9. A Mother and Daughter Talk
CHAPTER 9
A MOTHER AND DAUGHTER TALK
T he following evening
Emma tightened the strings of Ella Mae’s corset before tying the ends into a bow. “You never did show me your costume,” she said, stepping to the side to help with lifting a crinoline into place around her daughter’s waist. She tied the strings of the waistband and helped Ella Mae to pull on a petticoat.
“That’s because I finished it only moments ago,” Ella Mae replied, regarding her reflection in the cheval mirror with a critical eye. “I haven’t even seen it on me.”
“Then we’ll both be surprised,” Emma said, moving to the bed to gather up the white gown. “This fabric is gorgeous. Why, this could be a wedding gown,” she remarked, studying the tiny stitches making up the seams and the white flowers embroidered along the neckline. “You do such beautiful work, young lady. Your talents with a needle far surpass those of Mrs. Watkins.”
Ella Mae grinned. “She was an excellent teacher,” she claimed, bending down while her mother held the skirt so she could pull it over her head. After a good deal of wriggling, shifting, and draping, the full skirt finally settled over the petticoat and crinoline. Reaching for the separate bodice, Emma held it open so Ella Mae could push her arms into the sleeves. “Hold still, and I’ll do up the buttons,” she offered.
“Of course,” Ella Mae replied, unaware General had snuck out from beneath the bed and was hiding under the crinoline. “You never said what you did during your trip to Dubuque.” From the moment her parents had returned home the noon before, she could tell they had enjoyed their time together. Her mother’s color had been high during dinner, and she had caught her father staring at her when his attention was usually on his food.
Emma tittered. “Truth be told, I didn’t see anything of Dubuque. I only had eyes for your father,” she claimed.
Ella Mae turned her head so her chin rested on her shoulder. “I could say the same about him for you during dinner this evening. Whatever did you do to that poor man?” she asked, grinning. “He’s positively in love with you.”
“He is indeed. And I am in love with him, even after all these years,” Emma admitted. She finished the last button and moved to stand in front of her daughter. “I do hope that sooner rather than later, you, too, will love a man as much as I love him,” she whispered.
Ella Mae dipped her head. “What if... what if I already like someone enough to think that I might love him someday?”
Emma’s eyes rounded. “Do you? Like someone, I mean?”
Lifting a shoulder, Ella Mae hesitated to respond. “Oh, I do, I suppose. We have known one another practically our entire lives, but it’s only been lately that I think he could be more than an acquaintance. More than a friend.”
“Then... what has you so concerned?”
Ella Mae sighed. “I fear he may not be good enough in Father’s eyes,” she whispered. “He’s not wealthy.”
“Neither was your father.” Wincing at hearing her words aloud, Emma sat on the edge of the bed and allowed a long sigh. “I know you will want him to approve, but you will have to follow your heart first and foremost.”
“Did you? Follow your heart. Mother?”
Emma stared at her daughter for a few moments, her gaze on her mind’s eye. “I don’t think I was completely in love with him that first day, but... I think I was by the end of the second.”
“Mother,” Ella Mae scolded. “He loved you from the start. Or so he claims.”
Tittering, Emma blushed. “So he claims,” she repeated, arching a brow. “You can be sure we were thoroughly in love with one another when we married,” she stated.
Ella Mae regarded her reflection in the cheval mirror. “This does look as if it would make the perfect wedding gown,” she murmured.
“Well, if not a bride, then who… or what exactly… are you going to be this evening?” her mother asked, rising from the bed to admire the gown. The white-on-white roses woven into the surface of the fabric appeared to shimmer like satin, while the background looked to be silk.
Ella Mae turned to face her bureau and pulled a flat package from the top. “An angel,,” she replied. “These are my wings, and there’s a halo here, too. Father ordered them for me.” She unwrapped a set of small wired wings, unfolding them before allowing their attached lengths of ribbon to dangle from where they were joined in the middle. Rows of goose feathers had been stitched to the satin fabric made stiff by the wire inserts.
Emma inhaled softly. “I’m quite jealous,” she murmured. “The gown for my come-out wasn’t nearly this nice,” she claimed, taking the wings from her daughter and placing them at her back. She threaded the ribbons around the tops of Ella Mae’s shoulders and then under her arms, tying the ends together at her back before hiding the knot behind the wings. “Can you move your arms?”
Ella Mae held them up and out, pantomiming how she would hold them during a dance. “They work,” she said happily.
“They had better. They cost enough,” her father said from the doorway. Despite his comment, he was grinning as he leaned against the jamb, his arms crossed over attire similar to what a member of the landed gentry might have worn when the country was founded. His gaze swept over her and then went to his wife, who was dressed in a royal blue gown from the prior century, her hair mostly covered with a white mobcap. “There should be a halo with those wings,” he added.
Emma unwrapped tissue from around a yellow painted halo. Attached to it was a wire that protruded from a headband adorned with hair combs. She studied the flattened ornament before realizing she needed to bend the head support so the halo would appear to hover over its wearer’s head. She inserted the combs into Ella Mae’s coiffure and then stepped back to regard her daughter with a sad expression. “My little angel,” she murmured, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
“Mother,” Ella Mae scolded, at the same moment Bobby appeared next to his father.
“Ugh. I’m so glad I don’t have to go,” he announced, his face screwed into a grimace.
“Just you wait, young man,” Emma warned. “A few years from now, you’ll be dressing like a dandy so you can dance with Sarah Watkins.”
“Eww,” he replied, his eyes wide with horror. He disappeared into his bedchamber as his parents chuckled.
“The curricle is ready. Let’s be on our way,” Robert said, offering his arm to his wife. She took it, and the three of them made their way down the steps and to the equipage.
No one noticed that both General and Admiral had joined them in the curricle.