Free Tallie's Knight by Anne Gracíe Page B

them
appear balanced. It was hopeless. One sleeve puffed beautifully whilst the
other, which should have been an exact twin, sagged and drooped. She’d put the
sleeve in and taken it out a half-dozen times and still it looked uneven —and
slightly grubby from all the handling.
    Tallie had no idea
what arrangements had been made for her wedding.
    She’d tried several
times to speak to her cousin, but Laetitia was still furious and had ordered
Tallie to keep out of her sight or she would not be answerable for the
consequences.
    No one, not the servants,
Laetitia nor Lord d’Arenville, had seemed to recall that the bride had not a
penny to her name. Hopefully someone would remember the bride needed a suitable
gown, but as the dreaded day grew closer Tallie decided she had better make
alternative arrangements —just in case.
    The attics contained
dozens of trunks and bandboxes, filled with old dresses and ball gowns
relegated there over the years. She and the children had rummaged through them
frequently, searching for dress-up materials. Tallie had found a lovely pale
amber silk ball gown hopelessly outmoded, with wide panniers and yards of ruching,
but with enough good material left, when it was unpicked, to make a wedding
frock. Using one of her old dresses as a pattern, she had cut and sewn it
laboriously, wishing she had been more diligent in Miss Fisher’s sewing class.
    In another trunk she
had found an almost new pair of blue kid slippers, which only pinched her feet
a little, and a stained pair of long white satin gloves. The stains were
impossible to remove, so she’d dipped the gloves in coffee until they almost
exactly matched the amber silk.
    She smiled at her
reflection and pirouetted several times. It was not so bad after all. Oh, the
neckline was a trifle crooked, to be sure, but Tallie was convinced only the
most critical would notice it. And if the gathers she had made at the back were
slightly uneven, what did that signify? It was only obvious when she was
motionless, so she would be sure to keep moving, and if she had to stand still
for any reason she would keep her back to a wall.
    She examined her
reflection in the mirror again as she tugged on the long satin gloves. She had
never worn anything so fine in her life.
    She frowned at the
sleeves. A shawl! She realised in a sudden flash of brilliance. Laetitia’s
spangled gauze scarf would hide the sleeves!
    It was not precisely
a bridal mode, but perhaps observers would think it a new fashion. After all,
she was wedding a man well-known for his elegance. Tallie’s mouth grew dry as
she stared at her reflection.
    She was not just
wedding a man, she was wedding The Icicle. Tomorrow morning. And afterwards he
would take her away from the children she loved so much —the only living
creatures in the world who loved her.
    Tomorrow she would
belong only to him, swear before God and witnesses to love, honour and obey
him. A man she barely knew and certainly didn’t like. A cold man, who was famed
for caring nothing for the feelings of others. Who wanted a wife he need not
dance attendance on, a wife he could get with child and then abandon in rural
fastness while he enjoyed himself in London, awaiting the birth of his heir.
Tallie shivered. What did it mean, get with child? She knew women bore children,
of course, but how it came about she had no idea.
    She’d lived virtually
her entire life in Miss Fisher’s Seminary for the Daughters of Gentlemen, and
the subject had certainly never been on that prim spinster’s curriculum.
    It had, however, been
a subject of much speculation and whispering in the dormitories. But none of
the various theories put forward by the Daughters of Gentlemen had convinced
Tallie that any of her schoolfellows were more enlightened than she on the
subject. Some had insisted that women carried a baby around in their stomach,
for instance. Well, if that was so —how did they get the baby out? Cut it out?
Vomit it?
    In any case,