. He strolled over and took the cape from her. "It's cold, you'll need something to wear tonight, a regular coat won't do. It's completely practical." He draped it over her shoulders and fumbled a moment with the ornate silver clasp which came to rest in the hollow of her throat.

"I'm going to pay you back," Claire murmured, "for all of this."

Alek chuckled, hooking his finger beneath her chin and tilting her head back until their eyes met. "How exactly do you intend to do that?"

"I'll get a job," Claire insisted.

"What sort of job?" Alek inquired, genuinely curious.

"I can... go work for Octavia, I know how to sew, and measure, and I'm sure she could use the extra help," Claire declared.

Alek laughed again and shook his head. "That won't be necessary, Claire," Alek said at last, offering his arm to her. "Like I told Arabella yesterday, I'm sending this tab to my father, it won't be the first time my darling sister has run up such an exorbitant bill. He'll barely bat an eye."

Claire started to speak, but Alek just shook his head. "We can argue about it later if you're so inclined, but we really must be off if we're to arrive on time."

"Alright, but this isn't the end of the conversation," Claire insisted as Alek lead her from the room.

"Oh no, of course not," Alek agreed, his smile suggesting otherwise.