Page 46 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
“I wouldn’t do the same for you,” she muttered, staring as the water began to bubble and spit. “Just remember that.”
Ella thanked her, spinning back towards the foyer and bursting up the stairs. When she reappeared in her bedroom, she found Tatiana half-dressed, scrubbing her body with soap, sniffling. She shivered slightly. Her motions were guarded and strange, as though she was operating them with strings from above.
“There you are,” she whispered, her voice slightly raspy.
“Tea is coming,” Ella affirmed. “Along with breakfast. I know you’ll feel right as rain in a moment. It’s surely just jitters.”
“Perhaps.” Tatiana sighed. She dabbed herself with the towel, allowing her shoulders to droop. “Imagine Frederick and I in front of our family and friends. Me, with a massive bit of snot oozing from my nose. Can you imagine? I’ll be the laughing stock of London. No one will allow me to live it down for the rest of my life.”
“That surely won’t happen,” Ella blurted.
“But suppose it does?” Tatiana whispered. “Suppose Frederick decides, during the I dos, that I shouldn’t be his wife? Perhaps it’s consumption, and I’ll be dead within the week? He’ll be a widow, without even knowing what sort of wife I could have been. Oh, can you imagine anything more wretched?”
The clock ticked forward, inching them evermore towards the wedding. Tiffany arrived quickly at the door, her eyes targeting only Tatiana. She positioned the platter of tea next to the mirror and drew her hand to Tatiana’s forehead, checking for a fever. She clucked her tongue, something Ella couldn’t fully read.
“You aren’t quite warm,” Tiffany said, with all the intelligence and know-how of a much older woman. “But it’s clear you have some sort of cold. Here. Drink up.”
Tatiana’s hand made the cup clatter against the saucer just before she lifted it, such was the severity of her shakes. Ella slipped her hand over her barren shoulder, marvelling at how thin she looked. Her eyes glowed with fear.
“I’ll be quite all right, won’t I, Ella?” Tatiana murmured.
“I can tell you for certain you’ll be fine,” Ella said, speaking with more certainty than she’d ever had for anything else. Even she believed it, although her heart pitter-pattered with anxiety. “And you know Frederick would find you divine, regardless of your state.”
“Even if I was a corpse?” Tatiana moaned.
“Stop that!” both Tiffany and Ella chimed. This was their first moment of agreement since their wretched debacle in the wardrobe. At once, they made eye contact once more and burst into strange, overzealous laughter. Ella swept her hands over her stomach, letting out a cackle. Suddenly, all of it seemed so far away, so banal. It hadn’t mattered at all. Not like this.
Another kitchen staff member arrived with a platter of breakfast for the girls. She reported that their parents were up and about, dressing for the ceremony. Slowly, as Tatiana sipped her tea, her cheeks glowed a bit brighter.
“There she is,” Tiffany said.
Ella tore a bit of scone apart and placed some crumbs on her tongue. Tatiana clacked her cup back on the saucer and reached for the scone, adding a fair amount to her mouth and chewing heartily.
“Perhaps it was my brain getting the best of me,” she said sighing.
“One can never know the tricks the mind plays,” Tiffany said, during a moment of strange sincerity. “My sister, she grew so ill after her husband died. The doctor reported there was nothing wrong with her. Every night, she stirred and cried out in her sleep, sweating through the sheets. And every morning, she would rise, her eyes void of purpose, her stomach in knots. She asked the doctor to give her anything. Anything to numb the pain. But he hadn’t a clue where to begin.”
There was a long, dramatic pause. Ella didn’t wish for Tatiana’s mind to be filled with such a wretched story, so shortly before her wedding. She cleared her throat, chewing through the last of her scone.
“Why don’t you eat up, Tatty?” she murmured, drawing her fingers down her older sister’s arm. “You’ll feel right as rain in no time. You know that you and Frederick are meant to be, don’t you? It was written in the stars.”
“You always knew it, too?” Tatiana asked, her voice breaking a bit.
“I always knew,” Ella lied.
It seemed that Tiffany and Ella’s words of encouragement gave Tatiana all she needed to press forward. She chewed up an entire scone and a sausage and sprung to her feet, sneezing only once or twice more. Sunlight streamed in through the window, a reminder that times were changing, that the world would find itself a brand-new married couple within just a few hours.
Tatiana flung open the wardrobe, discovering her own bridal gown within. She let out a slight sigh. Tiffany pattered back towards the door, carrying the tea tray with her. It was clear her time had passed.
“Shall we dress?” Tatiana asked Ella, sounding more like the younger girl she’d been, the one who’d insisted on playing dress-up throughout their youth. “I dare say I’ll need help slipping into this monstrous thing.”
The girls donned their dresses. Ella’s simple white lace dress was, indeed, a dream on her slim frame. It contrasted her red curls marvellously, making them glow. Even Tatiana drew breath at the vision of Ella, whispering, “I hope they’ll even look at me twice, with you up there with me.”
But it was clear that Tatiana would steal the show, as she was meant to do. She shimmied into her silver gown, sweeping her fingers across the delicate lace Ella had stitched together.
“You did such a marvellous job, Ella,” Tatiana murmured. “I couldn’t have imagined a better gown.”
Ella blushed. Although she sensed the truth behind her sister’s words, it still felt remarkable to her that she’d had such a hand in something so truly stunning. Her sister walked tenderly in the gown, so that the sunlight from the window glittered across the silver. Ella forgot to breathe for a moment, remarking, “You look every bit the bride you were always meant to be.”
