***
The morning of the wedding dawned bright.
Helena was already in the room, laying out the ivory gown, the shoes, the ribboned gloves. The pearls waited on the dressing table. A tray of tea and toast stood by the window, though Cecilia’s stomach was too taut for food.
“Good morning,” Helena said warmly. “How did you sleep?”
“Badly. I dreamt I tripped, or forgot my vows, or addressed Sebastian by the wrong name.”
“Entirely ordinary anxieties.” Helena pressed a teacup into her hands. “Drink. It will steady you.”
The tea was hot and sweet. Cecilia drank, watching Helena move with calm, capable precision.
“Are you nervous about your own wedding?” Cecilia asked.
“Terrified—and very happy.” Helena smiled. “After all this time, a little more waiting hardly signifies.”
“You will make a beautiful bride.”
“As will you.” Helena paused, her expression softening. “Miss Ashwood—Cecilia—it has been an honour to assist you. To see you step into yourself.”
“I could not have done it without you.”
“You would have found a way.” Helena’s voice was gentle but firm. “But I am glad I was permitted to help—and glad that we are friends.”
“So am I.” Cecilia embraced her briefly. “Thank you—for everything.”
“Then let us begin.”
***
The preparations took time—rose-scented bath, careful arrangement of hair, the lightest touch of powder. And at last, the dress.
Helena fastened the final buttons. The ivory silk caught the light; Cecilia scarcely recognised the poised young woman in the mirror.
A bride. A duchess.
“One more thing,” Helena said, lifting the pearls. “May I?”
Cecilia nodded. The pearls settled against her skin—warm, familiar, beloved.
“Perfect,” Helena said softly. “You are ready.”
“I do not feel ready.”
“No one ever does. But you look so—and that will suffice.”
A knock sounded. The Dowager entered, dignified in deep purple silk.
“The carriage waits,” she said—then, after a pause, “You look lovely, my dear.”
The words, simple though they were, drew unexpected tears.
“Thank you… Your Grace.”
Something in the Dowager’s expression gentled.
“Come,” she said. “My son is waiting. Let us not keep him in suspense.”
