Chapter Nineteen
Sandrine stepped back to examine Francoise’s gown with a critical eye. Jane and her other assistants scurried around making sure every seam, every bit of lace, was perfect. The air was filled with the scent of roses, and sunshine seemed to fill every corner.
‘Can’t I look?’ Francoise cried. She stood very still with her back to the full-length mirror, waiting for Sandrine to tell her she could see the finished product. She almost danced in her satin slippers with eagerness.
Sandrine couldn’t help but smile. The joy of the day seemed to vibrate in the very light, like music.
Francoise couldn’t wait to walk down the aisle, with no sign of fear or nervousness, and her sheer happiness was so beautiful to see.
And her handsome husband-to-be, whom Sandrine had met at dinner when he arrived with the special licence for his nuptials, seemed just as happy, just as eager to finally be getting married.
‘Just one moment, Francoise,’ she said, and adjusted the short cap sleeve, making sure its embroidered trim lay at just the right angle.
She thought of her own wedding day, which felt so very long ago. She’d been so unsure then, so hopeful, and it had all fallen down around her. She could barely remember that girl now. Especially not on this, a very different wedding day.
‘Now?’ Francoise demanded.
Sandrine laughed. ‘Now!’
Francoise spun around, and gasped. She was so quiet and still for a long moment that Sandrine feared she was disappointed. That the gown was not enough.
She studied it even more critically, from every angle.
Created from the pale silver silk that shimmered and changed in the light, with touches of sky-blue ribbon and silver-embroidered lace, the hem flared on a ruffle and dotted with hand-painted blue flowers from the precious Marrakech pigments, it had made Sandrine think of the d’Alency family’s past in Versailles, as well as the sea-goddess outlines.
Was it too much? ‘Is it—all right? We do have some time, we could take some of this train off here, change the shoulders…’
‘Don’t touch any of it,’ Francoise whispered. ‘It is perfection.’
‘I helped with the ribbons,’ Marie said from her chair by the window, where she had been tasked with keeping her pale yellow organdie bridesmaid’s frock from getting creased. The sunlight shimmered on her glossy curls, bound with a wreath of rosebuds, the picture of adorableness.
‘They are the best part, chérie,’ Francoise said. ‘Your work is wondrous, Sandrine! A true dream.’
Sandrine clapped her hands. She wished so much her own day had been like this, but now she could make it so for other brides, other women. And she had remade her own life, too, to be everything she could want. It was all something to celebrate.
There was a quick knock at the door. ‘Francoise! We must leave for the church soon,’ Alain called.
The sound of his voice, even so impatient, made Sandrine smile. She quickly smoothed her own lapis-blue gown, and the thrill of the day overcame her.
‘Come in, Alain,’ Francoise sang.
He came in, watch in hand—and froze as he saw his sister there in her gown and lace veil. He looked at Sandrine, as if to say ‘you did this!’, and she nodded in delight. ‘You look so very beautiful, Francoise. A princess! No—a queen.’
‘It is all because of Sandrine and her magic,’ Francoise said. ‘And Marie’s ribbons!’ She picked up Marie from her chair and spun her around, making them both squeal with giggles.
Sandrine watched them, wondering if, at last, this was how having a real family felt. It brought such overwhelming joy, deep gratitude, and a sense of belonging she’d never had before. It felt like a quiet reassurance that she was no longer alone.
Alain reached for her hand as they watched Francoise and Marie laughing together, and she wondered if he felt the same.
As if the miles, the gulf, between them had mended and strengthened.
He offered his arm to her, and one to his sister, and Marie lifted her aunt’s train to process to the flower-bedecked carriage.
It felt like something new, and yet it was something so long wished-for that it also felt familiar. It felt like home.