Chapter Text
1908, New York City
As Andy stepped off of the train at Grand Central Station, she was immediately almost knocked off of her feet. A flood of travelers lined the station, hastily sifting through crowds as if their train or destination waited for no man. She adjusted the hat loosely tied on her head and took in her surroundings more thoroughly. There were at least four newspaper stands in her immediate vision, and she found herself pulled toward the nearest one.
The Times, The Post, The Sun…
All established staples for New York’s most engaged readers. She felt her eyes sparkle when they finally landed on the publication she’d been looking for, which had been slowly making its way into the center cluster over the last few months.
The New York Ledger by Sachs Publishing and Printing Company
While she’d been away studying at Vassar Women’s College, her parents’ printing press turned publishing house had gained considerable traction in the city, justifying the change in lifestyle her mother had described to her in recent letters. They’d moved from Gramercy Park to Madison Avenue, a massive leap in both square footage and social stature. A leap Andy wasn’t sure if she would embrace or resist as she returned to living with her parents after earning her degree.
It was the reason Andy now found herself looking for a tall, broad-shouldered driver named Edward. She actually hoped he might find her - as “tall” and '“broad-shouldered” were the only descriptors her mother had written about the man but she’d supposedly shown him a recent photograph of Andy.
After only another moment or two of searching, her hopes were realized as a man fitting that exact description entered her peripheral vision. He was indeed tall and wore a friendly smile.
“Miss Sachs?”
She smiled in relief, overjoyed to not have to spend a minute more searching this sea of busybodies.
“That’s me,” she said. “But you can call me Andy. All of my friends call me Andy.”
He nodded. “Miss Sachs.”
Edward took her suitcase and guided her out of the train station and toward a waiting carriage. Unlike the one she’d grown up riding in, this one featured gold accents and a silent hinge that she took note of as Edward opened the door. Just as Andy was about to walk toward the edge of the curb, a few small boys ran through a puddle just next to the carriage and managed to splash some of the muddy water onto Andy’s ivory dress.
They scampered off as Edward stepped forward to reprimand them, but he remained silent as the children ran through the crowd and out of earshot. He let out a huff and turned toward Andy.
“My deepest apologies Miss Sachs. I should have shielded you. I’ll advise Mr. Wesley to remove the cost to clean or replace your gown out of my weekly salary.”
Andy shuddered at the thought and immediately reached for his arm, a gesture he appeared confused by. She could hardly stomach the idea of someone sacrificing their hard-earned salary for something so ridiculous, in the current employ of her family or not.
“You’ll do no such thing,” she said calmly. “I have removed stains far worse from this exact garment.”
He nodded. “Then I will personally see that it gets to Ms. Martin as soon as we arrive at the residence.”
“Who is Ms. Martin? And who is Mr. Wesley?”
The two names that had rolled off of Edwards tongue so easily were simultaneously completely foreign to her. Edward nodded again, an expression painting his face that indicated he might have thought he had gotten ahead of himself.
“Mr. Wesley is your family’s butler, and Ms. Martin is the housekeeper. She’ll see that your dress is properly tended to by one of the housemaids.”
Andy’s smile widened. “And see, I’ve been responsible for washing my dresses for my entire life. If a professional is meant to tend to it now, there’s even fewer reasons for concern.”
Edward’s face softened as he nodded again. “If you insist, Miss Sachs.”
Andy turned to him as she took his outstretched hand to help her inside of the carriage.
“That I do,” she reassured.
The ride to the Sachs’ new family home from the train station lasted approximately twenty-five minutes. Andy couldn’t resist pulling the curtain back from the window as the pace of the carriage slowed, her curiosity getting the better of her. The area was unfamiliar to Andy, new, expansive houses lining the cobblestone streets. She wondered what or who influenced her parents to move into this more upscale part of town. As far as Andy was concerned, their old residence was perfectly-suited for their needs.
After only a few moments more, the carriage stopped and she heard Edward descend from the driver’s platform. Once she acclimated to the blinding daylight that streamed in through the open door, she took in the sight of the four-story ivory residence before her. Waiting just outside the door was a man dressed in garb similar to that of Edward’s as well as a woman in a black, floor-length working dress and a younger woman beside her.
She took Edward’s extended hand and descended the carriage steps, anxious to see her mother and father after her morning-long journey. The man standing at the steps walked forward and gave a polite bow.
