At her mother's gasp, Cecelia couldn't help cringing. After so many years of being carefully dissected by her mother's scrutiny,she tried her hardest to ready herself for whatever comment was about to come.
“Oh, Cecelia, my darling girl,” her mother said in a tone Cecelia had never heard before. “I don't think you have ever looked more beautiful.”
The tears she had barely been holding onto started to stream down her face. “I don't think I have ever felt more beautiful,” she admitted, feeling for the first time as if she had finally passed muster.
Catherine, having finally placed the final orange blossom in Cecelia's hair, stepped back to admire her handiwork.
“There,” she said, “perfect, positively perfect.”
Her mother crossed the room, watching her in the mirror as she said, “Don't cry, dear. You shall ruin your face.”
Cecelia couldn't help smiling, for that was the mother she knew, always determined for them to have a stiff upper lip.
With her hands on Cecelia's shoulders, she looked at her through the mirror as she asked, “Are you certain you won't wear the family diamonds?”
Cecelia considered the question for a moment, her hand travelling back to her pendant.
Unable to speak, she shook her head. “I promise I shall wear them at the first ball we attend once we are married.”
That seemed to placate her mother, who nodded.
“Are you prepared?” she asked, squeezing her shoulders.
Cecelia breathed deeply. “I think perhaps as ready as I shall ever be.”
Her mother offered her kindest smile then, and assured her, “All will be well.”
Cecelia returned her mother's smile.
It was then that a gentle knock sounded upon the open door of her bedroom.
They all turned expectantly, each one ready to handle whatever came next.
“My Lady,” the butler said, bowing his head as he stood in the doorway, “your uncle has arrived.”
Cecelia looked to her mother, whose eyes widened a little at the mention of her brother.
“I truly did not believe he would come,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
Cecelia reached up a hand to where her mother sat at her shoulder.
They had not seen their uncle in some years, his travelling for business taking him well away from England for long periods.
But he had been a solid part of Cecelia's childhood, visiting every summer with gifts and tales of his travels, and since her father was not there to see her wed, she had written to him in the hopes that he might be the one to walk her down the aisle.
“Do you think that means—” she said, unable to finish for fear of the answer.
Her mother's lips pursed on a happy smile as she met Cecelia’s eye in the mirror and nodded. “I received his response a few days ago,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders when Cecelia'smouth fell open. “I wished for it to be a surprise on your wedding day.”
At that moment, Cecelia felt as if everything was finally falling into place. All of the careful planning they had spent hours and hours upon over the last several weeks had all come down to this day.
“That is probably our sign that it is time to make our way to the chapel,” her mother said, squeezing Cecelia, who nodded.
Her mother stepped away then and gave a gesture that told them all to stand before her. “Let me look at all of my girls.”
Cecelia was almost certain she could see tears in her mother's eyes as she stood with her sisters on either side of her, their gowns similar shades of palest orange.
The scrutinizing look on her face made Cecelia certain her mother was about to have something to say.
