Wildthorn

I told myself it was only that she was seeing me with an artist's eye.

 

We were in the conservatory, my favourite place at Carr Head, apart from the library. It was peaceful to sit with Grace amongst the ferns, breathing in the scent of the camellias and hearing the musical splash of water from the dolphin fountain.

 

Grace broke the silence. "I expect you're sorry we dragged you away from your studies. All this must be an awful bore for you."

 

"No, I'm glad you asked me."

 

This was only partly true. The thought of being a bridesmaid at Grace's wedding alarmed me, but I was very happy to see my cousin again.

 

Now that I was old enough to come on my own, I tried to visit at least twice a year. On this occasion, discussions, decisions, preparations for the wedding had occupied nearly every minute since I'd arrived. I missed the evenings we usually had, when Grace played the piano and sang, her light, melodious voice sending shivers down my spine. But there were moments like this when Grace and I were alone together, and then I was truly glad I'd come.

 

"Finished! You can move now."

 

I jumped up and went to look over her shoulder, smelling the soft fragrance of her lily-of-the-valley perfume.

 

"What do you think?" Grace turned her head to look up at me. I focused on the sketch. A serious girl with a determined chin and intense eyes stared out at me, but Grace had made my nose look smaller than it really was.

 

I was distracted by Grace's hand, holding the drawing: on the inside of her wrist, a tracery of blue veins showed through the delicate skin.

 

With a start I realised she was still waiting for my answer.

 

"That doesn't look like me. Too flattering."

 

"I don't think so."

 

Her steady regard embarrassed me. I poked the drawing. "My nose is bigger than that, and that noble brow you've given me—that's not accurate."

 

Grace smiled. "Maybe I've exaggerated a bit. Artistic license or ineptitude—I'm not sure which."

 

"Not ineptitude. Look at the way you've done the wickerwork of the chair. I hope Charles appreciates you."

 

I was only half-joking. I hadn't met Grace's fiancé yet, but I'd already decided he couldn't possibly be good enough for her.

 

Grace blushed. "Oh yes. Charles is well aware of what an accomplished wife he'll have." A faraway look came into her eyes. "Dear Charles..."

 

Something seemed to flip over behind my rib cage.

 

The parlour maid appeared. "Mrs. Hiddlestone is here, Miss Illingworth."

 

"Thank you, Susan. Does my sister know?"

 

"She's already in the sewing room, Miss." Susan went out.

 

Grace stood up, making a rueful face at me. "More fussing. Can you bear it?"

 

I wasn't going to let Grace know what I really felt. "Of course."

 

"Thank you. You're a love." And she reached up and kissed my cheek. She'd kissed me many times, but, for some reason, today I felt a sudden heat spread over my face.

 

Luckily Grace was already on her way out of the room.

 

***

 

We found Maud, encased in pink and white satin, looking ecstatic. Aunt Phyllis was watching her younger daughter with a critical frown, while Mrs. Hiddlestone, her mouth full of pins, knelt at Maud's feet.

 

As soon as she saw us, Maud crowed, "Look at me. Isn't this heavenly? Put yours on, Louisa."

 

Aunt Phyllis hushed her. "Keep still, darling, or you'll have a crooked hem."

 

Mrs. Hiddlestone spat the pins into her palm. "Aye, Mrs. Illingworth, you're right there. You don't want to look like a merry-go-round, Miss Maud."

 

Maud dissolved into giggles.

 

Aunt Phyllis looked at us in mock despair. "Will you try yours on? Give this child a chance to calm down."

 

Maud pouted. "No, finish me first. I'll keep still."

 

She posed like a memorial sculpture causing Mrs. Hiddlestone to shake her head. "Eeh, Miss Maud, you're a mischief." But she resumed her pinning, while Aunt Phyllis helped us into our dresses.

 

I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror. I was transformed into Maud's twin, albeit taller and gawkier. A crow dressed as a bonbon.

 

I looked away, looked at Grace.

 

Her bright face, emerging from a cloud of white satin and floating feathers, was like a flower on her slender neck. And again I had the peculiar flipping sensation...

 

Maud clapped her hands. Aunt Phyllis regarded her elder daughter with an expression of fond pride. Even Mrs. Hiddlestone paused in her work. Folding her arms across her broad chest, she surveyed Grace, before pronouncing, "Aye, I reckon you'll do, lass." Then she looked at me. "Now then, Miss, your turn next?"

 

Thinking she meant a wedding, I felt my face go red. Aunt Phyllis must have guessed my thought for she said, "Why, Lou, have you a secret sweetheart?"

 

Everyone laughed and Mrs. Hiddlestone waved her pincushion at me.

 

I realised my mistake. She only meant it was my turn to have my dress hemmed.

 

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