“Miss Sachs, I am most honored to meet you. I am Milton Wesley, the Sachs family butler.” He glanced behind his shoulder and stepped aside for further introductions.
“This is Ms. Martin, the Housekeeper, and Miss Souza, your Lady’s Maid.”
Andy stepped forward as the two women curtsied, locking friendly eyes with the latter who was to tend to her needs while residing in this house.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” she said with a smile.
Ms. Souza lowered her head once more but Ms. Martin returned a polite smile. “The pleasure is ours, Miss Sachs.” Her gaze lowered to take in the state of Andy’s dress.
Following her eyes and likely train of thought, Andy chuckled.
“Yes, it seems I’ll need your assistance right away.”
Ms. Martin nodded. “Of course. Ms. Souza will accompany you to your bedchambers and help you dress.”
Andy followed the two women into the house, immediately taken with the extravagant lighting and high ceilings. The walls were lined with delicate sconces and paintings, but one of her parents’ original printing building caught Andy’s eye. With the exception of the personal artwork, she knew her mother could never have decorated like this on her own. She must have had a professional come in.
Speaking of…
“Where are my mother and father? I’d hoped they’d be here to greet me.”
“Your father had an early meeting at his office,” Mr. Wesley answered while closing the door behind them. “Mrs. Sachs is upstairs but should be down in a moment.”
Desperate to avoid the growing commotion of servants moving chairs and decorative pieces here and there, Andy hurriedly walked toward the staircase. She turned to her lady’s maid as they began to ascend to the upper floor together.
“Will you take me to her first?”
She smiled. “Of course, Miss Sachs.”
“Please,” Andy said. “Please call me Andy.”
The woman, who couldn’t have been much older than Andy, widened her eyes. “It is not proper, Miss.”
“I’m aware. It’s just odd to hear,” Andy sighed. “Please, call me Andy. I’ll defend you should anyone take offense to it, I assure you.”
“Okay,” the woman said. “Miss… Andy.”
Andy chuckled as they climbed the last step. “Well at least that’s an improvement.” She gave the woman another look. “Souza, that is an interesting family name. Where are you from?”
“Brazil,” she answered. “My father brought my family to the city a few years ago. They have since moved to Pennsylvania. Your family was kind enough to offer me a position here, so I chose to stay.”
“Oh my, what a unique family history! I do wish to hear all about it.” She paused, then added, “Can I know your name?”
The woman smiled warmly. “Serena, Miss.”
“Serena,” Andy repeated with a smile as she linked her arm around the other woman’s. “I hope we shall become very good friends.”
“My darling!”
Andy’s head turned when she saw her mother exiting a room down the hall, her slightly aged face broken out into an expression of joy and relief. She let go of Serena and quickened her pace across the floor, enveloping her mother in a tight hug - well, as tight as her mother’s dress skirt would allow.
“Your journey - was it pleasant?”
Andy smiled. “It was easy enough. A simple train ride before meeting the new chauffeur.” She turned around to vaguely gesture to the rest of the house. “And then I arrived and everyone has been so pleasant. But I am not used to having so many attendees.”
“It has taken some acclimatization, but the staff is truly wonderful.” Her mother leaned in. “I think Mrs. Mallory’s cooking has more to do with the joy on your father’s face when he comes home than I do.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Andy laughed.
“Just you wait until you’ve had her roast. You may never want to leave,” her mother quipped with a sly smile.
Andy had voiced her interest in visiting the company’s new printing and publishing building a few blocks down the road, but she was informed that they wouldn’t have the time. Instead, Andy let her mother give her a slow tour of their new abode, every room fixed with coordinated furniture and decor.
The decoration in every space of the residence was tasteful but still personal, but Andy found herself admiring the study most. All of the walls in the expansive room lined with books and publications, most of which Andy had read and some she hadn’t. Her mother had beamed upon showing it to her, and Andy was grateful to have been brought up in a family that shared in her literary passion.
In fact, she’d daresay they had fostered it.
Only after their tour ended back at Andy’s bedroom did Eleanor Sachs inform her that they would be hosting a soiree later that evening to celebrate her return from Vassar Women’s College.
