She and George became like ships passing in the night, spending rare moments of affection throughout the planning as they worked hard to see their perfect day executed.
The morning of the wedding saw a bustle of activity at Fernworth that Cecelia had never experienced before. And every servant she passed stopped to congratulate her on her special day.
When she found herself standing before the mirror in her bedroom, wearing the silk wedding gown her mother had worn at her own ceremony, she couldn't quite believe it.
The gown had been adjusted here and there to fit her petite yet curvaceous frame, and as she turned this way and that to admire the handiwork of the seamstress, she couldn't help feeling as if she had never looked more put together.
Her mother, she was certain, would be proud of all the fine details she had seen to in making her look perfect.
“I have them!”
Mary swept into the room in such a flurry that it took Cecelia a moment to realize what she was talking about. In her arms, she held a basket of orange blossom flowers, their vibrant colour the perfect shade of ivory, white with just an undertone of orange.
“Finally! We can add the finishing touches to your hair!” Catherine exclaimed, and before Cecelia could say a word, her little sister grabbed her by the hand and encouraged her to the stool before her vanity table.
She was urged down into the seat, and before she knew it, Mary and Catherine were diligently weaving the orange blossoms into the updo that her maid had spent almost two hours creating.
“When we're finished with you, you're going to look like one of those fairy princesses in Mary's favourite story books,” Catherine insisted, her concentration causing an almosthilarious expression upon her face, the tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth between her white teeth.
Cecelia laughed at her words, perhaps because it was the closest to a princess she had ever felt.
All morning, people had been bending over backwards to ensure she had everything she needed. People had been in and out of her room like a revolving carousel of maids, housekeeper, and butler, all bringing her something, whether it was her dress, her jewellery, her accessories, her shoes, or even news of how the plans were forming.
Even responses to her invitations were still coming in, and to her relief, it seemed everyone would be there for their special moment.
Enjoying the sensation of her sisters playing with her hair, feeling a mixture of happiness and sadness as she imagined this being the last time they were ever like this together, she looked in the mirror and reached up her hand to her chest.
The heart pendant that had sat there ever since George returned it to her – save for the few days she had spent without it due to its being sent off to be polished – shone radiantly, almost pulsating with the affectionate energy that George had placed upon it the moment he had placed it around her neck.
A tear sprang to her eye as she once more remembered the moment when he had returned it to her, the moments that followed, his proposing and her acceptance.
And she discreetly pinched herself again, hiding her little whimper of pain when she realized once more that she was not in fact dreaming.
“How do you feel?” Mary asked, pausing to lay a hand upon Cecelia's shoulder as if she had noticed the tear.
Cecelia laid her hand on her sister's and squeezed her fingers affectionately.
“Catherine is right,” she answered, smiling at her in the mirror, “I feel as if I am in one of your fairy tales.”
Mary smiled brighter than Cecelia had ever seen, and she was surprised when she wrapped her arms around her from behind, giving her such a squeeze that it knocked the breath right out of her. “I'm ever so happy for you.”
“You're just happy for yourself,” Cecelia countered playfully. “Once this is all over, everybody will start looking to you and Walter.”
At that, her sister blushed tomato red.
“That is, if Mama approves,” Mary said, her face reddening further.
“What am I to approve of?”
The authoritative tone of their mother in the doorway caused all three of the sisters to jump.
“Nothing,” Mary insisted even as Cecelia answered, “We were just talking about the next wedding on the horizon.”
“Let us get through this one first!” her mother insisted, though she did look to Mary with affection as if she knew exactly what wedding they were discussing.
It had been no secret in the family that Mary and Walter were growing closer and closer by the day, and Cecelia was almost as excited for them as she was for herself and George.
“Yes, Mama,” Mary said, dipping a curtsey as she stepped out of the way to show Cecelia, “how does she look?”
