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“Please, Violetta. You have been in a peculiar mood as of late, but—” Mama started.
“No, I do not,” said Violetta softly. “I believe you have found the only person in the world who could take the fire that burns in your soul and stoke the flames instead of seeking to extinguish it. And you, Sister. You are his muse. I see two phoenixes. No matter what the world may toss at you, together, you will rise together from the ashes. You are not lucky to have found one another. You were destined.”
Tears sprang forth in Orris’s eyes. She had never heard Violetta speak so highly of her and it warmed her soul. “Vi, I appreciate—” She choked on the lump in her throat.
In a surge, Violetta moved quickly over to her spot at the window and wrapped her arms around her sister. They stood for a moment hugging one another, an embrace so tight, Orris was sure they would faint for lack of air.
A sniffle rose in the background. “I am so sorry,” Myrtle said. “These days, I can scarcely contain my emotions.”
Orris and Violetta broke apart and moved to their sister’s side. She was getting so round from her delicate condition, she struggled to get up from chairs. She was due to go into confinement at her return to London, and the doctors had warned her against travel. But she refused to miss Orris’s wedding day. Samuel had been left to succumb to her fancy.
“Myrtle, can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?” Orris asked.
“No, it is your wedding day. I am here to support you,” she blubbered, tears falling freely now.
“Well, the queen was certainly delighted to have been right about your condition.” Mama laughed. She had sent her a correspondence telling her the news. To which she had responded, Of course I was right. I am the queen.
Mama had carried the letter with her to every event across London that summer. The other ladies had been both aghast and superbly envious.
“Oh, Mama, I doubt there are any words of comfort for poor Myrtle in Queen Victoria’s letter,” Violetta said.
“I was simply affording credit where it is due.”
“I do not like the way your feet look, Cousin,” said Gladys. “They are swollen. We shall have to have Cousin Samuel carry you into the ceremony.”
“No, do not tell him of my feet. He will drag me home this moment. He is horribly overprotective these days. As is my soon-to-be brother-in-law. They have scolded me whenever I walk into the garden. Utterly suffocating.”
“Well, if you experience any pain or sense yourself quickening, you must tell me,” Mama said. “We will fetch a midwife. The duke has promised they have the best in all of Ireland nearby.”
“I am fine. Everyone, please. Help Orris into her veil and stop fussing over me,” Myrtle said, waving her hands to shoo them way.
“If you insist,” Orris said.
“I do. Go on,” Myrtle commanded once more.
At her insistence, they all moved back to the seat in front of a silver-framed mirror. The room had been Abram’s mother’s prior to her death. It was well appointed, the four-poster bed so large, it stole half the space of the room.
When she sat, Eliza, who had been promoted to her personal lady’s maid, pinned the saffron-colored veil to her braided crown. The shimmer of diamonds in the tiara winked at Orris as she moved her head.
Her dress was ivory with yellow tulips, a symbol of fertility, embroidered on the torso. Her skirts contained layers and layers of intermittent lace and satin. Orris felt like a queen in the fashionable gown.
“You are stunning,” Mama said. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears as she stared at Orris’s reflection in the mirror. She stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.
A knock on the door came.
“Yes?” Orris called out.
“They are ready,” the voice said. She had yet to learn everyone’s names and was regretful. She resolved to remedy the situation the moment they were done with their honeymoon.
“Please tell them we are coming,” she said.
“Right. We shall make our way to the chapel. There is a carriage waiting for us downstairs,” Violetta said.
“I shall see you there,” Orris promised.
The three left the room, Violetta and Gladys helping Myrtle by standing at her side and supporting her weight. Myrtle complained the entire way.
“What shall we do without you around?” Mama asked.