So that was how Andy now found herself, trying on various dresses with Serena’s help in order to find one that needed the least amount of adjustment considering the short notice. They settled on a long, slim gown that featured an interesting shade of blue, one Andy had not seen before.
She sat down on the chair at the vanity so that Serena could tend to her hair. The lady’s maid took gentle care while unpinning the long, brunette curls from the loose pin-up Andy had done earlier that morning. She wondered if the quiet, solitary days in the company of her most beloved novels were soon to be long gone - replaced by hurried days and loud, social evenings.
“How often do they host like this?” Andy’s eyes darted up to meet Serena’s in the mirror.
“Not often, Miss. But they do enjoy spending more evenings than not in friendly company. Most often at the home of the Charltons or your father’s business associates.”
“And will I always be expected to join them?” Andy felt her hopes of a quiet summer transition back into her parents’ world following her time away at school quickly slipping out of her grasp.
Serena, sensing Andy’s hesitation, sighed quietly. She met Andy’s eyes again but then quickly returned them to the task of brushing through Andy’s hair. “I am not sure, Miss.”
Andy watched her and thought it was entirely possible that she knew something she was trying not to let on to. She could press her on it, but then Andy remembered that her father was the one who paid their salaries. Therefore, the effort would - in all likelihood - be in vain.
She brushed off the notion. Serena seemed amenable enough, and Andy figured she could gain her confidence in time.
After a few final pins in her hair as well as a quick sift through a collection of fine jewelry that Andy had never seen before, her mother deemed her ‘ready’ - what ever that was to mean. They descended the stairs together to find a completely transformed entryway into their home. Uniformed waitstaff stood with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvre. Andy spotted her father near the front door, greeting who she assumed to be professional contacts. She quickened her pace, the corners of his mouth turning up into an undeniable smile as she came into his view.
“…Ah, and this,” he said, reaching for both of her arms, “is our darling Andrea.”
She kissed both of his cheeks. “Hello, father.”
“Welcome home,” Richard replied with a warm grin. He turned back to the man he’d been speaking with. “Andrea, this is a business associate of mine, Irving Reynolds. He’s a part owner of the New York Gazette.”
“Mr. Reynolds, it’s a pleasure,” Andy said as she turned toward the man. He was shorter than her and wore an overwhelming amount of cologne, and not one Andy found herself particularly fond of.
Mr. Reynolds nodded politely at her and then darted his eyes away. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Sachs. Richard, I will look to catch up with you in the later hours.”
“Of course, Irving. Enjoy yourself!”
Once the short man walked out of earshot, Richard turned more squarely to face Andy. He stepped back to take in her gown.
“And what a lovely gown Ms. Souza picked out for you! I am sure you two had a chance to meet.” Andy nodded in response before Richard pressed further. “Is she to your liking? She seemed younger for a lady’s maid, but your mother and I thought you might appreciate that.
“Yes, very much so,” Andy answered. “All of the staff have been wonderful.”
He smiled back at her, a flash of mischief crossing across his eyes. “I agree. Has anyone told you about Mrs. Mallory’s roast?”
The next hour or so passed in similar fashion, with Andy’s parents introducing her to dozens more couples and associates. The ballroom quickly filled with with conversation and music, her parents having hired a string quartet to further liven the room.
Andy was almost ready to leave her own party as her parents received who she came to know as the Charltons, her parents’ most favorite companions. She had just finished telling Mrs. Charlton about the novels she most enjoyed studying at Vassar when a red-haired young woman walked up beside them.
“Oh, there you are.” Mrs. Charlton placed her hands on the young woman’s shoulders and faced Andy again. “Andrea, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Emily. I believe you two are about the same age.”
The young woman’s mouth turned up into a half-smile. “Hello,” she said.
Andy attempted a warmer smile in return. “Hello! I’m Andrea, but everyone calls me Andy.” Their parents had begun to carry on a different conversation, leaving the two of them off to the side. She glanced down Emily’s figure. “I love your dress. The fit is very flattering.”
That seemed to endear her to the other young woman. “Oh, really? Thank you. It’s straight in from Paris.” Emily’s eyes gleamed as she said the word.
“Paris? It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, well…” Emily trailed off, glancing down Andy’s own dress. “This is chic. What shade of blue is this? It’s not royal or navy.”
Just as Andy was about to express that she wasn’t able to place the shade either, a smooth voice answered from behind her.
