Glass Roses: A Victorian Fairytale

by Britain Kalai Soderquist

  Give my love to Uncle Charles and to your dear Rupert. I am very much looking forward to meeting him; I am certain he must be a superior man in every way, for my uncle would not willingly be left alone with Aunt Sylvia and my cousins after their many indiscretions if your future husband were not truly deserving of you. William is anxious to meet you, and Papa is looking forward to seeing Uncle Charles again and hearing more details of his adventure. No one is looking forward to seeing Aunt Sylvia, Fanny, or Hettie, but we shall endure them because we must. I am determined not to let their presence mar my enjoyment of seeing you again.

  Your delighted cousin,

  Isabella

  Epilogue One

  16 September, 1845

  12 Grantham Square, London

  Dear Lydia,

  Please forgive the tardiness of my reply to your most recent letter. I have been in almost constant motion since my arrival in London over a fortnight ago. My cousin’s wedding has occupied very nearly all of my thoughts and certainly all of my free moments. But it has all been worth the effort, for I assure you that it could not have been a more splendid day.

  Thankfully we have not had to carry out all of the preparations in one household. We should have been far too cramped with Papa, Step-mamma, Hettie, Fanny, Uncle Matthew, Isabella, and myself all living at Grantham Square. Lady Graham was most generous in her invitation to Isabella and Uncle Matthew to remain in her home until after the wedding. It did, however, result in much exercise beyond my usual regime as we visited countless shops and discussed the details either in Lady Graham’s home or the home of her daughter, Lady Easton. At times I wished that I had accepted her invitation to take a room there (particularly on the mornings when letters have arrived from Rupert, for Fanny scowls and Step-mamma becomes stiff, and it is all most dreadfully uncomfortable), but the relative solitude of my own home came to be most welcome after the flurry of Lady Graham’s residence.

  Lady Graham is among the circle of formal acquaintances I have acquired over the years while visiting Isabella, and I have long considered her to be a most elegant woman. Lady Easton was not known to me before (having been grown and married before my father married Step-mamma), but I find I like her quite as much as Isabella does. She is always most particular about her dress and appearance, although the ease with which she achieves this effect prevents her from seeming vain or vulgar. She is even more elegant than her mother, certainly enough to rival even a woman as genteel as Lady Rousseau. Lady Easton would suit the society of Paris perfectly.

  Both ladies were the natural choice to assist my cousin with her wedding preparations, as neither she nor I have any experience in such matters, and we do not trust Step-mamma’s taste in such matters. Ladies Graham and Easton were still careful to not exclude any of us from the plans, and their cheerful manners helped dispel some of the ill will between myself and my stepfamily. They were particularly anxious to ensure that I felt included in the selection of things such as Isabella’s gown and the menus for the wedding breakfast, in spite of my inexperience. (The thought occurred to me that they were trying to prepare me to make arrangements for my own wedding, and I have gratefully paid close attention throughout the whole process.)

  Even with so much help, Isabella was anxious about the arrangements. Never having been interested in fashion and society beyond a proper desire to appear to advantage, she was worried that she would not do justice to the Duke of Stirling’s rank and consequence. This concern led her to seek out the Duke’s opinion rather more than I think is usually the custom with grooms. Duke William agreed with her every opinion, which I thought was very sweet. He growled somewhat over the necessity of his participation in the process, but he seemed to be making an effort to be patient with her and at least tolerate the fuss of a glamorous London wedding.

  But you must be anxious to hear more details of the actual day, if your last letter is any indication. It really is a pity that you were not able to be there. I know Isabella would not have minded adding you to the guest list, for I have written to her about you numerous times, and she is most eager to meet you at the first possible opportunity.

  The wedding took place yesterday morning and was everything that one could wish. The church was rather fuller than I expected, as I know the Duke has only a few distant relatives (such as the Duncans) and Isabella’s family is similarly small. But the friends and acquaintances of both had turned out in large enough numbers that the mood was festive as the pews filled. Lady Easton had placed a large order for flowers that were tastefully used to ornament the church. The English weather having been so agreeable this summer, the flowers were especially fresh and beautiful.

  The Duke was dressed to advantage in a dark green dress coat with a matching vest that had been embroidered all over in cream with a pattern of leaves and vines. He is quite the tallest man I know, taller even than Rupert, and so broad that he seems a veritable giant. Isabella describes him to be like a bear, and I must say the comparison is fitting. I personally think His Grace’s manners are rather too serious and direct to be enjoyable on a daily basis, but as I am not the one married to him, it is of no consequence, and overall I found the time I spent in company with him most interesting. I am satisfied that he will suit Isabella extremely well.

  Duke William seemed to have a certain amount of nervous energy about him as he stood at the head of the church waiting for the ceremony to begin. He glanced at me with a slightly questioning look, as if wondering what on earth could be taking so long, and I smiled back reassuringly. Then Hettie (who was seated to my left) sighed rather dramatically, and every eye turned to watch Isabella make her way to the altar.

