Chapter Thirty-Four - Something Old, Something New
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Something Old, Something New
CHAOS ABOUNDED AT Blackthorn Hall and Rosamund was the eye of the storm as her chosen family whirled around her.
“Where is my wreath?”
“How did you lose it again?”
“I need another pin here; this curl won’t stay in place.”
“It’s too itchy Lady!”
“There’s a box on the dresser.”
“Found it!”
“Gnash not going. Too itchy.”
“Oh bother! It was under the cushion! It’s all flattened!”
“Tomas says we need to go soon; the horses are getting nervous.”
“Take a spare one from the box.”
“The horses or Dorian, Mrs Hawthorn?”
“TOO ITCHY!”
Rosamund scooped up the passing goblin. Elira tutted behind her where she stood precariously on a small stool arranging her veil.
“Hold still,” chastised Elira, the words coming out easily despite her frustration at Rosamund’s fidgeting.
“Sorry,” said Rosamund and Gnash at once, both freezing in place.
“I still say there’s going to be panic when the court see Gnash at the wedding,” said Marianne from where she sat, Isolde behind her, arranging the flattened wreath of flowers in her hair.
“But they won’t, will they?” said Rosamund as she looked at the goblin in her arms.
Gnash gave her a wide toothy grin before continuing to struggle with the high collar of his silver and green outfit.
She had been unable to refuse him the chance to come with them.
Not for this. Dorian had argued against it, but she had won in the end, and Gnash had become a flower goblin.
He had been most pleased with his promotion.
He had been less pleased with his outfit.
“It’s not the goblin I’m worried about,” said Isolde through the pins in her mouth, which she removed to fix Marianne’s wreath in place, “I’m not sure Celeste or Seraphine will ever forgive you for making your own plans.”
“They weren’t on her own,” said Elswyth’s calming voice, “she had oversight from a wife of superior rank.”
Rosamund smiled warmly as the older woman came forward with her silver clasp.
She handed it to Elira, who immediately set to work fixing it in place amongst her curls which hung loose down her back under the white veil.
Fabricio had embroidered emerald vines along the edge of the gauze, her ivory silk skirts and bodice.
The way it caught the light made her smile, especially when she saw the touch of claret and cobalt within the sleeves, hidden away, as usual.
Elswyth rearranged the front of the veil, and Rosamund beamed up at her.
In the month since the trial Elswyth had recovered well.
She was already working on turning the fortunes of the Velvet Tide around.
It would take time, and a lot of work, but Dorian had offered his sister-in-law whatever she needed to allow the district to prosper.
Though, thinking of her alone in Tidehall had sent a chill through Rosamund.
She had begged Elswyth to come stay with them, or with Isolde and Aurelian, but the princess refused.
Thankfully, she had purchased her own home rather than living in the palace.
When Rosamund had visited the beautiful townhouse Elswyth had said, “The Velvet Tide is my home, they need to see me there. Especially now.”
The green and silver dress Fabricio had made for her looked very well on her, as it did for Marianne and Isolde as well.
He had outdone himself and had been shocked to receive his own invite to the wedding.
As a merchant, to be invited to such an event showed great favour, though he would not be the only non-noble in attendance.
She and Dorian had made sure of that. Though the elder wives may take her planning as a snub, she made mental note to make it up to them later.
Particularly Seraphine. She had not forgotten her conversation with Luceran at the trial.
“Nervous?” asked Elswyth, pulling her from her slipping thoughts.
“Not at all,” lied Rosamund.
Elswyth gave her arm a gentle squeeze, “you look beautiful.”
The older woman discreetly handed her a silk handkerchief as Rosamund dabbed at her eyes.
She had been slipping between unbound joy and bittersweet happiness since she had awoken that morning to Gnash and the delighted squeals of the others.
As Elswyth fixed the necklace with her father’s ring she thought of her mother.
As graceful and elegant as the woman in front of her.
It should have been her putting on her jewellery.
When she looked at Marianne and Isolde, dressed in the same light green dresses, she thought of Evelyne.
It should have been her golden hair that was having a wreath woven through it.
