Chapter 17
Della felt the mattress dip as if someone or something had joined her. Her eyelids were heavy, her vision blurred and unfocused as she slowly opened them.
“Good morning!”
“Ahhh!” Della jolted awake at the sound of another voice in her room.
“Oh, do calm down. It is just me. So, how did everything go after Mother and I left last night?” Maggie inquired, bouncing excitedly on the bed.
“Must we talk about right now?” Della asked groggily, rubbing her hands over her eyes.
“If not now, when?”
“Maybe when I have had the chance to get some more sleep and eat something?” Della pulled a pillow over her head to block out the sunlight.
A knock sounded, and Maggie bounded off the bed to see who it was.
“Mistress Tilly thought Miss Rowntree might be hungry when she woke and had me bring something up for her.”
Daisy, the housemaid, entered the room and set the silver tray down on the table by the fireplace.
“Thank you, I will take it from here,” Maggie said.
Daisy curtsied and shut the door quietly behind her.
“Well?” Della heard Maggie’s muffled voice through the pillow.
“Could I at least eat while we talk?” Della asked, throwing the pillow to the side of the bed.
“Of course!” Maggie nearly skipped to a chair by the fireplace and made herself comfortable. She poured two cups of tea, Della’s with cream and sugar and hers with just sugar.
Settling back into the seat, Maggie took a sip and sighed contentedly. Della laughed as she sat next to Maggie, perusing the assortment of food brought up for her.
She spread some butter and a good amount of jam on the toast she had selected, took a bite, and looked up to see Maggie staring over the rim of her teacup.
“I am not sure what you expect me to say,” Della said, taking one more bite of her toast before picking up her tea. “Royce brought me home as your mother asked.”
“And…” Maggie prompted.
“And we simply…talked,” Della said matter-of-factly. “I told him I knew of his agreement with my father.”
“Was he angry?”
“No, actually. Perhaps surprised, but not angry. He almost seemed…relieved.”
“That is good, I supposed. But how do you feel about marrying my brother?”
“Nervous? Scared? I fear what might already be circulating about last night.”
“Do not let anyone make you feel you are undeserving of being Royce’s wife. You deserve it more than any of the women who practically threw themselves at his feet.” Maggie said without hesitation, pulling Della in for a hug. “But I cannot believe you said nothing to me about Aden proposing! You had two men vying for your hand in one night—well, three if you count Lord Haddock.” Maggie grimaced. “I have had one in the past month, and my mother said no before I could.”
“You act as though I have achieved something great. I assure you, I have not.”
“When you mentioned needing to speak with Aden last night, is this what it was about?” Maggie asked, suddenly turning timid as she idly played with a lock of her hair.
Della regarded Maggie, remembering the dejected look on her face when the Duchess had inquired about an understanding with Aden in the future. Was it possible Maggie had some sort of affection for him?
She decided now was not the best time to discuss what was sure to be a sensitive subject, but thought it best to answer Maggie’s question honestly.
“Yes, I had decided to accept his proposal.”
“Why, when you have been holding out to marry someone you loved?”
“Because I thought about Royce’s agreement with my father, how he had plans of his own regarding his marriage to Miss Putnam. I did not want to be in his way any longer, nor did I want to turn down so many offers that I remained unmarried forever. Aden is a good friend to all of us. If one cannot marry for love, then a marriage based on friendship would be preferable to a marriage with someone you barely know or ending up alone.”
“I had not thought of marriage that way before,” Maggie said, looking at Della with a sad smile.
“I never got the chance to talk to Aden again until the incident in the study. Though he gave me a reason, I am still curious why he would ask me when there are far better choices than I.”
“He asked you because you are smart, beautiful, and kind.”
“As are you,” Della said.
Maggie smiled as though the returned sentiment made her uncomfortable and changed the subject. “The day is still young, and we have much to do. My mother and Tilly are downstairs, eager to start planning your wedding. They sent me to inform you the wedding will take place two weeks from today.”
“Two weeks?!” Della choked on her tea as her cup clattered against the saucer in her hands.
“Do not worry. I will be with you every step of the way!”
“That seems an awfully short time to plan a wedding.”
