Page 36 of The Secret Word
The scalloped neckline, low over the tops of her breasts, was made decent by a decorous scooped under-neckline in ivory silk, and trimmed with the same ivory lace that had been used on the cuffs of the short, puffed sleeves.
“It is a lovely gown, Clementine,” Aunt Fern said, “and it will suit you beautifully.”
Clem spoke directly to the dressmaker. “Thank you,” she said. “It is even better than I believed possible.”
“I believe it will fit, Miss Wright,” said the dressmaker, “but we can make any last-minute adjustments in a trice.”
Martha assisted with Clem’s stays and petticoat, then the dressmaker and her seamstress lifted the gown over her head and settled it gently into place before fastening the back of the gown with five beautiful Dorset buttons made from rings andsilk thread that matched the gown—the top one in cream and the other four in sky blue.
When they were done, she turned to examine her reflection in the mirror, while the dressmaker and the seamstress fluttered around her, settling a seam, testing the fit of the waist, checking the length of the hem.
“That seems satisfactory,” said the dressmaker with a decisive nod.
“It is wonderful,” Clem corrected, “and it fits beautifully.”
It had to come off, of course, so that Martha could dress Clem’s hair, but first Clem gave a small bonus to the dressmaker and her assistant, and Martha showed them out. Their part in the day was done.
“You are going to be a beautiful bride, my dear,” Aunt Fern assured Clem. Clem would be satisfied with attractive to Chris, but in this gown, she could almost believe Aunt Fern.
Martha took longer than usual to style Clem’s hair. “You need something special for today,” she said. She plaited and wove it, threading ribbon among the locks—sky blue and cream, with more of the crystal beads sparkling here and there. Clem could only catch glimpses, and she was not prepared for the full effect.
“Why, I look pretty,” she discovered when her maid eventually allowed her to face the mirror.
“Youarepretty, miss,” Martha insisted.
“You are beautiful,” said Aunt Fern, and Mrs. Bellowes arriving at that moment joined the chorus.
“You look lovely, Miss Wright.”
Clem doubted Father would agree with them, but she rather thought Chris might.
Stockings and garters next, slippers that matched the gown, and ivory gloves.
The day was sunny, and too warm for her ivory pelisse. Clem sat to allow Martha to settle the blue and ivory confection of abonnet onto her head. She then stood to view the finished effect in the mirror.You do look pretty, she thought. The gown would do very well.
“Father will be waiting,” she said. “Let us go down.”
Father stood when she entered the parlor, his eyes examining her from head to toe. “If your mother could see you now, Clementine,” he said, and sighed. “You look a right treat, you do. Pretty as a picture. Well, Lady Fernvale, shall we be off to the church to see this girl married?” He chuckled. “St. George’s, just as I planned!”
Clem followed them in something of a daze. She could not remember her father ever complimenting her appearance before. Or anything else about her, really.Pretty as a picture. Well!
*
Chris had askedHarry Satterthwaite and Michael Thurgood to stand up with him. He hadn’t expected Billy to attend, but there the man was, sitting on the groom’s side of the church a few pews back from the front. Tiny was there, too, and at least a dozen of the other men—floor managers from each of the gambling dens, the man who operated the loan business, and managers of Billy’s other shops.
The women, too, for Billy had women managing each of his brothels, as well as a laundry, a pawnbroker, two barefoot schools, and some of Billy’s residential properties.
Chris had worked with them all, and was pleased to have them at his wedding, all dressed in their best clothes and looking as respectable as the other people in the pews on that side.
The others were strangers, but the resemblance of some of them to either Harry or Michael identified them. They were hisSatterthwaite and Thurgood relatives, who had come to see him married. Chris was touched.
Would they take exception to the company in which they found themselves? If they did, no matter. He’d lived his life without them up until now, and it had been because of them that he did so. He could continue. Would Wright take exception to their presence? He would not arrive until Clem did. It was to be hoped that, by the time he realized that Chris’s family had come out to support their relative, it would be too late to stop the wedding.
Those on the bride’s side were mostly strangers, except for a few he’d met when in company with Wright. Business magnates and merchant nabobs, and the women with them presumably their wives and daughters.
Here came his godmother, and behind her Clem’s maid, Martha, and the companion, Mrs. Bellowes. Aunt Fern strolled down the aisle to join those on the groom’s side while Mrs. Bellowes settled on the bride’s side. Martha took a seat at the back, with several other people Chris recognized from Wright’s household.
And if Aunt Fern, Mrs. Bellowes, and Martha were here, then Clem must be close! Chris stood up straighter, his eyes on the door by which she would enter. His cravat suddenly felt tight. He didn’t realize he was running his finger around his neck, trying to give himself room, until Michael Thurgood leaned over and told him, “You’re messing up your cravat. Stop touching it.”
