Page 61 of The Seven Rings
Our family cares for your family.
Something like that.
Office hours, office numbers, right up front.
She could absolutely make it look good, appealing. But that was nothing if it wasn’t more user-friendly, and more accessible to mobile devices.
She could fix it, and spent the next hour working the concept into a plan, then added more time turning the plan into a proposal.
It took her more time to realize Clover had stopped the music.
And in the silence, she heard voices. Not close, not clear, but a murmuring, somehow female. With the voices, she felt a pull.
Not the mirror, she understood that immediately. But something that drew her, that pushed her to her feet.
She walked out into the hall, hesitated only a moment at the stairs. She could go down, call Cleo, but…
Drawn, she continued along the hall, walking steadily now, to the room where her mother stayed on visits. Instead of the flowering violet wallpaper Winter found charming, bluebirds flew across the walls. The bed, neatly turned down, had draping over its four posts and open canopy.
The room held an armoire she recognized from her Saturday search, a washstand with a bowl and pitcher, a small tufted chair and table, and a vanity with a mirror.
Logs snapped in the fireplace. The windows were dark with night, and the room was lit by candles.
A woman sat at the vanity, smiling into the glass. She wore a white nightgown with lace around the neck, a silk bow at the center, and a matching robe over it with the long sleeves gathered at the wrist.
Sonya had seen her before, wearing that nightgown as she walked, entranced, into the winter’s storm, bare feet over the snow as Dobbs waited at the seawall.
Catherine.
Behind her stood a woman in deep green velvet, her sunny hair swept up, emeralds at her ears and another glowing at her throat against the sparkle of diamonds.
A pretty woman whose eyes seemed to shine with both tears and pride. Arabelle Poole, Sonya thought, brushing her daughter’s hair on her wedding night.
“You look lovely.” Arabelle leaned down to kiss the top of Catherine’s head. “You made a lovely bride, my darling, and now you make a lovely wife.”
“I cared so little about looking lovely.” Catherine said it with alaugh in her voice as her eyes met her mother’s in the glass. “I know it caused you frustration, my beautiful mama.”
“Nonsense.” But Arabelle’s eyes laughed as she denied it.
“But today, and oh so much tonight, I want to be lovely for William. I love him so much, Mama. I never expected to love him so much, to know he loves me.”
“He is a good man, and I trust will be a good and kind husband to my daughter. I wish both of you the happiness your father and I have shared.”
Catherine reached up to take her mother’s hand. “You and Papa, you are who I look to, always, to guide me. You must know William has great affection and respect for you both.”
“And we for him.”
Arabelle set down the brush and stroked her hands down Catherine’s fall of hair.
“You and I have talked before about this night.”
A faint flush rose into Catherine’s cheeks. “Yes, Mama. I know the first time he makes me his wife there may be pain. I am not afraid.”
“I believe William will be kind, and he will be patient. I believe you will find joy. This night, and all that follow, should never be merely duty, though it is for some. You, my darling, I wish joy.”
“Don’t cry, Mama.”
“You were born in this house, and now you spend the first night as a wife in this house. I will miss you, Cathy, when you’re mistress of your own home.”