  She looked lovely in a gown of pale cream satin and lace, with a delicate lace veil draped over her fair hair. Her brown eyes glowed golden and warm in the morning sunlight that filtered through the high windows. Uncle Matthew walked beside her, her arm held in his own, and looking a little tearful through his smiles. Isabella’s gaze moved across the gathered guests as she walked. When she reached the front pew she glanced at me, and her smile broadened slightly before she turned her full attention to Duke William. He had not taken his eyes from her for a moment, and it was clear that he thought her utterly beautiful.

  I am afraid I do not remember every word of the ceremony, for I was indulging in thinking about Rupert and wishing he had been able to travel to England to join us. My reverie was broken as the clergyman finished his recitation, and I was fully attentive when Duke William kissed Isabella most tenderly.

  The wedding breakfast was held at Lady Easton’s large residence and was quite sumptuous. The Duke and Isabella greeted their guests and thanked them for their attendance and gifts. I found my friend Charlotte, and we wandered about the rooms, discussing the bride’s gown with the other ladies and generally trying to avoid my stepsisters. (Hettie sighed so often throughout the day that it seemed as though any room she was in had a draught, and Fanny flirted with any man who had the misfortune to cross her path.)

  Finally it was time for the bride to retire and exchange her wedding gown for one better suited to traveling. She excused herself from her husband and guests, and we made our way upstairs to Lady Easton’s dressing room, which had been set aside particularly for Isabella’s use.

  “At last we shall have a moment of quiet!” she exclaimed as I closed the door behind us. “Please do not ring for the maid just yet. I have been longing to speak with you all morning.” She reached up and began unpinning the lace veil, and I stepped forward to help. “Do you think William approved of my gown?” she added, sitting down in a chair while I carefully folded up the delicate lace.

  “I think he approved most highly of it. He could not stop looking at you during the whole of the ceremony, and he has spent the whole morning attempting to keep you where he can see you.”

  Isabella blushed, a rare sight but a lovely one. “I can scarcely believe it has happened; I do not feel as though I have changed in any noticeable way, and yet I feel diffe
rent, as though anything is possible. Do you suppose it is like this for everyone?”

  “Certainly for those who are truly happy,” I replied, unable to stop smiling. She beamed back at me and sighed, then bent down and began unlacing her slippers.

  “We had best not keep William waiting. He is eager to be off to Scotland this afternoon, and I know that he will not be enjoying the crowd as much without me there to share the burden of society with him.”

  I summoned the maid, and between the three of us we made short work of exchanging her wardrobe and folding the beautiful gown. Before we left the dressing room we exchanged one last embrace. We were both a little tearful and could not help laughing at ourselves.

  “Now, you must write and tell me all about the arrangements for your own wedding as soon as they are known,” Isabella said, wiping at her cheeks. “I expect minute particulars about every button and ribbon.” I laughed and promised to send her every detail as we descended the stairs to rejoin the company.

  Within half an hour, she and Duke William entered their new carriage (ordered specially for the occasion) and began their journey to Castle Stirling. Uncle Matthew kept wiping at his eyes with his pocket handkerchief, even as we bid farewell to the Eastons and Grahams and returned to our house in Grantham Square. We all retired early after dining, and even Fanny and Step-mamma were pleased by the end of the day.

  Tomorrow we set off for Kent. I confess I am looking forward to being in my own home again. We shall remain there until the middle of October, when we will return to the Continent and journey to Vienna. Rupert has written to tell me that our wedding day is set for the tenth of November, and I shall depend on seeing you among the guests.

  Please write and assure me that you will not have returned to Ireland before that time. Until then, I hope you will be patient with any mention I make of my wedding arrangements while you assist your sister in preparing for her own upcoming union. If my discussions of gowns and guest lists become wearisome, you have only to tell me and I shall endeavor to find another topic of discussion.

  Your friend,

  Eleanor

  Epilogue Two

  Isabella’s Diary

  3 November, 1845

  Hotel Sacher, Vienna

  At last we have arrived in Vienna! The journey has been interesting (especially the portion on the railway in Belgium and Germany), but I am heartily glad to be staying in one place for the next fortnight at least. William has been thinking of remaining in the city after Eleanor's wedding so that he may examine the books in the Royal Library. Apparently the scientific collection is quite good. My only wish at this moment is to collapse on my bed and sleep until morning, but I must dress for dinner soon. We are to dine with Eleanor and her family in company with the Warners. I am anxious to see her again, as well as Uncle Charles and Papa. It is hard to believe that I have not seen any of them for seven whole weeks. But my time in Scotland has been most pleasant, and I would not trade my William’s company for anything.

  William has just ordered our carriage, so I have another moment to write. The hotel we are staying in is quite the finest I have ever seen. Gold gilt on everything! And I gave in to my desire for rest just long enough to discover that the bed is quite as comfortable as a cloud.

  4 November

  Breakfast in our room this morning, which made me feel quite as elegant as an empress. Now I understand why Eleanor found the food to be so delectable here. I do believe there is nothing to compare with the chocolate made in this part of the world.

