Page 115 of The Curious Story of the Missing Lady
The butler cleared his throat and knocked at the door before entering.
“Lord Peter to see you, M’Lady.”
“Thank you, Foster, you may go.”
Peter entered the room. She was more beautiful than he could ever have imagined. The dress of hers—what did they call it?—he was never good with those things. Was it crinoline? No. Silk?Of what great matter is it that one should know the name of the substance that comprises a sunrise when one is standing barefoot in the grass in spring with the dew cooling his feet? It is enough that he is there to accept the beauty of it, for what purpose does such beauty have if not to enrich the heart of the man observing it?
“I don’t know what to say to you,” he said. “You look absolutely enthralling.”
She spun around once, allowing the wind to catch the hem of her gown in a perfect fan.
“Do you like it?”
“It is marvellous,” he said.
Sorrow filled his heart. She would never be his after all. But what was it to him? He could not in reality expect her to wait forever for him? Fate had been cruel enough to take his father and her away from him in one terrible breath. That was no fault of hers.
“Don’t look so sad,” she said. “I am a fickle girl, you know. I could change my mind at any given moment.”
“Madeline, this is hardly the time for such jokes.”
She was taken aback. “Jokes? You don’t think I’m serious? Very well, you insist on putting me to the test. The marriage is off. There, I said it. Off.”
“Madeline!” He looked at Lisbelle, who sat in the corner with needlework in her lap, oblivious to the conversation. He turned back to Madeline. “This humour is base and indefensible.”
“Tosh,” she said. “As I told you, there is no humour in it. The wedding is off, and you and I are going to be married this day. What say you?”
What could he say indeed? He had not been at such a loss for words ever in his experience.
She glided up to him. “Peter, my darling, my love ... I cannot wait for you any longer. I don’t care if you’re not ready yet. I’ll wait. But I cannot wait without you. Say it, Peter. Tell me I am yours forever.”
“Madeline, what is this?”
“It is life, Peter.Ourlife.” Her face became bright with joy. “Oliver is in love with Emily, and she with him! Don’t you see, Peter? Today is our day!”
He wanted to take her in his arms. Her eyes sparkled with such radiance that it nearly blinded him to look at them.
“I must speak with your father.”
Madeline turned to Lisbelle. “Lizzy dear, would you summon Papa to his study?” She turned to Peter with a smile. “Lord Peter has something he needs to ask of him.”
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The walk to the study was like strolling through the strange landscape of a dream. Was he really and truly experiencing any of this? He tried to will himself to awaken, whereupon he would surely discover that he’d overindulged on savouries and sweets alike, and washed down the whole with several pints of ale. Surely that was the reason for all of this.
But no, he was awake. And he felt his footsteps and smelled the food wafting up from the kitchens below.
When he reached the study, he was taken aback. There was no one there except for Lord Oliver.
He looked magnificent in his wedding attire. Peter could only hope he would look that fine onhiswedding day.
Which was today. He still couldn’t believe it.
“So, I guess itistrue,” said Lord Oliver as if answering Peter’s thoughts.
“I don’t suppose the two of us are the target of some cruel jest.”
“I don’t either. You do agree, then. It would be cruel.”
