Part 13 (2/2)
Ah! Perhaps this was the source of the questions. ”What became of him?”
”I do not know. He disappeared one day.” She snapped her fingers. ”Like that. I have never married.”
”Oh, Lilette . . . I am so sorry.” Olivia's heart squeezed painfully.
”Merci, Miss Eversea. You are very kind.”
There was a little silence.
”Surely one day . . . you are still young . . .” Olivia ventured.
”Perhaps. But my heart, she cannot seem to see anyone else.”
Oh G.o.d. Olivia wondered what her life would be like if she'd ever dared explain that to her family that way: My heart, she cannot seem to see anyone else.
And then had quietly retired from life. There! Done with that nonsense.
Instead she'd endured years of bouquets and wagers in betting books. She'd dodged suitors neatly, charmingly, and had managed to hide the greater part of herself for years.
Until her cousin Adam Sylvaine, the vicar, had given her the miniature she'd once given Lyon. He'd said he was not at liberty to tell her how it came into his possession. All she knew was that Lyon had somehow relinquished it, and he'd once vowed he never would.
It had broken the spell. She had decided then to do something to rejoin life.
And life for any woman typically meant getting married and having a family.
”I'm sorry that you lost him, Mademoiselle Lilette. Truly.”
She reached down a hand, and found Lilette's hand coming up to squeeze hers.
”Mais bien sr, I am strong.”
Olivia couldn't see it, but she sensed a Gallic shrug from down around the area of her hem.
There was a hush, honoring lost loves.
”Mademoiselle Lilette . . .”
”Oui, Miss Eversea?”
She was almost afraid to ask the question. She'd never known another soul she could ask, and she was half afraid of the answer.
And finally she did.
”How did . . . how did you go on?” Her voice was nearly a whisper. ”When you knew he was gone?”
She had never met another soul who could possibly answer that question.
Mademoiselle Lilette was quiet for a time.
”I have my pa.s.sions, too, you see. If you are a pa.s.sionate woman, you find things to care about, for you cannot help yourself. As you have, yes? For the strong, we do go on.”
Olivia couldn't speak. It had taken all of her nerve to even ask that question, and she hadn't yet found her voice again.
”Your heart is healed, non, Miss Eversea? The song, it is silly nonsense, and you should not let it trouble you. You will be happy, Miss Eversea, you will see. You are marrying a fine man.”
Olivia was not willing to discuss the condition of her heart. ”One of the finest of men I've known.”
”And you are fortunate.”
”I am fortunate.”
”And only the grandest of women are sung about.”
Olivia snorted at that. ”There I fear our opinions must diverge. I wish more than anything for a little time away from songs and wagers and prints and all this nonsense. It's everywhere I turn. If only I could escape for a week or two to catch my breath . . . so I can be married with a clear mind.”
”Perhaps a trip to the country?”
”Another country, perhaps,” Olivia said mordantly. ”My home is in the country, in Pennyroyal Green, Suss.e.x. I would have to go very far to escape the nonsense, as we've agreed to call it. It seems to have saturated London and its environs. Then again, my mother might not even notice I've gone and I've hardly been very helpful lately. My nerves are making me shrewish.”
She was still talking when she noticed Mademoiselle Lilette was motionless for some time.
”Miss Eversea?”
”Yes?”
”We are fini.”
Well, then. She and Mademoiselle Lilette were the first to see her stand up in her wedding dress.
The seamstress turned her around by her shoulders ceremoniously and aimed Olivia at the mirror.
The dress was a masterpiece of gossamer, flowing simplicity. The tiered sleeves were short and ever so slightly puffed and trimmed in silver lace. They looked as dainty as little fairy bells perched on her shoulders. A train flowed behind her like mist-a train, not cobwebs-and silver ribbon gleamed at the neckline, the hem, the waist. The hem was caught up in little loops of silver ribbon, with just a scatter of beading. She was to wear white kid gloves.
She hardly recognized the girl who stared back at her. White-faced, dazzled. Haunted.
”I would certainly marry me,” she said.
Mademoiselle Lilette smiled.
”You are beautiful, Miss Eversea. Surely it is all anyone should require of you right now.”
It was time to think about Landsdowne.
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