Edith froze at the sight of it, her throat clenching. The boulder in her stomach rolled from end to end, and she swallowed as she stepped out of her dress. “That one.”
Simms looked at her with wide eyes. “Madam… I was only moving it. I wasn’t…”
“That one,” Edith said again, more firmly. She cleared her throat and nodded. “It’s the finest I have, and only the finest will do tonight.”
Her maid looked at the gown, faded from what it had once been, but still elegant in its cut and color. “It’s at least three years out of fashion, madam.”
Edith blinked, her hands settling on her hips as she eyed it. “Will it be that noticeable?”
Simms pursed her lips in thought. “I could pull some tufts in the sleeves, and if we tighten your stays, your form might give you more of the shape that is fashionable…” She tilted her head from side to side. “If I set your hair aright, madam, it might be passable.”
“I will take elegantly passable,” Edith said with a wry smile. “If it can be done quickly. More permanent alterations will have to wait.”
The pair of them got to work, and the tighter set of stays was uncomfortable enough that Edith’s nerves vanished in the face of them. The yellowed cream of the gown appeared almost intentional due to the pristine condition of the fabric, and the black dots scattered along it had lost none of their luster. Black lace overlay on the sleeves and bodice, draping elegantly down to tufts at the hem, added to the evening elegance that had attracted her to the gown in the first place.
She hadn’t known it would be her wedding gown. Black in her wedding gown should have warned her off the affair.
Not that she’d had any say in the matter.
“There’s not time enough to do what I would wish to your hair, madam,” Simms sighed as Edith sat before the looking glass. “I daren’t even attempt curls…”
“Just plait and pin what you can,” Edith insisted, smiling at her in the glass. “Plaits are always in fashion, no?”
Simms chuckled and undid the massive length of Edith’s dark hair, her fingers flying through the tendrils as she worked it into a simple, sturdy, somehow still elegant updo. It would hardly be worth commenting on in any Society gossip sheets, nor would it get her any envious looks from other ladies, but it wouldn’t scandalize any, either.
She would accept that gladly.
“The pearl combs, madam?” Simms asked with a satisfied exhale as she stepped back from her work.
Edith shook her head and rose quickly. “Not tonight. This will suffice.” She turned to take the gloves from Simms, wincing slightly as a muscle in her side clenched against the stays. “Just my cross, please.”
The delicate gold necklace was fastened around her neck, and Edith felt the weight of it pressing against her chest, comforting rather than weighing her down. She’d had it since she was twelve, and it was one of the few things from home that did not make her sad to see.
A knock at the door made Edith jump, and she turned, swallowing hard. “Crivvens. What am I about, Simms?”
“Trying to make the best of the abysmal, madam.” Simms offered a sad smile. “Best be about it, lest you get cold feet.”
Edith sighed and grabbed the cloak from her bed.
“I’ve no time for cold anything. Not anymore.” She turned from the room and hurried down the stairs, nodding silently to Owen as she passed and receiving a silent nod in return.
The carriage was tastefully elaborate, but she barely blinked at it as she took the footman’s hand and entered it, grinning at the others within.
“Good evening,” she said.
“Lady Edith,” Aubrey, Lord Ingram, greeted from one side of the carriage, inclining his head. He gestured to the seat opposite him with a warm smile. “I assumed you would wish to sit beside my wife for the duration of the ride.”
“She is the fairer of the pair,” Edith pointed out as she settled in beside Grace, Lady Ingram, and took her hand.
“No argument on my part.” Aubrey tapped the ceiling, and the carriage jolted forward, the lump in Edith’s throat mirroring it.
“You’re both very amusing. Really.” Grace snorted softly and patted the hand she held. “Nervous, Edith?”
Edith laughed through clenched teeth. “Is it obvious?”
Aubrey hissed. “The grimace gives it away, just a touch…”
That earned him a scolding look, which made him chuckle.
“I was never properly out, you know,” Edith admitted. “Never been at ease with being on display, as it were, and tonight, I am displaying myself for all of London.”
“If it is any consolation,” Grace said, her dark eyes darker in the shadows of the carriage, “the Martins don’t know all of London.”
Edith laughed once. “I dinna ken if that helps me or no’. I have need of Society, yet I dinna wish to be among Society.”
“Why the need, Edith?” Aubrey asked, his tone less teasing now. “You never have before.”
“Aubrey…” Grace murmured with a shake of her head.
Edith swallowed once. “It is simply time. Much as I hate to admit it.” She turned to Grace and changed the conversation to her recent article on the fading trend of fichus.
Not that she cared all that much about fichus, or any other kind of fashion, but she would ramble about anything rather than divulge her reasons at this moment.
Thankfully, the Martins did not live too far into the fashionable part of London. They had arrived and were being greeted by servants taking their cloaks before she could pretend to find one more interesting detail about something so minuscule.
Aubrey offered an arm to Edith, Grace on his other side. “Everyone is being announced, Edith. Now or never.”
Her pulse lurched, and she clenched her free hand into a fist as though it would steady her. “Never isna much of an option, my lord.”
“I’ve told you how I feel about you calling me that,” he muttered with a slight nudge to her side that did more for her comfort than she could say.
Edith managed a smile for him, then caught Grace looking her over with a small furrow between her fair brows.
“Wrong?” she asked with a sigh, looking over herself.
“No, no,” Grace replied hastily, reaching over to take her hand. “You look lovely. It’s just a bit… worn.”
“I know,” Edith groaned, adjusting the skirt. “It was all I could think to wear, and I’m nervous enough as it is.”
“It’s not noticeable,” Grace assured her with a smile. “I’m just overly observant.”
“I’ll say,” Aubrey muttered good-naturedly, kissing Grace’s cheek quickly. “Edith, you look lovely, don’t let Grace make you anxious.”
Edith smiled at him. “Thank you, Aubrey.”
Grace grinned, even as she rapped her husband across the chest sharply. “No matter, Edith, you’re perfect. Next time, we’ll spruce you up a bit more, but for your first night, it’s perfect.”
Edith bit the inside of her cheek as Aubrey escorted them in, as it was not the time to tell Grace that this was the very best this gown would ever get, or that this was the best gown she owned.