Chapter 14
It was funny how quickly things changed.
Just one day ago, all Ophelia cared about was her garden project.
She’d poured days of effort into it, using it as a means to find purpose in her new life.
Yes, she knew that it was more of a means to an end, a way to distract from the stagnation that was her married life while her husband did everything he could to ignore his new circumstance.
Nonetheless, she enjoyed the distraction, the project, and what it might lead to. Just as she had looked forward to completing it. When she started, she had doubted that there was anything which might force her attention away, because she was not one to start a project without seeing it through.
At least that was how things had been…
One day later, Ophelia no longer cared as she had once done about her garden project.
Oh sure, she knew that she would finish it eventually, just as she knew that she would one day turn her attention toward the interior of the manor as she slowly transformed the home into one that she felt comfortable in. But for now, it would have to wait.
“I have sent word ahead,” Mr. Watley explained as Ophelia walked across the foyer, the front door in sight. “They are expecting you.”
“Wonderful,” she said. “And thank you.”
“It is my duty, Your Grace,” he told her as he rushed forward and opened the door for her. “And as already explained, there is no limit to what you might wish to purchase today. The modiste knows of your wants and your needs, as she knows that His Grace will cover all costs.”
“I am thrilled to hear it.”
“I did ask if he wished to join you,” the butler continued as he followed her outside. “Alas, he is busy.”
She chuckled. “I was not expecting it, Mr. Watley. I am just pleased that he has given his blessing.”
“I am sending Charles with you.” He indicated down the driveway where a carriage sat waiting. “If you need anything, he will happily oblige.”
“I am sure I will be fine.”
They walked to the carriage together, where Charles, one of the manor’s servants, opened the door for her.
He was young, energetic, and his smile was the type that showed off every single tooth inside his mouth.
He would be Ophelia’s chaperone, as it was not proper for a young woman to travel by herself.
“Happy shopping,” Mr. Watley said as she climbed into the carriage. “I look forward to seeing what you purchase.”
“As am I,” she said truthfully, and with a generous smile. “As am I.”
Mr. Watley closed the door, and the carriage started down the driveway and into London.
Last evening, when Adrian had told Ophelia that he expected them to start attending social events together, a small part of her had wondered if he was just saying what he thought he must and that the next day, her husband would revert to his same emotionally distance self.
As it turned out, their serendipitous meeting in the kitchen was as significant as she had hoped, a true step forward in their relationship. And certainly not the last step either.
It was as Ophelia broke her fast that Adrian found her, explaining quickly and without inflection that if they were to attend balls and galas together as man and wife, that she needed to look the part.
What was more, it seemed as if he already knew which they would first attend, and thus it was imperative that she be ready.
“Whatever it is that you have planned for today, it will have to wait,” he told her. “If we are to be seen in public together, there must be no question that our marriage is real and without incident. You will require a gown…” He looked down at her. “Several, I think.”
“Oh.” She had blinked in surprise. “I… I do not have any gowns, Adrian. Perhaps I can send word to my father, as he will have some of my mother’s old gowns from before she passed away.”
“Do not be silly,” he said. “Your gowns will be your own. Made for you especially, tailored to suit, and befitting of your status as my wife.”
“What do you have in mind…”
He made the preparations himself, sending ahead to a modiste that he knew to be highly recommend, warning that she would be attending later to be fitted for a new wardrobe. It was not a question but a demand, and Ophelia was happy to take it.
It was slowly done. It was not always easy. But Adrian was accepting their marriage, as well as doing everything he could to make Ophelia feel welcome.
“Here we are…” Charles spoke up as the carriage came to a steady halt by the side of the road.
Ophelia looked out the window, noting that they were somewhere in London, but she could not say where exactly. What she could say was that she had been brought directly to the storefront of a modiste, as she saw immediately the dresses in the window.
“How fun,” she beamed as she shuffled toward the carriage door. “Charles, you may wait in here for me.”
“Oh.” He hesitated. “Mr. Watley said that I was to –”
“I will be quite fine,” she assured him with a soft chuckle. “But this is lady’s business, Charles. I would hate to bore you with you.”
He was clearly not comfortable with letting her out of his sight, but he did not argue. What he did do was help her from the carriage and then open the front door of the modiste as she walked inside.
