CHAPTER SEVEN
"Matters have improved with Margery, I hope," Isabel said as she stepped inside.
Constance, who was sitting at the work-table, looked up with a smile that made Isabel's breath catch.
Not only because it was beautiful - although it was, with Constance's apple cheeks dimpled and rosy and her wide mouth curled up at the corners while her eyes crinkled with well-worn laugh lines - but because it was friendly.
No, not friendly: welcoming. Like she was truly happy to see Isabel there.
How many people were happy when they saw Isabel coming?
And how many would make Isabel feel so unaccountably lightened upon seeing them smile?
"They're as well as may be," Constance said, getting up from the table and catching Isabel's hand to squeeze it.
"That is to say, she's not come knocking on my door since last time, and I count that a good sign.
" She laughed. "When Margery and Tom - he's the second oldest - were small, I remember Matilda telling me that she knew something was wrong when they were quiet for too long.
Now I'm grateful when Margery makes no fuss for a few days. Do I have it backwards?"
Isabel shrugged, feeling her face bloom into an answering smile.
It was impossible not to, with Constance: happiness flew from her and alit on Isabel like a bird on a branch.
"I don't often let Walter out of my sight long enough for him to get into mischief.
But when my nieces are quiet, I count it a blessing, since it means I've time to myself.
And they're nearly of an age with Margery - so no, I don't believe you're mistaken. "
"I defer to your wisdom, then," Constance said, still laughing.
She laughed so much, so easily. "I've the wedding dress nearly finished - not the sleeves just yet, I didn't wish to sew them on until we were certain that the armscyes fit - but Leah's sent word she won't be able to come and try it on until tomorrow.
Would you like to see it? You've seen the embroidery already, of course, but I imagine it looks different once it's all put together. "
"I would." Isabel glanced around. "Where is it?
" She did not see the dress spread out across the table - understandably, as something so precious ought not be exposed to all and sundry, ready prey for spills or grubby fingers or rough handling.
But she couldn't think where Constance would have put it instead. Upstairs, perhaps?
Constance nodded, giving Isabel's hand a slight tug.
Her meaning escaped Isabel for a moment, then she realized: she was leading her into the bedroom.
She felt her face flush, then a surge of shame for the flushing, and then more blood rushing to her face for the shame of it.
She was being foolish. She had been in that bedroom before, and Constance had clearly felt no compunction about letting Isabel into her private chambers.
But it still felt intimate in a way that she could not - and did not wish to - quantify.
"There," Constance said once they were inside. She did not, Isabel noted, drop her hand. "I'll tidy up the stitches once we're certain of the fit, of course, but I thought this would at least give us an idea of the shape. What do you think?"
For a moment, Isabel did not think at all; she only gawked.
She had, as Constance had said, seen the embroidery already - she had done the embroidery, carefully placing every stitch with a mind to the overall effect.
But that had been done piecemeal. Now, seeing the whole dress assembled, she could hardly keep her mouth from hanging open.
The vines she had embroidered around the hem and sleeve cuffs gleamed in the late afternoon light: she'd woven a single gold thread among the yellow, and when it caught the sun's rays just so, it split the air with rays of shining, burnished light.
She had been careful to place the embroidery around the cuffs level with the belt of twisting chains around the waist, so that they would blend into each other when Leah stood with her hands at her sides: now, seeing the dress laid out, she could tell that she'd succeeded in what she set out to do.
The deep green of the linen Leah had chosen put her in mind of a forest canopy, deep and dark enough that no sunlight could penetrate - and then the vines and chains flared to life and lit the whole dress up.
It was stunning just laying there, inert on the bed: she could hardly imagine what it would look like once it was actually on Leah.
"It's spectacular," Constance said softly beside her. Isabel had almost forgotten she was there. "You put the guild masters to shame, you truly do. If you ever chose to open a shop of your own, no other embroiderer in Linden would be able to compete."