“It’s cerulean.”
Andy turned toward the voice and came face to face with a woman with short blonde, almost white hair and perfectly smooth skin. She couldn’t help her eyes from drifting over the woman’s face, her pale complexion impeccable save for a tasteful dash of rouge lining her cheekbones. She looked as if straight out of a painting, almost too breathless to be real. If Andy hadn’t heard the woman speak, she might have thought she’d imagined her.
“Miranda,” Emily’s mother said fondly, cutting through Andy’s silent appraisal. She walked over to greet the woman. “What a pleasure it is to see you.”
Miranda.
Andy watched as the two women air kissed before her eyes drifted over to see her mother’s face. Eleanor Sachs’ expression was that of barely contained reverance, and Andy immediately knew this woman was different from all other guests. She couldn’t have been as old as Andy’s mother, but the small lines around her eyes led Andy to believe that Miranda was likely closer to her mother’s age than her own.
Her mother stepped forward and mimicked the gesture.
“Miranda, I’d like you to meet my daughter.” Andy legs stepped forward involuntarily. “She’s just returned from her studies at Vassar Women’s College.”
Miranda turned her face to look at Andy, her eyes narrowing to match the widening smile tugging at her lips.
“Hello,” Andy said softly. “I’m Andy.”
Miranda’s lips pursed in displeasure - like the shortened name was poison to her ears.
“Andrea,” Eleanor corrected, “but she goes by Andy around friends and family.”
“Andrea…” Miranda repeated, the name rolling off of her tongue like silk. “Yes, I think that’s better. Your parents gave you a wonderful name, Andrea. You should use it.”
All Andy could do was nod. The woman had an air about her, a sort of understood influence. Andy had met her not thirty seconds ago, but she thought better than to protest the instruction.
“Vassar,” Miranda continued. “What did you study there?”
Andy cleared her throat. “Literature, specifically the oppression of female authors and how their works have tragically outlasted their legacies.”
Miranda tilted her head contemplatively. “I see. And what does your husband say of this line of study?”
“I have no husband,” Andy replies solidly. She stepped back, only now noticing Emily had vanished from the circle and her father was occupied with greeting two other men that had just arrived.
“Yet, dear,” her mother added on her behalf. She put her hand on Andy’s arm in reassurance, though Andy felt no need for it.
“Well the season is ripe for such an endeavor,” Mrs. Charlton said eagerly before letting out an exasperated sigh. “I have told my Emily the same, but she does not seem amenable to find a match in the current season."
Then, her face lit up with a sense of enlightenment. “Eleanor,” she said, turning to Andy’s mother. “Perhaps we could entice Ms. Priestly to help in your effort to find Andrea a match.”
Miranda remained silent, her lips beginning a tamer but still distinct purse. Andy opened her mouth to protest, but her mother was quicker.
“Oh, how lovely that would be,” she said in a breath. “Would you consider it, Miranda? We all saw how perfectly you matched Felicity West and James Owen last season. And I, of course, had heard tales of your flawless record before witnessing it myself.”
Miranda glanced at Andy briefly before adjusting the position of her hands across her waist.
“Yes, well it does require particularly willing participants,” she said, and Andy wondered if the woman possessed some sort of mythical ability to decipher others’ thoughts.
Finding a husband was the last thing on her mind. Writing, reading, publishing, learning the trade from her father - these were the tasks she had laid out for herself this summer.
Not minimizing herself to fit into the image of a doting housewife.
No, that didn’t interest her at all.
Yet, she felt two pairs of expectant, eager eyes on her and another pair of assessing ones. This was something her mother clearly wished for, and Andy was too exhausted to smother her dreams only hours after reuniting with her.
“I would certainly entertain your guidance, Ms. Priestly, should you take me on.”
Her eyes met those of the light-haired woman. Piercingly blue. Icy. Fierce. Determined.
Then, she blinked, and her face softened. Sharp and then softened.
A lethal, intoxicating combination.
Andy figured her husband must find immense satisfaction being married to such a woman, and she wondered what sort of a man was able to romance the ethereal being now standing in front of her.
“I’ll take it under consideration,” she said, still searching Andy’s face. Then, she straightened and turned her mouth up into a more polite smile. “If you’ll excuse me ladies, I must make a connection with Mr. Morrison at the far end of the room.” She rolled her eyes in a playful motion. “Business for the Metropolitan.”
