Cecilia’s brows lifted. “I take it you’re not very fond of your betrothed.”
“He’s always so…proper. Cold,” she explained. “He barely speaks unless he must, and when he does, it’s like he’s reciting lines from a book.”
Cecilia scoffed. “That is not necessarily a bad thing.”
“I know,” she mumbled. “He has been married before, you know. But sadly, his wife died a few years ago.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“It is,” she said and then stepped back, assessing the dress on Cecilia. “I knew it. You look absolutely stunning. The blue almost matches the blue of your eyes.”
Cecilia gave a modest huff of laughter and turned slowly toward the mirror. She tilted her head and nodded. “It is beautiful. I can’t wait to wear it out tomorrow.”
Before Lucy could respond, a knock sounded at the door.
“Girls?” came Emma’s familiar voice. “It’s time to come down. The guests are seated.”
“Coming!” They both chorused.
Cecilia turned sharply toward Lucy, eyes wide. “I need to change back.” She was already moving toward the screen, reaching behind to fumble at the buttons of the gown. “Help me, please.”
Lucy giggled and hurried to her, grabbing the old gown on the bed before following Cecilia behind the screen.
“Hurry, before your mother comes up and finds me in my petticoats,” Cecilia whispered.
Lucy giggled. “You make it sound like she might combust.”
“She might.”
“Fair enough.”
Once Cecilia was back in her original gown and smoothing down the creases, they made their way downstairs. Laughter and polite chatter floated through the air as family and friends settled into their places around the long, polished table.
Cecilia’s eyes swept the room almost instinctively, searching for the one face that was still missing. The groom. She spotted theempty chair beside Lucy’s reserved place and figured that he had not come down yet.
Was he still in the study, scribbling letters to this mysterious Abigail?
As Cecilia eased into her chair, a sudden, sharp sound pierced through the low murmur of conversation. It was an undeniable loud rip. Her heart jolted. She froze, fingers clutching the edge of the table, as her eyes darted downward. To her horror, the seam near the side of her gown had given way, and the fabric had come apart just enough to reveal the pale lining beneath.
“Oh, no, this cannot be happening,” she whispered to herself.
Among the guests were not only her immediate family and Aunt Marianne but also distant relatives whose judgments were always sharper than daggers. Cecilia’s cheeks flamed with heat as panic threatened to rise.
“What is it?” someone whispered from behind her.
Startled, Cecilia turned slightly to find Lucy standing just behind her. She hadn’t noticed that Lucy hadn’t taken her seat at the table either.
“It’s… my dress,” Cecilia whispered back. “I’ve torn the seam. It’s ruined. I cannot sit like this.”
Without hesitation, Lucy reached out, gently touching Cecilia’s arm. “Come with me,” she said quietly. “I’ll help you slip out of the dining room without anyone noticing.”
They exchanged a quick, conspiratorial glance before slipping out from the table, carefully avoiding the direct gaze of Aunt Marianne, who remained engrossed in conversation across the room. The pair moved swiftly towards the corridors, and Lucy made sure to block Cecilia with her body as they moved out of the room.
“Your room is just upstairs,” Lucy said when they reached the corridor. “Third door on the left. Your bags should be there inside. Change there, into the dress you planned to wear tomorrow, it’s safer than trying to fix that tear now. Then, you can wear the new gown I bought you for the wedding itself.”
Cecilia sighed in relief. “That sounds like a perfect plan.”
Lucy smiled softly. “I’ll make sure no one notices your absence at the table. Remember the third door to your left.”