Isabel tore her eyes away from the dress to look at Constance. She was smiling, soft-eyed and - proud? Yes, that was it. She was proud of her. What a strange thing to be.
"But there are no other embroiderers in Linden," she said. Her tongue felt thick and clumsy. She blinked, dropping her gaze back down to the dress. It seemed a safer place to rest her eyes. "So it makes no matter.”
Constance smiled and - finally - dropped her hand. Her fingers tingled like they'd fallen asleep. She flexed them, then clasped her hands together in front of her. Probably it was better that way. The feeling would wear off eventually.
"Would you like to wear it?" Constance asked.
Isabel's head whipped up at the words, and her confusion must have shown on her face, for Constance shrugged.
"You're of a size with Leah, more or less.
It may help us see if adjustments need to be made.
" Her eyes sparkled. "Besides, I want to see it in motion.
It's hardly the same, just sitting there on the bed. "
Well, she was right about that, at least. Isabel looked back at the bed.
She did want to see the dress in motion - although wearing it herself would hardly offer that, unless Constance had somehow accumulated enough money for a mirror - and more than that, she wanted to see the look on Constance's face at the sight.
She wanted to prompt that shining pride in her eyes.
It was a foolish thing to want, and even more so to accede to. But it was what she wanted.
She wasn't accustomed to doing things just because she wanted to.
Constance had been a bad influence on her in that regard.
She ought to brush off the suggestion and be on her way - Walter was at Matthew and Elizabeth's, waiting for her to come and pick him up, and there was supper to be thought of.
Besides, she still had to embroider the second dress, which was a far more pressing task than giving in to vanity by trying this one on.
It wouldn't even give them a true idea of how the dress looked: only seeing it on Leah would do that.
Really, there was no reason to do it at all.
Except. Except that, for the first time in over a year, she did not have to rush home to Hilda, because Hilda wasn't there.
Ancelin had gone to Oxford on business, as he often did - but this time, Hilda had prevailed on him to bring her and the girls along.
They'd left two days ago, and would be gone for at least another fortnight.
Isabel had spent the first day without them simply luxuriating in the quiet of the household without anyone scolding or shouting at her, but now other possibilities were presenting themselves.
She could afford to take time for herself outside of the house - could afford to pass an afternoon here, basking in the warmth of Constance's smile.
She oughtn't, just on principle. It would not do for her to grow accustomed to this sort of luxury.
But she wanted to.
"All right," she said, before she had the chance to lose her nerve.
Constance's answering smile was everything she could have hoped for, and it left her warm all over, for all the day outside was cool.
Her hands went to the strings of her kirtle on instinct, then she hesitated.
She had been so taken up with convincing herself to stay that she hadn't considered the implications of changing into the dress itself.
It was one thing for Constance to take pride in Isabel's work.
It was another for Isabel to disrobe in front of her - even if she only stripped down to her shift, it was more of herself than she had willingly shown to anyone in years.
And her fingers were still tingling, an unwelcome reminder of feelings better left alone.
It was no great matter, for women to undress amongst themselves; but here, now, it felt positively alarming.
"I'll go out, if you'd rather," Constance said.
Isabel's stomach clenched. Was she so easily decoded, without her having said a word?
And was she so fragile - or did Constance see her so fragile, which might be worse - that she needed such gentle handling?
"But I'm afraid you'll need my assistance getting into the dress. It -"
"Laces up the back, I know," Isabel said.
The back lacing had been a request of Leah's, as she was going to be dressed by her mother and cousins on her wedding day and therefore did not need to worry about reaching the laces.
It had also left the bodice a blank canvas on which Isabel had been able to trace out a riot of pictures in thread.
She'd appreciated that, though the work had left her with a sore wrist and thrice-pricked fingers.
Now she wished Leah's taste had run more towards the shapeless and comfortable.
"I suppose you're right. It -" She took a deep breath. "It's no great matter."