“Have you met my mother?” Maggie joked. “Now, let us get you dressed!”
“First and foremost, we need to see Madame Delphine for your trousseau and wedding dress. We will have to pay extra for the rush, with the wedding in two weeks, but I am sure she will accommodate us,” the Duchess said as she and Tilly looked over their lists.
Della marveled at the Duchess. Even though the Derrington household would soon be plunged into chaos, she remained calm and collected. Their lists included cleaning, dusting, counting the silver, and every other detail Della would not have thought of.
“Your Grace, this is all too much.” Della gestured to the lists.
“Nonsense! You are to become a duchess and should shout your new rank from the rooftops, announcing your arrival. You and Royce deserve no less,” the Duchess said.
“I agree.” Tilly nodded.
“B-But I…”
The Duchess held her hand up. “Della, you are my daughter now. I would not have one of the most important events in your life, or my son’s, be anything less than spectacular. I know this would have been an exciting day for your mother. Please, let me and Tilly do this for you…for her.” The Duchess discreetly wiped away a stray tear. “My husband would have said the same, were he here.”
Della smiled and simply nodded in silent acquiescence.
“Wonderful!” the Duchess exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Royce told me he would take a separate carriage and meet us outside Madame Delphine’s after he talks to your father about some last-minute arrangements and speaks with his solicitor.
“Ow!”
“Well, if you will stand still, ‘zen I will not stab you with ‘ze pin, mademoiselle.”
Della did her best not to fidget, but she had been a living pincushion for the past several hours and was growing restless. She could tell madame Delphine was growing weary of her constant movements.
“Et Voilà!” Madame Delphine smiled. “Pièce de résistance, oui?”
“Oui, Madame.” The Duchess looked at Della from head to toe. “Oh, Della, you look magnificent! Madame Delphine, you have outdone yourself! This will truly be a dress to remember. I cannot wait to see the finished piece!”
“Merci, Your Grace. I shall have my masterpiece finished by next week and her trousseau, of course.” A light tinkling of a bell rang in the distance, and Madame Delphine ran to the front to greet her customers.
The Duchess, Tilly, and Maggie excused themselves to look at some more fabric in another part of the store, leaving Della standing there alone in her wedding dress.
She always liked less ostentatious designs when choosing a dress, and this dress was the exact opposite. But she felt beautiful in it, the way the faint pink fabric shimmered and sparkled as the light bounced off the glass beading, the way it swayed elegantly as she walked.
“Please head to ‘ze back. I have your dress waiting for you.” Della heard Madame Delphine say.
As the curtain swayed open, Della felt a tightness in her throat as she beheld Miss Putnam’s eyes narrowing in anger, her face contorting with disgust at the sight of Della standing there in her wedding gown.
“I thought I was coming to the best modiste, but if she has you as a customer, then perhaps I was wrong.” Miss Putnam clucked her tongue. “Not the most flattering color on you, Miss Rowntree. Madame Delphine must have lowered her standards considerably to create this…well, I guess you could call it a dress,” she sneered, walking around Della.
“If this is what future duchesses are wearing, I had better thank my lucky stars I am not becoming a duchess after all. For I would not be caught wearing something such as that!”
“That is quite enough!” the Duchess’s voice said authoritatively from where she stood with Madame Delphine, Tilly, and Maggie. Miss Putnam paled. It was apparent she had not meant what she said to be heard by anyone other than Della.
“Madame D-Delphine, Y-Your Grace…My apologies. I did not see you standing there.”
“Well, ‘zat is quite clear.” Madame Delphine snorted indignantly. “Since my creations are so disgusting, ‘zen you will not be wanting ‘ze one you ordered.”
“Oh, but I-I…”
Miss Putnam was at a loss for words, and Della could see that she was on the verge of tears. She might have tried to present a hard exterior, but Della could sense the hurt that lay beneath. It must have been a heartbreaking experience to have your father inform you that you no longer had an understanding. To know the person who you were supposed to be engaged to was now engaged to someone else.
“Madame Delphine?” Della called out.
“Oui, mademoiselle?” Madame Delphine paused to look at Della.
