by J. Conrad
“Today is the day, Elin dear,” Father said, taking a deep breath. “I will wed Gwyneth, and her two lovely daughters will be your new sisters. It pleases me they are so near your age. Things couldn’t be more perfect.”
He grinned at me, his blue eyes twinkling, his dark hair pulled back neatly and tied with a black, satin ribbon. He briskly brushed his velvet, plum waistcoat with his palms and adjusted the handkerchief in the pocket. Glancing up, he put a firm hand on my shoulder and squeezed, reaffirming his nervous joy. He must have thought we were sharing a moment together. To him, I was still the naive little girl who admired her daddy. Father had no idea how far I had shut him out.
Forcing myself to relax my face, I smiled back. “I’m so happy for you.” I was supposed to say more, perhaps even hug him. Instead, I pretended to be looking over Father’s attire as he fussed with it, making sure everything was just so.
He turned toward the door and my heart surged. I tried to draw a deep breath for strength, but my corset prevented me. My legs felt buttery and a lightheaded feeling made me long for a chair. My feet started moving beneath me, taking me away as I blindly followed Father out into the overcast morning. Our hound Jack trotted out to meet us but whimpered as he felt my unease. If not for the occasion, I would have stopped to talk to him.
Making a second attempt at a good deep breath, I inhaled the smell of damp leaves, earth, and rain. Fall used to be my favorite season. I loved the grey sky hovering over the trees in burning colors of orange and red. The atmosphere had invigorated me. Now, autumn signified my world dying all around me, which it truly was.
Silent, I stepped up into the carriage and took my seat next to Father. The driver slapped the reins and the horses lurched forward. As the wheels turned and the carriage started moving, I heard Father’s stifled wheeze. He turned to me like he was suddenly gripped by a thought.
“Elin, is that your mother’s dress you’re wearing?” He frowned, and my stomach dived.
“Yes, Father,” I said. It was a salmon-colored, satin gown with pearl trim—a good color for someone with blonde hair and blue eyes. I had finally grown tall enough to wear it.
“Do you think that’s appropriate under the circumstances?” His frown deepened as he pursed his lips, giving the dress a cursory inspection. His eyes softened, and he blinked, meeting my gaze again. For an instant, his expression clouded over like his thoughts were elsewhere.
“I thought it was a good way to honor her memory. She would’ve wanted you to be happy,” I said.
Father sighed. “And so, she would.”
As we jostled along the dirt road leading from our estate, I reflected on what I could possibly do to prevent this marriage and came up with nothing. I wondered why Father and Gwyneth hadn’t chosen the large, stately cathedral near the castle for their ceremony, but Father said that Gwyneth wanted a quaint wedding. I suppose it wasn’t important, it only seemed a strange thing to do for people who could afford better.
Realizing I was leaning forward in the seat, I pressed my back against the cushion. I stretched out my arms, intertwined my gloved fingers, and finally placed my folded hands on my lap. My stomach wriggled. My mind swam with foolish daydreams of how Father might ask just the right question and then I could tell him exactly what had been going on behind his back.
Elin, have any of your possessions ever caught fire by spontaneous combustion?
How curious you should ask. As a matter of fact—
“Elin,” Father said.
I visibly jumped, my hands momentarily coming off my lap in an awkward gesture. A warm heat seeped into my face and I inhaled to gather my composure. My corset suddenly felt tighter. My ribs ached.
“Yes?” I asked, lifting my chin and turning my head slightly to face him.
Father laughed, putting his hand over mine. “You were daydreaming. Don’t feel ashamed. I too was indulging in my thoughts. Look, we’re almost there.”
He nodded at his side window, and outside I saw the pebbled lane leading to the little chapel. Dark grey, wooden fence posts connected by lengths of chain link had been decorated with large, lavender bows. I thought I was going to be sick.
“I wish you would’ve accepted Gwyneth’s offer to be a bridesmaid,” Father said.
