Their door, it would be after this. Jake had been sleeping on a pallet bed in Captain Harroway’s dressing room, but when they came home from their wedding cottage, they would share Kat’s room. Captain Harroway had the village carpenter making them a larger bed, for the current one wasn’t big enough for two.
The bath was waiting in Mrs. Harraway’s dressing room, and Mrs. Harraway even gave her a block of scented soap with which to wash herself!
Mrs. Harraway, Mrs. Kirby, and Mrs. Martin were waiting in the bedchamber when she emerged. All she was wearing were the stays and petticoat that Mrs. Martin had made for her.
“You cannot look at yourself in the mirror until we have finished,” Mrs. Harraway decreed, beckoning her to a chair in the middle of the room. For the next forty-five minutes, Kat placed herself completely in their hands, reassuring herself that two of the three were people she trusted.
Even so, it went against the grain to be treated like a doll, as they brushed and combed her hair, and did who knew what else with it—but it took a long time and involved clips and ribbons. Then Mrs. Harraway knelt at her feet to help her put on a pair of new stockings. “A gift from me,” said Mrs. Kirby.
Mrs. Martin handed Mrs. Harraway a pair of garters to tie just below the knee, each a confection of ribbons and silk flowers. “A gift from me,” said Mrs. Martin.
“Now the gown,” Mrs. Harraway said. “Put your hands in the air, Kat, and hold still. We’ll guide it over your hair.”
Kat had been involved in deciding on the fabric and the pattern of the gown, and had—of course—been present for fittings. But she hadnot seen the finished garment. She only knew that she had never worn anything so grand.
She stood when told, so her attendants could fasten the laces and buttons.
Then Mrs. Harraway knelt again, to fit a pair of slippers to her feet. “There,” she said. “Do you want to look into the mirror, Kat, before you put on your gloves, pelisse and bonnet?”
“She does not have Mr. Flynn’s present yet,” Mrs. Kirby pointed out, and Mrs. Harraway exclaimed, “Oh, I quite forgot. Sit down again, Kat, and I shall put it on you.”
It was a necklace. Kat had enough of a glimpse as Mrs. Harraway took it from its box to guess at that, and besides, Mrs. Harraway immediately fastened it around her neck. “Now, Kat, come and see.”
Kat’s mistress and friend sounded as excited to see Kat’s reaction as Kat was to see what these dear women had made of her. Mrs. Kirby stood one side of the mirror and Mrs. Martin the other, and Mrs. Harraway led Kat to view her reflection.
Oh my. Is that me?Kat examined the pretty lady in the mirror, wondering at the magic that had been wrought to her appearance.
She focused on the necklace at her throat first. It comprised a row of medallions with rolled gold petals around blue stone centers. Each medallion was joined to the next with gold beads and two leaf-shaped clear gems, and the larger central medallion had a drop-shaped stone hanging from it that nestled just above the bodice hem of her gown.
The gown was a triumph. It was not silk—Kat had vetoed such an expense. But it looked enough like it to fool the eye, if not the touch. The subtle stripe woven into the fabric had been made a feature of the skirt, with the fabric cut on the bias so that the stripes met down the seams in a chevron pattern. Small, puffed sleeves were trimmed each with a flounce of white lace, and the rows of tucks across the hem also ended in a flounce of lace.
Her mop of hair had been tamed into curls, with ribbonsthreaded through them and enameled clips gleaming among them.
And the slippers that peeked out from under the hem of her gown had been made from the same fabric as the gown and trimmed with the ribbon that was wound into her curls.
“No one would think me a man now,” she commented.
“Indeed not,” said Mrs. Harraway. “Darling Kat, you look beautiful.”
“You are a glorious bride, Katherine Fivepence,” said Mrs. Kirby.
“You do the gown credit, Miss Fivepence,” was Mrs. Martin’s comment. “Mr. Flynn shall be bowled over.”
And, indeed, he was, judging by the way his eyes widened and then heated when she came down the aisle on Mrs. Harraway’s arm.
The service was perfect, even if the vicar did look alarmed when Mrs. Harraway answered, “I do”, to the question about “who giveth this women.” Poor man. It was probably against another of his rules, but he didn’t stop the ceremony, so perhaps it was just a habit. And after all, who in the world had a better right than her own dear Miss Ellen, as she had been.
After that, it was merely a matter of enduring the breakfast, and everyone’s congratulations, until at last, Mrs. Harraway tapped her on the arm and said, “Flynn, I wish to borrow Mrs. Flynn for a moment. Excuse us everyone.”
She grabbed Kat by the arm and led her out of the room.
“What do you need, Mrs. Harraway?” Kat asked.
“The point is what doyouneed, Kat,” said the lady. “You have been looking for this age as if you want to escape. Phil is going to extract your husband from the room, so that the pair of you can slip out the side door. I shall give you fifteen minutes, and then I shall tell everyone that you’ve gone, and are not to be disturbed for at least forty-eight hours.”
Then she hugged Kat, and Kat was so surprised that she hugged Mrs. Harraway back, though it was probably some sort of crime for aservant like Kat to hug the Lady of Carr Abbas.
“Thank you for everything, darling Kat,” said Mrs. Harraway. “You have been my one true friend since I was a child, and you brought me safely out of my sister’s grasp and found me a husband in a million. If I live to be one hundred, I shall never forget what I owe you. I wish you and Flynn as much happiness as you have found for me.”
