Dani hadn’t been listening but now she looked up.
“I went three nights without sleep to sew this gown,” declared Miriam, “it’s finished now and Dani’s wearing it, isn’t she? It wants for nothing. Not from London or anywhere else. There will be time for gifts after the wedding.”
Miriam gave a yank to the skirts and Dani reached a hand to the wall for steadiness. A cat had followed Miriam to the church, and now it slunk a tight figure eight between them. The fatigue of preparing for this day was colliding with nervousness about being married; Dani felt woozy but also tense. And hopeful. She was so very hopeful about the wedding, and Eastwell Park, and Captain Bannock.
She stood in a shaft of sunlight beneath a high window so Miriam could examine the stitching on the hem of her gown. Miriam was correct, the wedding dress had turned out beautifully. Miriam had sewn it herself but spared no expense on fabric or petticoats. The fabric was silk, a weave so fine it flowed down her body like liquid. The color was unique; too muted to be purple, too cool to be taupe. The singular, distinctive color of an antique rose. The skirts tumbled to the floor in a thousand gathers, with tiny translucent crystals sewn to the ribbon above her waist, at her neckline, and on her sleeves. Cat hair clung to the fabric, and this was, perhaps, Dani’s favorite detail. Miriam had outdone herself, and for the first time, Dani really did feel like a princess.
Knock, knock, knock.The door rattled again. Amelia made a delighted squeak and leaned against it. “Another moment, please,” she sang. To Miriam, she said, “I don’t think he can be dissuaded, Mrs. Dinwiddie.” More knocking. “With all due respect, Dani is a princess now, and I think—”
“I don’t care if Dani is Queen Charlotte,” harrumphed Miriam, shoving up, “a woman I’ve known personally in this life, I’ll remind you—and Her Majesty would agree—gentlemen are not welcome in this—”
“Ask him if he might pass the package through a crack in the door, Amelia?” Dani suggested. “Then we shall have the gift without actually seeing the viscount.”
Amelia frowned. “But he will—”
“Just ask, will you, Amelia?”
“Right,” her friend said, bobbing a small curtsy. The curtsies had begun as soon as Amelia learned that Dani was a French princess, and no entreaty would cause her to stop.
“You are perfectly turned out,” Miriam was grumbling. “Nothing has been overlooked. It’s rude, honestly, to presume a bride might require—”
“Here it is,” announced Amelia, turning from the door with a polished wooden box.
“And what is that, I ask?” Miriam complained. “Shoes, is it? I’ll not have this gown covered by a gilet or cape, I don’t care if it has been sent from London. The finished gown speaks for itself, Dani. Layering will only complicate the design. And how would the fabrics match? They would not match, that’s how.”
Dani ignored her, staring at the box. It was large but apparently light, as Amelia held it like she intended to slide it onto a high shelf.
The crown, Dani thought. Bannock hadn’t made it up. Dani had seen the captain for only minutes at a time since their encounter in the parish house, and never alone. Planning a wedding in five days, even a small one, involved a marathon of cleaning and cooking and organizing. All the while, Dani had hired twenty-five servants to staff Eastwell Park and the captain brought on a dozen workmen for the parish hall. Miriam had hired three seamstresses to sew wedding finery. The crown had been the last thing on Dani’s mind.
“Set itdown, Amelia Broom,” Miriam was scolding. “You’re bound to drop it on Dani’s head—or mine, more like.”
“But can you open it, Amelia?” Dani asked, tightening her gloves.
“Me? I couldn’t, Dani. ’Tis your gift,” her friend said.
“My fingers are stiff in the gloves,” Dani lied. She could see Miriam’s discomfort with the gift. “You do it.”
“Alright, if you insist,” said Amelia. She lowered the box to a tabletop, lifted her hands like she was casting a spell, and raised the lid. She bent over her task, effectively blocking Dani’s view with her hat. Dani stooped, trying to see. Amelia let out a reverent intake of breath and clasped her hands together.
“What is it?” Miriam demanded, trying to keep the annoyance from her voice.
“It’s a tiara,”whispered Amelia. “A crown. Fit for a princess. A jewel-encrusted crown.”
When Amelia finally stepped away, Dani caught her first glimpse. She saw satin packing, silver spines, winking stones. Amelia moved away from the window and a beam of sunlight hit the box. The object insideshone. The geometrical headpiece wasn’t large, not overdone; it was a small, tight arc with hundreds of jewels. Dani saw garnets, pink quartz, sapphires, and pearls. It was understated and luxurious at once; it neither overpowered nor could it be overlooked. It took Dani’s breath away.
Meanwhile, Amelia gasped and panted like she was about to dive into a cold lake. Dani ignored her, leaning in to study the piece more closely. Amelia began to hop. Dani tried to laugh, but she was so arrested by the beauty of the crown, her breath came out in a puff. Meanwhile, Miriam leaned in.
“Well, I’ve never...” Miriam whispered.
“Can you believe it?” Dani whispered back.
Behind them, Amelia was saying, “Put it on, put it on, put it on. Now you’re a proper princess—put it on.”
Dani looked to Miriam. “Can you help me?”
“Must I fight Amelia Broom for the honor?”
“Oh no,” assured Dani. “I want... I want my mother to do it.”