I gritted my teeth, swallowing and noticing how dry my mouth was. “There may have been a misunderstanding concerning that.”
“Lady Urien was clear that she would’ve loved to have you. Of course, it’s no matter now.” He smiled, letting me know that my sin of declining Gwyneth’s heartwarming offer was forgiven.
I didn’t answer as I recalled the terse words with Father’s fiancée at the engagement party. Already upset by various small barbs Gwyneth and her daughters had flung at me, I had drifted away from the group, standing sullenly by one of the food tables while I picked at a muffin. I had been a nervous prey animal, glancing back to notice Gwyneth floating over soundlessly. She had sidled up next to me, so close that the hems of our skirts rustled together like double draperies that had been shoved to one side of a window. I had caught the faint scent of lavender and my heart quickened. Dreading what had been coming, whatever it was, I had stiffly made myself look up from the muffin and meet her eyes.
There was no denying that Gwyneth Urien was a striking woman. She was close to Father’s age, probably two and forty, but whatever cream she used on her skin, it had been working. Her blonde hair had been put up in high twists and curls clasped with opal barrettes. Eyes the color of jade stone had peered into mine, eyes that searched my soul for something she could use. I never knew what that something was.
“Elin, darling,” Gwyneth had said. “I hope you’re not offended that I haven’t invited you to be a part of the wedding procession. It’s nothing personal. You see, my daughters and I are all quite comely, as I am sure you’re aware, and I cannot have any detractions on our special day.”
I had held my body still, confronting her with a steady gaze. As her words had sunk in, I felt like I had been punched in the gut. My glance had flitted to Annest and Dafina who doted on Father’s every word, or at least pretended to. Yes, they were attractive, like two dolls with all their makeup, curls, and lace. Coral snakes are pretty, too.
Giving Gwyneth a tight, close-lipped smile, I had said, “Of course.”
She had placed her hand on my arm, offering me a sugary sweet grin. “I knew you would understand, dear. And don’t be dismayed by your homeliness. For one thing, low self-esteem isn’t good for a girl’s marriageability. You know what they say. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”
Turning her back before I could reply, Gwyneth had nearly hit me in the face with her coif. I had jerked my head away, grimacing as though I’d just bitten into moldy bread. How unbelievable that someone would have made a point of saying those things. My racing heart had become a nervous flutter and I realized I was shaking. Parts of my mutilated muffin had dropped onto the white table cloth, rolled, and fallen onto the floor.
“Oh Talies,” Gwyneth had said loudly enough for me to hear as she returned to my father’s side. “Elin has declined to be a bridesmaid. I would’ve been honored to have this beautiful, young woman stand beside my daughters. After all, she’s soon to be as one of my own. But, of course I respect her decision and welcome her all the same.”
My mouth had dropped open. My hands had seemed to go numb. The rest of the poor muffin had fallen from my grasp and landed on the immaculate, tooled rug with a plop. My wits had followed suit, turning to mush right when I needed them most. The only thing to have been said was that she lied, which was exactly what I couldn’t have said. Father had frowned, stepping away from the teenage girls and gaping at me.
“Elin, is this true?” he had asked. His eyes had fallen. He had looked so sad I thought he might burst into tears right there in the parlor. The dull chatter around us had tapered off and then abruptly died. All the guests had turned to stare at me.
“Of course not,” I had said, maki
ng sure to give Gwyneth a look. “I would be honored to be a bridesmaid.”
Gwyneth had wrinkled her forehead, blinking and batting doleful eyes at me. “But Elin, that isn’t what you told me a moment ago. Are you only saying that because I told your father?”
“You never asked me to be a bridesmaid,” I had said, so angry now that my chest was heaving.
“Elin!” Father’s scowl could have curdled milk. Apparently, he had thought that lying in front of a room full of people was something I did for fun.
