Chapter 26

C HAPTER 26

I dwell in possibility.

—Emily Dickinson

After a week of surreptitious rehearsing and avoiding Ellery Hatchet at all costs, the day of the Endicotts' dance finally dawned—gray, raw, and uninspiring. But not even the prospect of dirty weather could discourage Marigold. Tonight the firstfruits of her labor would fall ripe, and she had every confidence in her plan. Daisy and Seviah were ready for this test. If they could keep it secret.

The trio slipped away from the island in the afternoon under a bank of darker-than-usual clouds threatening rain, but the storm held off, and they arrived at Bessie Dove's boardinghouse safe and dry. Despite Isabella's hostess's offer of rooms at Plum Cove, Marigold had decided to stick to their original plan of staying at the boardinghouse for Seviah's sake—the young man would need Cab's help and guidance in getting dressed.

If Marigold had another reason for wanting to spend the night nearer Cab, away from Isabella's all-seeing eyes, she kept that entirely to herself.

"I got your rooms all ready, child—two, for you and Miss Daisy, upstairs, and another for Mr. Seviah downstairs with the other gentlemen. And I got those dresses Mrs. Dana sent over all pressed out and hanging up ready for you. And Mr. Cox's suit for Mr. Seviah too."

"Thank you. You are a godsend, Bessie."

"Oh, you come on." Bessie led the way up the stairs. "Those dresses are just about the prettiest things I ever did see. You girls are going to look finer than anyone else in the whole of the town."

"Not everyone else, I hope." Upsetting the unspoken but ironclad social hierarchy of society would not endear Daisy to their hostess.

But Marigold need not have worried—Isabella had more than justified her faith. Daisy's dress was in a sweeping, unstructured style Marigold had not seen before. The puffed sleeves were fashioned entirely of extraordinary cream-colored lace that extended over the satin bodice and down the skirt, where pastel-colored chin é cutwork flowers were carefully sewn into the silk, making the dress into a pastel trellis of hand-painted blossoms. "Daisy will look as fresh and dewy as a rose in a garden."

"She sure will," Bessie agreed. "But I'm more partial to yours."

Marigold had given Isabella strict limits on her own gown, dictating that the dress be plain, as would befit her position of chaperone to her cousin. But Isabella clearly had her own ideas, because she had taken Marigold's stated preference for unadorned ice-blue satin and turned it into something altogether more whimsical. While the skirts were rigorously tailored, without the elaborate overlays and lace of Daisy's gown, Isabella had set the material on the bias in order to sew a line of embroidered butterflies into flight up the skirts. And while the sleeves were less elaborately puffed than Daisy's lace daydream, the sleek satin fabric was embellished by cutout butterflies set free upon a cunning net of tulle that swooped low across the bodice.

It was nothing Marigold had wanted and everything she secretly adored. "She is an infernal genius."

"You've got that right." Beside her, Bessie sighed. "Wish my Lucy could have occasion for a dress like this."

Bessie's wish pierced the haze of Marigold's euphoria. And left her ashamed. Ashamed, because it had never occurred to her before this moment that Lucy should attend. Because it had never occurred to the ladies of the cycling club, even as they had talked about "all" the young people in town being invited. Clearly not all. "Bessie, how ignorant of me. I'm sorry."

Bessie nodded even as she sighed. "Can't change but one thing at a time, they say, but Lord, I'm wearing out my patience watching progress for my people move along so slow." She took a deep breath. "But we've got to move fast now—we haven't got all night." Bessie was opening the connecting door to the adjacent bedroom. "You two are gonna look a treat. No way Mr. Cab is gonna take his eyes off you."

"Bessie, please." Marigold felt her face heat under the woman's watchful eyes. "That was certainly not my intention."

Bessie pursed her lips even as she smiled. "Well, that's gonna be your result."

Marigold kept that happy thought in the back of her mind as she called Daisy out of her bath—it truly was a marvelous thing to have friends with indoor plumbing—for her first look at her gown. Isabella had kept her in suspense by fitting her in a muslin blank. "Prepare yourself to be amazed and transformed."

Daisy gripped Marigold's hand, but all trepidation vanished the moment she saw the dress. "Oh!" Her hands flew up to her pinked cheeks. "Oh, my stars! It's prettier than I ever could have imagined. Oh, golly! Are you sure this is for me?"

"I am quite sure," Marigold was happy to assure her. "Only a girl as tall and willowy as you could do justice to these long, flowing skirts."