“You would not want a gorgeous dress such as that—“ Della pointed at the lovely periwinkle dress trimmed with white lace flowers. ”—to go to waste. Despite her words, she would not have come to you were you not the best modiste this side of France. Please, allow her to purchase her dress. The words she spoke were meant for me, and rightfully so.” Della turned to face Miss Putnam. “I am sorry that I made your father angry and for any pain I may have caused you. I hope that with time, you may forgive me for my mistakes. However, if you cannot do so, I will understand and accept it gracefully.”
Della excused herself and went behind the curtain to change. Gathering all her items, she passed by Miss Putnam without another word, and made her way out to the carriage.
“Oh, Royce! There you are,” the Duchess said as they exited the modistes behind Della.
“I hope your outing was successful.” Royce smiled.
“It was! Della is going to make a lovely bride!” Tilly replied.
“Of that, I have no doubts.” Della blushed under Royce’s praise.
“Royce dear, Tilly and I must run next door to the milliner to pick up our hats. Would you mind waiting for us?” the Duchess asked.
“Of course. I have a shop I must go to as well,” Royce said.
“Perfect. Della and Maggie, you can take our carriage back. We will not be long.”
Maggie climbed into the carriage and Della was about to do the same when she felt a gentle hand placed on her shoulder.
“Della, before you go…”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
The Duchess leaned in close and whispered so that Royce could not hear her. “I just wanted to say how proud I am of you for how well you handled the situation with Miss Putnam.”
As if on cue, Miss Putnam exited the shop and, without saying a word, dipped into a quick curtsy and left.
The Duchess continued speaking as if nothing had happened. “Your response showed compassion for someone you believe you have wronged, which is the making of a true duchess. Well done, my dear.”
Della merely smiled and nodded before climbing into the carriage and sitting next to Maggie.
“We will not be far behind. See you at home,” the Duchess said before waving them off.
“I would not have been so gracious,” Maggie mumbled as she searched through the items she had purchased from town.
“But I have wronged her, Maggie. Surely you must have some sympathy for the position she is in.”
“Be that as it may, there is no reason one must be as horrible as she has been this season.”
“Has she been horrible to you?” Della asked.
“She has been horrible to everyone! Except my brother Grayson, apparently, though I cannot fathom why. He is always so serious,” she said, still searching through her purchases.
They sat silently for a while when they heard rain hitting the top of the carriage.
“Just when you think you get a break in the weather.” Maggie tsked. “When I marry, I will ask my husband to take me somewhere that always has sunshine. London’s weather is always so dreary. I—“
“Whoa, Whoa there!” they heard the driver yell.
The whinnying of the horses gave Della pause as the carriage lurched forward and they both grabbed onto the leather handles above them. Maggie pressed her face against the window, attempting to see what was going on, but tumbled into Della as the carriage careened around a sharp turn, barely balancing on two wheels before slamming back down to the ground.
“Hold on!” Maggie reached for the handle again, her voice lost in the clatter of the carriage doors flying open as it turned another corner.
With a loud snap, they saw a wheel fly off into the distance, and felt the carriage collapse to its side. The trees went by in a blur of green and Della tightened her grip on the leather handle, the rushing sound of wind filling her ears as the doors continued to swing open and closed. But when they hit a large hole in the road, her hands slipped, and Della felt her heart sink deep into her chest as she fell from the carriage.
Over and over, Della’s body rolled down the unforgiving road, causing waves of pain to shoot through her, until she eventually found herself lying in a large puddle of water. Her head ached, and her senses dulled as the rain continued its staccato rhythm upon her body, causing her dress to cling as though it were a second skin.
“Della!” The voices were faint, as though they came from a long distance. “Della!” she heard again.
“Send for help!” a deep voice commanded.
“Maggie?” Della mumbled as the sharp metallic taste of blood formed in her mouth.
“Shhh. Do not speak. Maggie will be okay, as will you. Please, stay awake,” the deep voice begged, and Della felt herself being lifted from the ground. “Stay with me!”
“Hurt too much,” Della murmured, attempting to do what the voice demanded. But the pain was more than she could bear, and she let herself slip into a dreamless sleep.