Chapter Twenty

1911

Laurie stood for a second in Elsie’s reception room, wondering what exactly was “ridiculous”. He had hoped, secretly, that Elsie might have delayed herself a little longer and that he and Viola might have been able to clear the air a little. He was rather tired and quite bored of this feud. And it didn’t seem that Viola would be out of his life quickly — for God’s sake, they had to walk a three-year-old up the aisle soon, one on each side of Marigold, he presumed. It would not be good if they could only stare straight ahead at the altar with fury on their countenances, or look anywhere but at each other.

Also, he wasn’t sure anymore whether he actually disliked her as much as he had initially thought. It had grown old and become a habit. Today would have been ideal to corner the woman and get a few things straight.

Ah, well. Instead, he found himself climbing Elsie’s winding townhouse staircase and walking through a door into her huge salon. It wasn’t a room he’d been inside often. He’d witnessed, for example, Marigold sliding around the polished floorboards in her stockinged feet one day, but largely he was used to staying downstairs.

At one end of the room, Elsie had yet another easel and a lot of painting equipment — sensible, really, as the big windows let in a wonderful amount of light and looked over the garden; at the other, Elsie was standing holding her arms out to them dressed in, what he assumed, was her wedding gown. A small, nervous woman stood nearby, a tape measure around her neck and a table beside her that was covered in fabric, pins, bobbins of thread . . . everything a person would need to concoct such a gown.

‘What do you think?’ Elsie asked delightedly. ‘I have the best seamstress in the world. She can disguise a multitude of sins with this dress — I just adore it. I shall be forever grateful to Lucile Ltd. And I shall make a particular point of telling Lady Duff-Gordon how much I recommend her designs and her staff.’

‘Ohhhhh!’ breathed Viola. ‘Elsie! That’s top-hole! It’s wunnerful.’ Viola addressed the last comment to the seamstress who blushed prettily and smiled.

‘It’s been a pleasure,’ the lady said. ‘My favourite job of the year.’

The dress was fairly modest, high-necked with those big puffy sleeves that were all the rage now, and absolutely covered in white lace — tons and tons of the stuff. The waist was quite high, with a thick, white satin ribbon tied around it, making a huge, fat bow at the back, trailing ribbons down to the hem. The hem was just above Elsie’s ankle and she wiggled her toes as she saw Laurie’s gaze travel downwards.

‘I was thinking my hair up and something Christmassy for my headdress and bouquet,’ she said. ‘And look! I can do this after the ceremony!’ Deftly, she untied the sash and the dress transformed into a loose, sheath-sort-of dress. ‘So I can breathe,’ she informed them cheerfully.

‘So you can hide what you haven’t told any of us yet,’ Laurie said, leaning over and whispering in her ear. ‘Hence the rush.’

Elsie just laughed, although she did colour slightly. ‘Oh, Laurie. You amuse me. Quite. Anyway. Do you like it? As I say, my designer has been the soul of discretion and most accommodating.’

As accommodating as your dress needs to be , thought Laurie wryly.

His sister turned slowly, giving them the benefit of the lace confection. The dress was also studded, Laurie could see now, with tiny crystals that caught the wintery light and would catch the candlelight in the church even more. ‘I think I’m going to get another layer of tulle on it as well, just to give it a bit more structure,’ she said thoughtfully, plucking at the end of the ribbon strung now between her hands. ‘Make it . . . puff . . . out a bit.’ She indicated the skirt. ‘In fact, maybe that puffy layer can be separate? So I can get rid of that as well as the sash afterwards.’

‘Oh, like an overskirt?’ said Viola. Laurie shot a look at her and saw that she was entranced. Her eyes were wide and excited, her hands clasped in front of her chin in an attitude more suited to Medora than Viola.

‘ Exactly like an overskirt.’ Elsie nodded as if all that was decided, thank you very much, and smiled at them. ‘I’m going to wriggle out of this now.’ She nodded to a screen with another garment thrown over the top, and headed behind it. The seamstress followed her, and, after a few moments, Elsie re-emerged with a sort of wrapper dress on, belted around her middle, looking like her normal self and not some sort of fairytale princess. It had been a shock for Laurie to see her in white, to be honest — but the wrapper dress was black, as per usual for Elsie’s wardrobe.