Her aunts should be bustling in the background, tutting and offering up their unsolicited opinions.
Her brothers calling for them to be ready, pounding at the door, laughing and joking.
They should be here…
She looked to Gnash where he was still pulling at the lace of his collar and thought of the cousin she had lost. Todric had also despised lace, and she smiled fondly at the goblin.
They had discussed whether they should send for her aunts and had agreed it would be safer for them to remain in the Umbral.
Roland had been sent to join them, it being too dangerous to keep him within the city.
She had held him tightly and promised him that they would come visit as soon as they were able.
Dorian had suggested they travel to his region following the wedding as a kind of ‘honeymoon’, to escape the scrutiny of his family for a while. She had wholeheartedly agreed.
There was a melodic tap on the door and Emrys voice carried through, “Ladies, I beg of you. We must depart or else I fear Prince Dorian will think you have absconded.”
Another flurry of activity followed, with Marianne shrieking that she could not find the bouquet, whilst Isolde brusquely told her to calm down.
Rosamund only laughed as she carefully headed towards the door, arm in arm with Elswyth.
She had been delighted to see Marianne come out of her shell in the month since the wedding.
She was more vocal at the salons, and from what she could discern actually spoke to her husband.
Things were still awkward between them, but there was progress.
With Bastian removed to the Celestine Palace indefinitely, Osric seemed freer himself, more confident, though it was clear that Dorian still terrified him.
Isolde held the found bouquet aloft victoriously and rushed it towards Rosamund, a cheerful smile on her face.
Her and Emrys shared a warm look as she opened the door.
Rosamund still was not certain what arrangement they and Aurelian had, but whatever it was had appeared strained since the trial.
Emrys had spent more and more time at Blackthorn Hall since the trial, something that Isolde was concerned about, “Aurelian has been in a morose mood all month. He gets that way when Emrys is gone. Emrys is the only one he’ll really listen too when he’s like that. They’ll figure it out, they always do.”
Rosamund had wanted to know more, but had restrained herself, not wanting to pry too much.
Though whatever tension had risen between knight and prince did not affect the princesses relationship with Emrys.
The two seemed closer than ever as they walked arm in arm on their way to the carriages.
The amber eyed knight had been surprised when Rosamund suggested that he join her wedding party.
Unorthodox as it was, he had readily accepted, and she noted how well the silver and emerald silk looked against his brown skin.
Rowan unfurled a large parasol before Rosamund stepped out into the fresh air, Marianne and Elswyth gathering up her skirts so that they did not trail on the rain-soaked steps.
Together, they helped her into the carriage, carefully arranging the silk so that it would not crease.
The dress took up most of the space in the carriage.
“I’ll ride with the rest of them and meet you there,” said Emrys when he saw there was no space for him, stopping to lift the goblin that had tried to traipse in behind her.
In the absence of her father she had asked the knight to give her away.
He had suggested that one of the other prince’s might be more appropriate.
With a smirk he had even suggested that Sir Wulf might take up the task.
However, she had pointed out that the sandy haired knight would be ensuring Dorian did not back out.
She could think of no one better to give her away than the friend that had helped her free her betrothed.
The carriage began to roll forward and soon she lost herself to the steady swaying of it.
Her hand reached for the ring on the chain around her neck and thought of her father.
He would have been the one sat with her now, keeping her calm, making her laugh.
There was so much she had not known about him, so many secrets that he had kept from her and his family.
However, there was one thing she was certain of; he had loved her.
Had loved all of them, and she knew that he would have been happy for her this day. Even if she was marrying a Mordane.
The best of them.
She had been so lost in her memories of her father that it took her a moment to realise that the carriage had taken a diversion.
She frowned as she took in the unfamiliar district.
Though it was midday the limestone buildings with emerald slates were bathed in moonlight.
The streets were empty of people, the lights in the windows were dimmed.
Iron wrought owls stared down at her through wide eyes from shop signs, lampposts and gutters.
This was not Sunspire.
Rosamund reached up and knocked on the roof of the carriage, “Tomas? Where are we going?”