Belinda Murrell: Bringing Australian History To Life | Page 53

EXTRACT

My nightgown is new, and it is much
prettier than the sack I had to wear at
the convent. All my new clothes are the
very latest fashion, from one of the top
dressmakers in Paris. I had to have new
clothes so the Chevalier would want to
marry me, you see.’
Tilly snorted in disgust, scowling at the
memory of the elderly Chevalier mincing
on his high heels. ‘I can’t imagine why
you would marry that horrible man.
He must be old enough to be your
grandfather.’

Amelie laughed
again. Tilly bristled
with anger, then
she imagined
seeing her pyjamas
and rainbow socks
through Amelie’s
eighteenth-century
eyes. She smiled
ruefully.
‘I guess I’m not
much of a prince
in shining armour,’

‘Last night, I fell asleep wishing with all my
heart that someone would come along and
rescue me from this despicable marriage.
I was imagining a prince in silver armour on
a milk-white steed, not a scruffy urchin in
pink breeches.’
Amelie sighed, nodding sadly. ‘Oui.
But you see, I must. He is very rich. If I do
not marry him, I will be destitute. And my
uncle is in terrible debt, so it is up to me
to save the family name and fortune.’
‘What rubbish,’ announced Tilly crisply.
‘That’s no reason to marry anyone,
especially a horrible old man. What about
love and respect and having things
in common? You can’t possibly marry
someone just because he’s rich and your
uncle tells you to. It’s criminal.’
Amelie looked thoughtful, twisting the
ruby pendant in her fingers.
‘You know, ’tis strange,’ mused
Amelie. ‘Last night, I fell asleep wishing
with all my heart that someone would
come along and rescue me from this
despicable marriage. I was imagining
a prince in silver armour on a milkwhite steed, not a scruffy urchin in pink
breech