"Oh, Marigold." Her tall young cousin enveloped her in a bruising hug. "You are a wonder."

"Isabella gets all the credit so far, but just wait until I have worked my full wonder upon you. Now that you are thoroughly scrubbed, it's time to put up your hair."

"What about me?" queried Seviah from the doorway. "Do I get scrubbed too?"

"You shall have to scrub yourself, Cousin." Marigold was too used to Seviah playing the Lothario to mind his innuendo, but she'd have another word with him about this tendency before they left. "Downstairs."

Bessie chuckled and shook her head. "I'll show you to the gentlemen's bathing room, Mr. Seviah, but after that, you're on your own."

"What if I don't know how to get myself into the rig?"

Marigold heard the very real worry in Seviah's voice, but Bessie was briskly herding him away. "Oh, I reckon Mr. Cab can help you with that. He's already come home early to take his bath."

The thought of Cab Cox at his bath one floor below did strange—but entirely delightful—things to Marigold's sense of equanimity. Things she would think about later. After the party—or possibly during. "We're going to have a marvelous evening."

An hour later, she made good on the first of her promises. "There." Marigold placed the last hairpin in Daisy's softly upswept chignon and stepped back to survey her workmanship. "Yes, you'll do very nicely." She applied just the barest amount of rouge to augment Daisy's dewy-fresh look. "You're going to break his heart."

"Oh, golly, I hope not," the girl swore with a shy smile. "What use would it be to me if it's broken?"

"Quite so." Marigold smiled back at Daisy's reflection. "You're going to be a sensation."

"If I can be half the sensation you are, I'll be just fine." Daisy clasped Marigold's hand. "I'm ashamed I ever let myself think bad of you. Thank you for everything you've done, Marigold."

"You are very welcome. Remember, Seviah and I will be there to help you should you need it, but I have every confidence you won't."

"And I'll be there to assist you both," a quiet baritone added. "All you have to do is ask."

Marigold turned to find Cab standing in the doorway, perfection in a black dinner suit. There was something about the strictly tailored lines and the starched crispness of his evening attire that brought her attention to the architecture of his strong jaw and high cheekbones. Something that made her heart open without consulting her mind, which had more reasonable things to say. "Cab, you look wonderfully fine. But come, tell me what you think of Daisy."

Cab performed his duty without making it seem a duty at all. "Breathtakingly beautiful, Miss Hatchet. I predict you will be the belle of the ball." The smile he turned on Marigold was no less enthusiastic. "And you are a vision yourself, Marigold. The two of you will do your family proud."

"And what of me?" queried Seviah from behind him.

"Yes, let us have a look at you, Seviah." Marigold beckoned him into the room, anxious to have a look at her second charge. But she needn't have worried. Cab had clearly taken the young man under his wing—she recognized the studs shining from Seviah's shirtfront as well as the cuff links at his wrist. And the young man's unruly dark locks had been tamed into a neatly parted style.

"Look at you, Sev!" said Daisy. "You look like a thoroughbred."

"The very picture of a matinee idol, Seviah," Marigold confirmed.

He smoothed a hand through his hair. "Well, it looks like I'm painting the town red tonight."

"No malarkey, Seviah," Marigold warned sternly. "And no liquor. You're meant to be handsome and charming and a credit to your sister, so no spiking the punch. Behave, and you'll get your dance as a reward."

"I'm going to hold you to that, Miss City Manners." Seviah winked at her.

"And none of that. Endear yourself, charm certainly, but do not flirt. Are we all ready, then? Daisy, let's get you swathed in your wrap for the trip in case it rains. I've brought you one of my better shawls."

"Now, wait a minute now." Bessie was at the door. "I held a little something back—cuz your Mrs. Dana, that's what she asked me to do."

Bessie brought in two high-collared evening capes of velvet dyed to match their dresses, with a butterfly embellishment for Marigold's and a lace overlay for Daisy's. They were the perfect accompaniment. Isabella had indeed thought of everything.

Daisy sighed with happiness. "Only thing that would make it perfect is I wish we had matching shoes."

"Oh, no," Marigold contradicted. "What a disaster that would be, with new-made shoes stiff and pinching your feet. We will be far more comfortable in our own well-cleaned and polished, comfortable slippers, which no one will notice because of your dress. Your feet will thank me for it at the end of the night. Trust me," Marigold said, "to know how things ought to be. Cab, are you ready?"

The smile he gave her was bright with something just beyond anticipation. "Always."