  I was disappointed not to meet Rupert at dinner last night. He and his uncle apparently were obliged to attend on their Imperial relations and were unable to join us at the Warners'. But Lord and Lady Warner were most welcoming, and I liked them instantly. I must admit to being slightly taken aback by just how short Lady W. is, for I had quite forgotten that detail from Eleanor's letters. William was surprised to find that Lord Warner is quite knowledgeable about botany as well as music, and they engaged with Papa in a most lively discussion about William's work at home.

  Aunt Sylvia was her usual falsely bright self, though Hettie seemed slightly improved. Fanny seemed to be struggling not to appear disappointed at the lack of young, eligible gentlemen when we removed to the drawing room. She annoyed me a great deal by perking up upon William's entrance and addressing him most forwardly, but my annoyance turned to amusement as I watched the scene. William was deep in discussion with Papa about some new species of rhododendron when they entered. He did not even hear Fanny speak, for he did not turn his head in her direction. Instead he continued his conversation with Papa without ceasing until he had joined Eleanor and me, stopping only to give her a gracious bow and bestow a glowing smile on me. (He smiles more now than he did even when we were first married. I am decidedly in favor of the change.) Eleanor nodded at William in return and raised her teacup to restrain a laugh at William’s total ignorance of Fanny’s attempt at conversation. This did not work, however, for she choked slightly, and only laughed more at the confused look William gave us as I laughed with her.

  Eleanor was looking as lovely as ever. I have always loved looking at her. She reminds me a little of Mama, except for her dark hair and blue eyes. But that dramatic coloring, the glow that seems to hang about her when she is happy, Mama had these things as well. I know that she has had to suffer a great deal from her father's marriage to Aunt Sylvia, but I shall always be grateful for it. I do not know how I should have acquired any refinement without her example. Aunt Sylvia certainly would not have helped, for she has never seemed to care much for me (although to be fair, I would not have heeded her advice had she given it). Eleanor's mother must have been a most elegant woman indeed, for I know Eleanor does her best to live up to her mother’s example.

  The Warners being exceedingly musical, the evening naturally included a display of talents. Aunt Sylvia and I played along with both the Warners and Eleanor (Aunt S. is actually fairly accomplished, but her daughters have not followed her example). Eleanor's performance was my favorite, naturally. Even William was impressed, though he whispered to me that he will always prefer my playing to that of any other woman. He is indeed in love if he can still prefer my amateur skill after hearing Eleanor's near professional abilities.

  William has joined the other men at the Royal Library this morning, but I remain behind to enjoy the luxury of the soft bed and sleep away some of my weariness from the journey. I cannot think why I should still be so fatigued, for we were not out late. Perhaps it is due to the added strain of speaking French all evening. The Warners were kind enough to accommodate those of us who do not speak German, but my French is woefully inadequate; even Fanny speaks better than I do now. William has promised to help me improve, and I have high hopes that I shall regain a measure of comfort in time.

  ~ Later ~

  I have met Rupert at last and think he is exactly suited to Eleanor in every way. They are an exceedingly handsome couple. His manners are perfect, but not overly formal. On the contrary, he is quick to laugh, and one feels quite as though one has known him forever after only a few minutes. On the way back to the hotel, William and I agreed that we like him quite well. Rupert has particularly gained my favor by the way he treats Eleanor. It is obvious that he is wholly devoted to her, as she is to him.

  Once again we had music, and Rupert played and sang for us. Eleanor teased him into performing on Lord Warner's cello, which I have never heard played alone. It was exquisite to say the least. Rupert then tried to tease Eleanor into playing the instrument as well, but she declined, blushing furiously the whole time even as she smiled over the joke. The high color suited her admirably, and Rupert seemed enchanted by it.

  I feel quite the old married lady in making these observations, although I am the youngest of us. I wonder if William and I ever looked this way to outside observers. Most likely not, for though I do not consider myself to be ill-looking in any degree, Eleanor is a true beauty. And William's attractive qualities are q
uite different from Rupert; Rupert glows steadily, like a candle, while William smolders and blazes by turn, like a wood fire.

  8 November

  We have been quite busy these last few days, and I have not had much time to write. There is still much to do to prepare for Eleanor's wedding, not to mention how much there is to see about the city. I have also been introduced to Count von Schönfeld. In manners, he is a combination of his nephew and my own William, and I liked him immensely. He was extremely courteous to us, and has been of much assistance in keeping the men occupied while we ladies finish the preparations for the wedding.

  I thought that my own wedding was complicated to arrange, but I have had to amend my opinion after the last few days. Thank heavens William's rank did not require us to have a formal state ceremony! We would both have been quite overwhelmed. As it is, I return from helping Eleanor each day in a state of utter exhaustion. I do not know how she maintains her energy.

  Today was most gratifying, however, for Eleanor had her last fitting for her wedding gown this afternoon. The modiste brought the gown to Lady Warner's home, and the men were sent out so that we would not be disturbed. It took the modiste, both of her assistants, and Eleanor’s maid, Martha, to manage all of the buttons, laces, and folds of fabric, but the effect is most lovely. Eleanor stood patiently while Lady Warner and the modiste went over every inch of the gown, one assistant holding pins, and the other taking notes.