“Your Grace!” The modiste was an elderly lady who was so short that she only just reached Ophelia’s shoulders. But her smile was the type that took over half her face, and her eyes were light green and expressive. “Welcome, welcome. Please, come in.”
“Oh, you know who I am?” Ophelia asked in surprise.
“Of course,” she said. “I have been expecting you. However…” She grimaced apologetically.
“It should be known that on such occasions as this, I will always insist on closing the store so that we would not be disturbed. Alas, His Grace’s message arrived at such a time that I was expecting another today. ”
“That would be me.”
Ophelia looked across the store and found who had spoken.
She stood on a stool, her gown filled with pins and various swathes of material.
Of a similar age to Ophelia, her hair was onyx, thick and flowing down her back, while her skin was as white as milk.
Tall and lithe of body, her features were sharp, while her dark eyes matched the friendly smile that took her face.
Ophelia had never seen her before, she knew nothing of the young lady, but the moment that she saw her standing there, she got the sense that she was a kind soul and someone whom Ophelia might like.
“I do apologize, Your Grace,” the young woman said. “Had I known that you were coming, I would never have dreamed of interfering.”
“There is nothing to apologize for,” Ophelia told her. “If anything, I should be apologizing to you. It sounds as if I am the one interrupting here.”
“Not at all!”
“Shall we agree that neither of us ought to apologize? If anything, I am even a little relieved. It always does well to have a second opinion…” She eyed the modiste with a smirk. “From someone who is not trying to sell me something.”
The young lady laughed. “I could not agree more.”
“My name is Ophelia…” Ophelia crossed toward her.
“Oh, I know who you are,” the young lady said. “You may call me Adelaide. If titles are required, the Viscountess Nightingale is what most know me as. But I would rather we not bother with formalities.”
Ophelia beamed. “I could not have said it better myself, so I will not try. Adelaide, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Indeed, it was. Adelaide was the type who seemed to inspire cheer around her. Always smiling. Always joking. And she did not take herself seriously. She hopped down from the stool and rushed to Ophelia, giving her a hug as if they were old friends.
Ophelia accepted the hug, perhaps relishing it a little too much because it had been so long since anyone had shown her such affection. Especially when they did not want something in return.
“Yes, yes,” the modiste waved them down. “I am glad that we can agree there is nothing here to worry us. But shall we begin?”
“I would love to,” Ophelia began, only to grimace and withdraw with embarrassment as she looked around the store. “Only, I am a little embarrassed to say, but I do not know where. This is all rather new to me.”
“Oh!” Adelaide took her hand. “Let me show you. With your coloring…” She bit into her lip. “Yes, yes. I know exactly what will work. Come now, let us find some samples.”
Ophelia allowed the young woman to guide her across the store, just as she allowed her to choose a variety of swathes in various shades and colors.
They went through a dozen different designs after that, giggling together as they picked those that they thought would suit, and then she joined Adelaide on a stool so the modiste could get to work.
As she did, Ophelia and Adelaide spoke like old friends.
Better still, their conversation was not of a personal nature, and Adelaide did not seem that interested in Adrian or her marriage to him. She chatted freely, quickly, jumping from topic to topic.
Ophelia added her own thoughts here and there, made jokes, agreed and even argued on some things. But it was always done lightly, and not once did she get the sense that Adelaide wanted anything more than a friend.
A friend… I had almost forgotten what that felt like.
“I take it you are attending Lord Ironvale’s ball tomorrow evening?” Adelaide asked her at one point. “As am I,” she sighed and let her shoulders slump. “Not something I look forward to but expectations and all.”
Ophelia laughed. “Oh yes, I will be there with my husband.”
“I hope to meet him.”
“You will,” she said. “At the very least, if tomorrow evening proves to be the worst of things, you can always find me. I’ll do my best to keep you entertained.”
“You better,” Adelaide said. “Do not even think of taking back your promise, Ophelia!”
Ophelia laughed. “Definitely not. And the same goes for you.”
It was such a small thing, truly not that significant at all. But as Ophelia chatted away with Adelaide, she knew that she had just made a new friend, her first in longer than she dared to consider.
Like the garden, like the upcoming ball, and like Adrian’s slow but steady change, her life was starting to find a steady footing. And for the first time in years, Ophelia felt truly happy with her place, daring to dream that her future, what might come next, would continue to improve.