"My sister is to be married," Rosaline announced proudly, resting a hand upon Seraphine's shoulder.
The young woman gasped with delight. "Then congratulations are certainly in order."
"We require a wedding gown, traveling dresses, morning gowns, evening gowns, pelisses, gloves, slippers, bonnets and everything else the future Duchess of Wexford could possibly require."
The assistant’s eyes grew wide.
Seraphine looked horrified. "Rosaline."
"What?"
"I do not need all of those," Seraphine said.
Rosaline smiled sweetly. "Fortunately, your opinion carries very little weight today. And the wedding is in two days so we will require a gown that is already made that we could possibly embellish."
The assistant smiled, leading them towards an enormous mirror surrounded by softly glowing candles. Before long, bolts of fabrics, embroidered lace and delicate gauze had accumulated around Seraphine until she resembled the centerpiece of a particularly extravagant fabric exhibition.
For hours she endured fittings, measurements and endless discussions regarding sleeves, hems, embroidery, and ribbons. Rosaline debated colors with astonishing seriousness while Seraphine obediently stood upon the fitting platform wondering how anyone could devote so much passion to cuffs.
When one seamstress produced a gown decorated with an astonishing quantity of lace, Rosaline clasped her hands happily.
"Oh, this one is beautiful."
Seraphine glanced at it before wrinkling her nose. "It resembles a very elegant curtain."
Rosaline burst into laughter so suddenly that even the seamstresses began smiling.
"You are impossible," Rosaline declared between chuckles.
"I believe I inherited that trait from excellent company."
By the time the afternoon drew to a close, a wedding gown had been chosen, several gowns had been commissioned, along with gloves, slippers, reticules, and enough ribbons to decorate a ballroom. Seraphine climbed back into the carriage feeling thoroughly exhausted.
"I had forgotten," she admitted as the carriage rolled away, "what it was like to shop for such things."
Rosaline laughed. "Yes, it is like the old days, is it not?"
As they returned to Donmere House, Seraphine felt physically weary yet strangely calmer than she had in days. The excitement of the outing had distracted her from the uncertainty awaiting her.
Mrs. Pennyworth met her in the entrance hall with a warm smile. "Lady Seraphine," she said, accepting her gloves. "A package arrived whilst you were away."
"A package?"
The housekeeper nodded. "It is waiting in your bedchamber."
Curiosity stirred within her as she climbed the staircase. Entering her room, she immediately noticed a small cream-colored box resting neatly upon her dressing table. A wide pink silk ribbon had been tied into an elegant bow around it.
She approached slowly before loosening the ribbon and lifting the lid.
Nestled upon soft white tissue lay the most beautiful silk scarf she had ever seen. The fabric shimmered like moonlight across still water, impossibly smooth beneath her fingertips. Delicate embroidery traced the borders with tiny white roses worked so finely they appeared almost alive.
Resting atop the scarf was a single folded note.
With suddenly trembling fingers, Seraphine unfolded it.
Wear this at our wedding.
Nothing more. No signature. No explanation. She smiled despite herself.
