Under the Italian's Command Read Online Free PDF

only last year a judge’s daughter had been sick in her own handbag. She told herself to concentrate on the positives.
     
    All one of them.
     
    Her middle name was Viola, like Shakespeare’s heroine in Twelfth Night. The play had first been performed in 1602 in the very same hall where the Grand Court was held. What more mojo did she need? Everything would be fine.
     
    Hopefully.
     
    All she had to do was stand up and state her name, along with the date of her call, and the ancient Inn that had called her to the bar. After that, she just had to declare her wish to join the circus—
     
    Circuit, Carly corrected herself grimly.
     
    A slip like that could cost her her career. If she stumbled over the words, tradition demanded she start her little speech all over again, which was when the seniors’ fun began. It was their task to shout her down, drown her out, and ultimately destroy her.
     
    Calm, Carly commanded herself a second time, sucking in a deep, steadying breath. Everything would go to plan, but she must leave no stone unturned, which brought her thoughts full circle to the question of her outfit for the occasion. Fortunately, she had a secret weapon…
     
    Madeline Du Pre, the most senior pupil in chambers, was Carly’s elder by three years. Madeline was the recognised expert in fashion by virtue of a stint at a Swiss finishing school. Rumour had it that Madeline had been forced to repeat her first six months of training several times due to…Well, no one really knew, and Madeline wasn’t telling, but the pupil master in charge of broadening her experience, one Judge Roger Warrington, never visited Madeline’s office unaccompanied these days.
     
    Madeline the modiste if not the modest, Carly thought as she rapped smartly on Madeline’s door.
     
    Carly didn’t have long to wait for Madeline’s verdict.
     
    ‘Black? Are you mad?’
     
    ‘Black’s safe,’ Carly protested. ‘Legal-black is practically a definition,’ she pointed out. ‘In fact it should be a colour in the paint box. I can see it now—black, with a silvering of dust, and a touch of green mould…Don’t look at me like that, Madeline. You know as well as I do that wearing black will take you through anything.’
     
    ‘Except a wedding.’ Madeline sniffed. ‘For you…’ cocking her head to one side, she gave Carly a long, considering look ‘…it has to be orange.’
     
    ‘Orange?’ Carly’s eyes widened as she pictured her flame- coloured hair framed in orange. ‘Are you sure?’
     
    ‘Quite sure…Orange will be perfect with your colouring .’
     
    It was important to get this right, and Madeline’s scarlet talons were already drumming the desk.
     
    ‘If you really think so…’ Carly’s voice trailed away as a horror snap in some down-market journal flew into her mind. There would be a banner heading with her looking fat, proclaiming, ORANGE JUISTICE!
     
    But Madeline was already leading her by the arm towards the door…
     
    ‘Stop worrying. Orange is absolutely your colour ,’ Madeline soothed. ‘You mustn’t even think of wearing black. You can only wear black when you’ve been accepted by the Grand Court. You’ll cause an uproar if you go against tradition, Carly . Now, fortunately I can help you out. There’s a fabulous second-hand designer clothes place, just about half a mile from here. I saw a dress in their window this morning that would be perfect for you. I even have their card…’
     
    She handed it over and Carly read, ‘One Starry Night: Model gowns by Madame Xandra …Available to hire, or to buy…’
     
    ‘Thank you,’ Carly said, frowning uncertainly.
     
     
     
    It wasn’t that Carly was fat, Madame Xandra explained helpfully, it was just that ball gowns were meant to fit snugly.
     
    Which was all right for Madame Xandra , Carly thought mutinously, since she was thread-thin. Viewing her red face in the mirror, she knew she couldn’t possibly hold her breath like this