Having no more words, I had started to shake my head. Gwyneth had grabbed Father’s arm with one hand and turned his cheek toward her with the other. “It’s all right, Talies. Don’t chide her. I’m not the least bit offended. Elin and I understand one another perfectly.” She had smiled at him, a deep, rich, radiant smile that made her glow. Or perhaps it was Father who had started glowing. After snatching a disappointed glance at me, he had turned back to his love, his stony expression melting. He had murmured something appreciative which I couldn’t hear.
My skin had broken out in a cold sweat. Turning briskly, my skirts had swished against the table leg as I made my exit.
“Elin!” Father had called in a voice reflective of a wounded puppy.
I had ignored him, maintaining a smart pace as I rounded the corner. I had held up my gown and darted up the stairs to my room. I couldn’t have closed and locked the door fast enough. The smell of lavender had still lingered, as though Gwyneth’s essence had followed me. I had lifted my arm and sniffed at the sleeve. Yes, there it was. My dress was full of the reek of it. With trembling fingers, I had clawed at the laces in back, straining my shoulder blades to undo them myself. Wriggling out of the stiff material, at last I had been free. Standing there in my corset and petticoat, I had thrown the salmon-colored gown against the wall.
But I could still smell it. I had sniffed at my skin, the corset, and the petticoat, but those weren’t it. The only other thing I had been wearing was the pearl necklace. Those had belonged to Mother too. I couldn’t see how pearls could retain a smell unless they had been sprayed with something, but I had undone the clasp behind my neck and gave them a whiff anyway. Lavender. Strong lavender, so pungent it had knocked me senseless.
Gasping, I had extended my arm and held the necklace away. The string of pearls had burst into flames and I screamed.
I felt the carriage slow and was jolted back to myself. The wheels ground to a halt against the gravel and I heard a few definitive stomps of the horses’ hooves. I was here, sitting beside Father. This was the day of the wedding.
Chapter 2
Naturally, we were among the first to arrive. While Father consulted with the minister, I selected my seat in a pew on the groom’s side. Inhaling, I let my eyes wander around the modest chapel. The inside walls were made of honey-colored wood. A stained, oak lectern was situated upon the dais. Behind it, near the altar, was a carved statue of the first god, our Father, whose breath gave life to Edim. Candles were mounted all along the walls and larger ones on stands illuminated the front of the church, where the vows would be spoken. Little bunches of white roses and lavender were tied to the end of each pew with a lavender ribbon, like the ones on the fence outside. The flowers had also been placed on the front of the lectern, while some had been fashioned into a chain which wrapped around the dais.
Bit by bit, the guests began to trickle in. I crossed and uncrossed my ankles, that being the only part of my body I felt free to move. Fidgeting while I waited was out of the question, but it was hard not to when I was supposed to sit by while my Father married a woman who wasn’t what she said she was. To be honest, I didn’t know her identity, but it probably wasn’t human.
As I gave in to my frustration and picked at a hang nail, I saw a full skirt trying to push past my legs. The royal blue gown was covered in sequins and lace and must have cost a fortune. I dropped my hands to my lap and looked up to see an older woman—well, if one could call her that. Her hair was all silver and pulled into a bun, but she looked barely older than Father. I had heard that some people go grey prematurely. The woman sat down right beside me although the rest of the pew was empty—not to mention many of the other pews as well. I wondered who she was.
“Good day,” she said, smiling and raising an eyebrow as she awaited my reply. “Or perhaps I should say it isn’t.” The woman winked at me above her conservative grin.
I stared at her, noticing the unusually bright blue eyes, too blue to be real. She made Gwyneth look rather plain by comparison.
“Good day,” I said.
“I’m Eiriana,” she said, extending her hand.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, taking it. “I’m Elin, Talies’ daughter.”
“I know,” Eiriana said, smiling in earnest now. A few lines sprang up at the corners of her eyes. “I’m your grandmother—Cara’s mother. I have wanted to meet you for so long.”