Miranda placed a friendly hand on her mother’s arm as she left their company, but Andy’s thoughts trailed after her. She watched as Miranda effortlessly glided across the room, gentlemens’ heads bowing and ladies rushing to make a friendly but brief contact.
Andy couldn’t help but realize that although it was the Sachs’ home and soiree, Miranda Priestly undeniably controlled the room.
She was made to greet a few more guests who straggled into the large room before she was set free to finally find a glass of champagne. She spotted Emily doing the same thing a few paces over, so she walked toward where the red-haired woman stood with a member of the waitstaff. Thankfully, he made eye contact with Andy and waited for her to join them before moving on to the rest of the room.
“Thank you,” she said while taking the slender glass he offered. She turned to Emily. “You disappeared.”
Emily swallowed her first, admittedly long, taste of the champagne and let out a small groan. “Gods, I can not deal with my mother for extended periods of time. Especially at gatherings like this.”
Andy chuckled at the other woman’s dismay as she continued.
“She’s determined to see me married off. The sooner the better. I believe she thinks it to be her life’s sole purpose.”
“She did mention that you weren’t…” Andy tapped her chin in a humorous effort to recollect the exact phrasing, “…amenable to finding a match.” She let out a small chuckle when Emily rolled her eyes.
“Amenable,” she repeated with a scoff. “Certainly not. Have you seen the lot we’ve been dealt?” She gestured vaguely around the room.
Andy could agree that there didn’t seem to be many eligible, attractive-looking bachelors in the room. Perhaps her parents just hadn’t invited enough suitors. Emily might find herself more amenable while at a proper mixer, of which Andy had attended several with male students from the neighboring men’s college.
“Well perhaps we should take a turn around the room,” Andy said with a playful smile. “There could be some gems skulking away in the corners.”
Emily rolled her eyes again but walked alongside her. As they navigated a particularly crowded area, Andy heard Emily huff and then gasp behind her. She turned around to find the other woman’s mouth agape, staring in horror at a fresh tear at the tail of her dress - caused by a young gentleman who seemed equally troubled by what had occurred.
“I apologize Miss,” he started. “I stepped back and had no idea I was stepping on your gown.”
Emily did not seem keen on hearing apologies, her face growing more upset the longer she stared at her now imperfect dress from Paris.
“Come,” Andy said as she took both of Emily’s arms in her hands. “My lady’s maid may be able to repair this.”
“It’s… it’s…” Emily started, walking alongside Andy toward the stairs, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes.
“Let’s not call the mortuary prematurely. I’m sure Serena will have a solution.”
Andy turned to the Butler as she began to lead Emily up the stairs.
“Wesley, please call for Ms. Souza to my room.”
“Right away, Miss Sachs.”
As soon as Andy finally got a tearful Emily into her bedchambers and seated comfortably on the sofa, Serena entered just behind them.
“Miss Sachs, I was summoned urgently.” Her eyes darted to Emily and to the torn piece of her dress she was clutching. “Oh no, Miss. Your dress…”
“Yes,” Andy said. “Emily requires some assistance. I was hoping you might have at least a temporary solution. The dress is very dear to her.”
Serena walked closer and placed her hand gently on top of Emily’s where it lay on the dress.
“This is such an exquisite gown, Miss Charlton. May I see where it has been damaged?”
“It’s from Paris,” Emily said softly.
“I can see,” Serena replied with a soft smile. She leaned back to look at more of the dress as she kneeled in front of Emily. “This is a dress by Jeanne Paquin, is it not?”
“It is,” Emily’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“I have followed her work for a few years. She makes such beautiful gowns, much like the one you are wearing.”
Serena pointed out more of the unique details specific to the designer and Emily’s face slowly transformed from a look of defeat to something significantly more amiable. Andy watched as their eyes repeatedly met, and it suddenly felt like she was an outsider in this lovely bubble of warmth and comfort in which Emily and Serena seemingly found themselves.
As Serena started weaving an intricate sewing pattern to attempt to subtly reattach the fabric, Andy looked toward the door. She wondered if her parents were looking for her downstairs. Or worse, how many potential suitors her mother and Mrs. Charlton were rounding up in her absence.