‘Thank you so much,’ she told the seamstress, who was now swamped with armfuls of fabric but wore a huge smile on her face. ‘I’ll ring for someone to come and help you tidy up, then ask them to take you down for a cup of tea and a biscuit as a thank you before the hansom cab comes for you.’

‘Very good, Lady Elsie,’ replied the seamstress and bustled off to her table.

Elsie turned to Laurie and Viola. ‘Marigold is at Lily and Edwin’s with Nanny, and Louis is working, so it’s just us three. Could I tempt you into a hot cup of tea yourselves?’

‘Thank you, that would be wunnerful ,’ said Viola.

‘I’m in no real hurry,’ said Laurie, and gestured for the women to go ahead of him. What he really wanted to say, though, was, ‘Elsie, why on earth did you bring us here together?’ Because he had the feeling that that excuse for the viewing of the dress was simply a ruse.

* * *

Once they were settled back in Elsie’s reception room, with Elsie sitting back in her chair, bare feet on the table as usual, Viola was desperate to ask why indeed Elsie had felt it fitting to bring both herself and Laurie to her house today, to see a dress which clearly wasn’t even finished.

But before she could ask, Laurie asked the question for her. But in a very subtle way, which she had to give him credit for.

‘El,’ he said. ‘A question, if I may.’

‘Oh, of course!’ replied Elsie.

‘I think I speak for Viola as well, when I ask — why us ?’

‘Why you what?’ Elsie was overly innocent.

‘Why did you ask us to come and see your dress — for all of five minutes. We’ve trekked halfway across London in the snow, and, actually, I don’t really know why I did, or why you asked us?’ Laurie blinked, looking confused and — Viola hated to admit it — terribly attractive.

To divert her attention, Viola chanced a glance out of the window. The snow was falling more thickly now. She was glad of the hot drink her hands were wrapped around.

‘Well, the viewing of my dress only took a few minutes, granted, but you did spend a few more minutes downstairs here, did you not? On your own?’

‘Elsie!’ Laurie sounded horrified. ‘I knew it — you planned that delay, didn’t you. Vile sibling!’

‘Perhaps. Really, I just need to make sure you two are happy in each other’s company before you escort my daughter down the aisle at my wedding. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. There is a definite frisson when you two are together and—’

‘And nothing, Elsie!’ He clattered his cup down onto the tray and stood up. ‘Viola and I are perfectly capable of deciding when we speak to one another, and, even, if we speak to one another. We don’t need you creating drama and talking about “frissons”.’ He cast a glance at Viola. ‘If we want to walk down that damned aisle in a frosty silence, then . . . So. Be. It.’

‘Laurie!’ Elsie actually looked a little startled — a look Viola had never seen on her before. It made her look rather young and rather vulnerable. ‘I’m only trying to . . .’

‘To make sure we don’t spoil your wedding. I know. Well, here it is, El. We won’t. But we don’t need you to manipulate us, thank you very much. We are both adults, and, well, we don’t even like each other that much. You can blame being emotional, or whatever it is you want to blame, or the fact you’re in an interesting condition — you know, the condition we don’t know about yet — but please don’t treat us like idiots. I’ll see you soon, no doubt. Goodbye for now — and I want no more invitations to see your dress or to be thrown together with Miss Arthur at any point before the wedding. Understood?’

He gave a short bow and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

‘Well now.’ Elsie stared after him. She pulled herself together, placed her cup and saucer neatly on the tray next to Laurie’s abandoned one, and looked at Viola. ‘If that doesn’t prove there’s a frisson there — I honestly don’t know what will!’

Viola wasn’t quite sure what to say next, so she took another sip of her tea. ‘I’m not sure about a frisson,’ she said eventually. ‘But I do know we are both stubborn creatures and nothing and nobody will make us do anything we don’t want to do. But you have my word as well — I promise we won’t spoil the wedding. And, for what it’s worth, I adored coming to see your wedding dress and I can’t wait to wear my bridesmaid one!’

‘The final fitting for that is a few days before the wedding, isn’t it?’ said Elsie. ‘In case you’ve ballooned or shrunk terribly since we took the measurements, I assume.’

‘I won’t be doing either of those things!’

‘I might be ballooning.’ Elsie looked down and patted her stomach. ‘I’m eating far too much right now. We will see. Regardless, do you know why I chose so many of you as bridesmaids?’ She grinned at Viola, the cross words of her brother apparently forgotten or passed over.