I blinked, frowning as I stared at her. My mother had told me that my grandmother was lost long ago. I felt like I was plummeting into her vivid irises, getting lost in them and the strangeness of her. I knew it was rude, but I looked her up and down, again noticing the sequined dress and now her jewelry—a large sapphire pendant on a gold chain. I wondered what kind of game she was playing and what was in it for her. The idea that I was related to this woman was insane. Who was she and what did she want?
“There must be some mistake,” I said. “My mother told me my grandmother passed away many years ago.”
Eiriana lifted her chin slightly. “Is that what she told you? That I died?”
Well, okay, not technically. “No. I believe she used the word ‘lost.’”
Eiriana smiled. “Ah, yes. And so, I was. But now I’m found again, right here in this chapel next to my only granddaughter.” She gathered her silk shawl around her shoulders as though she was cold and pretended to look around the church.
I opened my mouth, but realized I had nothing to say and snapped it shut. I wished she would get on with it, whatever it was. I turned to face the lectern. There was nothing to see besides Father and Friar Prowell standing idly beside one another. Guests were still meandering in and choosing their seats.
“A small turnout for such a wealthy widow, don’t you think?” Eiriana whispered into my ear. She had leaned her head toward me, and though I couldn’t see her expression the sarcastic grin was audible. I let a small giggle escape.
“I wondered why she didn’t want to use Hennion Cathedral. I thought all the lords and ladies and important people were married there,” I said.
“Yes, you’re right,” Eiriana nodded. “Well, it’s simple really. The cathedral is too close to the castle. Too many eyes and ears darting about. A wedding held in a small, woodland church with a minimal number of guests draws the least amount of attention.”
...draws the least amount of attention. Eiriana certainly had mine. I wondered if she was a friend of Gwyneth’s, and if this was some sort of setup to entrap me. As though I wasn’t trapped enough as it was.
“I beg your pardon, but I don’t understand,” I said. I peered at her from the corner of my eye, readjusting my clasped hands.
“You will,” Eiriana said. She swiveled her body in the pew and glanced behind her. “Almost time, then.”
Father and Friar Prowell took their places in front of the aisle near the dais, and the small gathering of wedding guests fell silent, all turning in the pews as Eiriana had done. Now I noticed that the church doors had been propped open. I could see the pebbled lane, the copper-tinged trees and the overcast sky. It seemed darker, like storm clouds were moving in, and I liked the idea of Gwyneth and her daughters getting rained on outside. That was probably too much to hope for.
On the dais, the flutist lifted his instrument and began to play. The tune wasn’t what I expected. It seemed sweet and sad, the kind of song which reminds one of a distant memory they can’t place. The melody was too doleful for a wedding. Well, maybe not for this one.
>
My eyes flitted to Father, my blood quickening as I wondered if he had somehow noticed my disrespectful thoughts. His gaze was locked on the church doors. I smiled at him, but he didn’t even look at me. Come to think of it, he hadn’t acknowledged my presence even once since we arrived.
Dafina appeared through the open doors first, head held high and grasping her bouquet in thin, dainty fingers. She was a slender brunette with a narrow nose, wearing a lavender gown that matched the decorations exactly. She had put on so much face powder it was a wonder she hadn’t sneezed it all off already.
Soon Annest strutted out after her sister, blonde like her mother and buxom. Her bodice was barely containing her womanly charms. I listened to the click of her boot heels as she made her way to the front and took her place next to Dafina. When she stopped and faced the gathering, the flutist changed his tune to the bridal melody I was accustomed to.
My stomach dropped, and I knew I was supposed to stand up now, but my legs had turned to lead. I grabbed the back of the pew and forced myself up. Eiriana followed, though I thought it was odd that she had waited for me to do so first.
A shock to my senses, Gwyneth appeared in the doorway. Her smile was like the sun. Her gown shone in waves of pale lavender and sequins that sparkled in rose gold and silver as she gracefully approached. I turned to get a glimpse of Father as his bride walked toward him down the aisle. He stood unmoving, unblinking, and mesmerized, as I suppose any man would have done.