“Are you alright, Emily? I might rejoin the party downstairs.”
Emily looked up at her and smiled from her seat. “Oh yes. I believe I am in quite good hands here.”
She saw Serena’s mouth tilt up into a smile even as her eyes remained trained on the fabric in front of her.
“Very well,” Andy said, turning and walking out of her room.
When she made it back to the ground floor, she found the party to be proceeding well enough without her presence.
Andy realized that she did not know any other same-aged attendees well enough outside of Emily, and she determined that she might not wish to. After ensuring her parents were both distracted, she stopped by a waiter to obtain a fresh beverage and slyly walked outside onto the rear terrace. There were a few men smoking in the corner and a cluster of women having an involved chat in another. She walked over to a secluded part of the outdoor space and leaned her back up against the wall. The outward view was somewhat intriguing, for the rear of the residence faced ongoing developments in the neighborhood.
Andy was distractedly admiring the construction on a building when she heard light footsteps approach from her left side. She looked over to see none other than Miranda Priestly slowly coming into her space. The older woman tilted her head curiously and smiled softly as they made eye contact.
“I’m sure you are aware that it is not exactly proper to go missing from your own gathering.”
Andy smiled and turned her head back toward the view.
“I hardly believe this is my gathering.”
“Your parents organized it in your honor, so I do believe that involves you." She paused for a moment before adding, “I daresay it may be reasonably difficult to find you a match if you choose to avoid speaking with other people.”
Andy looked down at her shoes and chuckled. “Then I should count myself fortunate if you decide to come to my aid.” She looked up at Miranda and smiled. “It seems I may be hopeless if you do not.”
The older woman assessed her for a few long moments, her expression showed hints of curiosity but Andy largely remained unaware of what she was truly thinking.
Finally, Miranda seemed to decide on something. She straightened and smoothed out non-existent wrinkles at the front of her gown.
“You’ll come to a social mixer tomorrow evening at my home. I’ll send you a card in the morning with the details.”
Andy stood up from her leaned position against the wall.
“So then you agree,” Andy started, unsure if she was disappointed or relieved, “to find me a match?”
“I will put my best effort toward it.” She took a step closer. “But Andrea, I will not help you if you appear to sabotage that effort. You must trust me and let me guide you. I will not set a disadvantageous match in your path. I will use every resource in my disposal to match you with regard to your station… and your intellect.”
Andy couldn’t help but hang on to the last words Miranda said. Not only would Miranda try to find a suitable husband for her, she would try to find someone who matched her intellect. Someone who shared in her desire to explore and learn. Someone who would not hinder her in a world that seemed determined to make women less-than.
The idea of that was something she would certainly entertain.
Andy swallowed. “I would be very much indebted to you, should you find such a man.”
Miranda’s eyes narrowed despite her small smile.
“You don’t sound entirely convinced that it can be done.”
Andy let out a small laugh. “I am known to my friends as a particular person. But if anyone is up for the task, I have a growing feeling that it would be you.”
The older woman’s smile widened. She stepped closer to Andy, sharing more space than they had for the entirety of the evening. Close enough for Andy to see the intricate patterns in the fabric at her shoulder. Close enough to smell the dainty perfume Andy imagined she must have dabbed along her pulse points prior to coming here tonight.
All at once, Andy felt herself succumb to the charm of one Miranda Priestly. Like the woman in front of her was a swirling storm and Andy couldn’t help but be sucked right in.
“I rarely fail at endeavors I deem worth my effort,” the older woman said in a low voice. “I will find you a match, Andrea Sachs. After all, it seems my reputation rather depends on it.”
And with that, Miranda turned and slowly walked back inside. Andy watched her go, yet again, unable to tear her eyes away from the increasingly mysterious woman until she rounded the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did she realize the pace at which her heart had been beating, the heaviness of the rising and falling of her chest. She brought a hand up to rest against her cheek and found it warm, just as she feared.
Andy rejoined the party after the few moments she took to level her temperament after such an interaction. Emily came back down and looked remarkably more cheerful, giggling into a new champagne glass and filling Andy in on some of the gossip pertaining to other guests. However much she enjoyed having her new friend by her side for the rest of the evening, her eyes couldn’t help but find Ms. Priestly - charming the entire room all while notably not on the arm of her husband (or without even a mention of the man at all). While Andy certainly didn’t crave a similar social responsibility, she admired Miranda’s independence - her ability to exist outside the context of her household. What qualifications did she have for such confidence? And from where did she gain such an air of influence?