‘Because you have a large number of sisters and cousins and friends’ daughters?’ Viola knew that Isolde, Medora, the four cousins from Wheal Mount and Lily’s daughter Evie were part of Elsie’s day. They’d all exchanged delighted letters comparing their dresses and had met up for one gloriously exciting day in London, at Lily’s beautiful home, for the seamstresses to work their magic. They were to be dressed in reds, greens and golds, the men escorting them in matching cravats. And Biscuit, of course, had his own cravat — gold, to match Medora’s outfit.

Elsie nodded. ‘That is part of it. But also, because so many people think I am a witch, I need to confuse the evil spirits who may come to the wedding. Traditionally, you’d all wear veils so they kidnapped one of you instead of me.’ She shot a smile at Viola. ‘But your faces are far too pretty for that and I am not having you all in white, although some people think that is the done thing to do!’ She paused while she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought of the “done thing”. ‘So, yes. Quite.’ Then she slumped in her chair a little. ‘But Laurie . . .’ She shook her head. The conversation was not forgotten, then. ‘Quite.’ She was silent and stared at her cup.

Viola leaned over, put her cup on the tray and patted Elsie’s hand. ‘I’m sure we will behave ourselves on the day,’ she said, crossing her fingers out of sight of Elsie. ‘Trust us.’

Elsie studied her for a moment. ‘I wish I could,’ she said. ‘But not in the way you say, for behaving yourselves on the day, I mean. I know you’ll do that. I just wish I could trust you to see what we all see.’ She smiled at Viola, then shrugged. ‘Ah, well.’ She patted her stomach again and this time let her hand lie on the folds of her loose wrapper dress. To Viola’s shock, she saw a little rounding of Elsie’s stomach. Laurie’s suppositions were possibly true, then! ‘Put that down to the ramblings of an overly emotional woman and ignore me. Crazy Elsie, the eccentric one of the family. I may as well be a fantasist. People think I am anyway.’

‘Normal is overrated,’ said Viola with a smile. ‘I’m leaving now — you get some rest before Louis and Marigold come back. Guess you might need some after all that excitement over your gown!’

‘Guess I won’t be able to rest,’ said Elsie with a smile. ‘You know me, can’t sit still for a minute. No, I’ll go up to the salon and throw paint around. It’s the only remedy for me.’ She stood up and held her hand out to Viola, who took it and allowed herself to be helped to her feet. ‘I will see you very soon , Viola.’

‘On the morning of the twenty-second, if not before,’ replied Viola. ‘How utterly exciting.’

‘I’ll see you before that — at the rehearsal! Oh, I can’t wait!’ Elsie clapped her hands.

The two women walked to the door and, Elsie being Elsie, opened it for Viola, without summoning a maid or a butler or anyone in between. Elsie peeped out of the door and shivered at the sight of the thickly falling snow, which now blanketed the square and had turned the trees and bushes in the park into weirdly rounded humps and bumps. ‘Yes. Definitely the salon. Get a good fire going in there and I’ll be happy for the rest of the day.’

‘Enjoy, darling.’ Viola stepped outside and took a deep breath. She did love the snow. Being from New York it was nothing new to her, but she was very happy to be experiencing snow here in London as well.

Wunnerful!

Although . . .

She tilted her head up, closed her eyes and stuck her tongue out, catching a small herd of snowflakes as they drifted down over the heavy sky.

Then she opened her eyes, stood on the step and stared around her at the winter wonderland. Beautiful though this was, and despite how exciting Elsie’s upcoming wedding was — and of course how welcome the chance would be to wear her absolutely beautiful bridesmaid’s gown . . . there was one thing that she really wished for this Christmas — one secret wish that she dared not utter to a soul.

No. She shook herself, tucked her hands firmly into her hand muff and stepped off onto the pavement. She wasn’t even going to allow herself to think about that.

When she was small, Pearl had encouraged her to make a wish on the first snowfall of the season. It had to be her heart’s desire, Pearl would tell her seriously. Two little girls, peering out of a New York townhouse and wishing for pretty dolls, or sweet treats or a new dress for the next party they’d go to.

The wishes had always worked, funnily enough.

But this time, no. She wouldn’t allow herself to go there, even though last night she’d seen the most perfect winter star in the sky and been so very tempted to wish right there and then as well.

And was it her heart’s desire? Maybe.

And might it come true? Again, maybe.

But she wasn’t going to verbalise that wish for anyone .

No siree!