Who on Earth is this woman?
Slowly but surely, the guests Andy had spent most of the night avoiding left their family’s residence in numerous carriages. After bidding her parents goodnight, she slowly trodded up the stairs to her bedchambers. She found Serena already in the room, busy laying out nightclothes on the bed and tidying up the rest of the room.
“Miss S-… Andy,” she said, looking up. “Would you like help changing out of your gown?”
“Yes, please,” Andy said with a loud sigh. She was absolutely exhausted. Serena strode forward at once, her hands immediately flying to the back of Andy’s dress to start drawing down the zipper.
“Thank you for helping Emily earlier. She was so upset about her gown.”
She turned around as Serena helped her step out of the dress and found her smiling.
“It was my pleasure, Miss. Her dress was exquisite. I have never seen a gown from that designer in person.”
“Well the repair you made was quite impressive. Have you a desire to be a seamstress?”
Serena shook her head. “Not currently, Miss. I enjoy working in your family’s house.”
Andy absentmindedly slipped the nightgown over her head on her own, not having been used to being tended to when changing. She winced and looked back at Serena, expecting a look of surprise or disappointment. Instead, the lady’s maid took it in stride, already busying herself with other tasks in the room. Andy walked over to the vanity chair, the same one she’d sat in not hours ago to get ready for this whole ordeal, and began to take the pins out of her own hair.
Serena quickly joined her and Andy acquiesced, dropping her hands down to her lap. She could admit that this part felt exceedingly comforting; she’d always liked having her hair tended to or caressed. Her mother had once told her that she used to run her fingers through Andy’s hair to help her fall asleep as a child.
“Serena,” she said softly as the lady’s maid took down the last pin in her hair.
“Yes, Miss Andy?”
Andy smiled at Serena’s growing ease in using her first name. It was sure to make them both more comfortable in this dynamic. Andy mostly needed a friend, not just a cold attendee.
She mustered up all of the nonchalance she could manage before asking her question.
“What do you know of Miranda Priestly?”
Serena didn’t appear phased at her question, only picking up the brush and beginning to run it through Andy’s hair.
“She is well-known and very well-liked in the city. Perfectly stylish and I have heard she hosts well-attended parties. I believe she runs the board at the Metropolitan Museum of the Arts, but she is involved in numerous charities.”
“Yes,” Andy replied. “She invited me to a mixer at her house tomorrow and I believe my mother has convinced her to help me find a husband.”
Serena chuckled and smiled wide. “Oh yes, she is known amongst the high society circles to be a gifted matchmaker.”
“What is her husband like?”
Serena made eye contact with Andy in the mirror. “Ms. Priestly has no husband, Miss.”
Andy’s eyes widened at the revelation.
“Is she a widow?”
“No,” Serena said as she shook her head. “She has never been married.”
Andy felt stunned, pinned to her chair.
“Well if she can not find a love match for herself, how does she suppose she should be trusted to do so for anyone else?”
“Oh there have been plenty of suitors for Ms. Priestly.” Serena set down the brush and leaned in with a lower voice. “I have heard that she simply turned down every proposal.”
Andy felt her cheeks flush for a second time that evening at the hands of Miranda Priestly, this time without even being in her presence. A matchmaker with no intention of ever having a husband herself? The notion of a woman existing in modern society without a husband was unheard of. And nothing about the way Miranda Priestly carried herself suggested she was simply existing; no, she was thriving.
As Andy climbed into bed, Serena having long departed for the servants’ quarters downstairs, her mind drifted again to the evening and its events.
Within a matter of four hours, she’d met countless new persons, including who she hoped to be a new friend in Emily. She’d met a woman who decided to take Andy’s domestic fate into her own hands. And she’d also, unfortunately, been instructed to attend another social gathering the following evening.
A whirlwind of a party, to be sure. She felt herself longing for the quiet nights spent at Vassar, her eyes fixed in a novel, no worries of high society or gowns or finding a love match.
She closed her eyes and saw a sea of the eyes she’d shared a moment with that evening, but none coming through clearer, or with more persistence, than a certain set of icy, blue ones.