Page 31
Detozi
Chapter Four Vows
Just one more dusting,” her mother pleaded.
Alise shook her head. “There is more flour on my face now than we used for the wedding cake. And as tight and heavy as this gown is, I’m already starting to perspire. Hest knows I have freckles, Mother. I’m sure he would rather see them than have our guests see cracks in the powder layer on my face. ”
“I tried to keep her out of the sun. I warned her to wear a hat and veil. ” Her mother turned away from her as she muttered the words, but Alise knew that she intended them to be heard. She would not, she suddenly realized, miss her mother’s softly voiced comments and rebukes.
Would she miss anything about her old home?
She glanced around her small bedchamber. No. She wouldn’t. Not the bedstead that had once belonged to her great-aunt, not the worn curtains or the threadbare rug. She was ready to leave her father’s home, ready to begin something new. With Hest.
At the thought of him, her heart gave a small surge. She shook her head at herself. It was not time to think of her wedding night. Right now, she had to focus on getting through the ceremony. She and her father had worked carefully on the promises she would make to Hest. They had exchanged their list of proposed vows, negotiated changes, and discussed wording for several months now. A marriage contract in Bingtown was to be as carefully scrutinized as any other contract. Today, in the Traders’ Concourse, before families and guests, the terms of the marriage contract would be spoken aloud before either one of them set a signature to the final document. All would witness the agreement between Hest and her. The demands of Hest’s family had been precise, and some had made her father scowl. But at the last, he had recommended she accept them. Today she would formalize the agreement before witnesses.
And afterward, when the business was done, they would celebrate as a newly wed couple.
And consummate their agreement tonight.
Anticipation and dread roiled and fought in her. Some of her married friends had warned her of the pain of surrendering her virginity. Others had smiled conspiratorially, whispered of envy for her handsome mate, and gifted her with perfumes and lotions and lacily beribboned nightdresses. Many a comment had been made about how handsome Hest was, and how well he danced and what a fine figure he cut when he went out riding. One less reserved friend had even giggled as she said, “Competence in one saddle sometimes bespeaks competence in another!” So, even though their courtship had been bereft of stolen kisses or whispered endearments, she dared to hope that their first night alone might break his reserve and reveal a concealed passion for her.
She snapped open a lacy little fan and cooled her face with it. A subtle fragrance rode the small breeze from the perfumed lace of the fan. She looked a final time into her vanity mirror. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks pink. As infatuated as a silly little girl, she thought, and smiled forgiveness at her own image. What woman would not have given way to Hest’s charms? He was handsome, witty, intelligent, and a delightful conversationalist. The small gifts he showered upon her were thoughtful and apt. He’d not only accepted her ambition to be a scholar; his bridal gifts to her revealed that he would support her in her studies. Two excellent pens with silver tips, and ink in five different hues. A glass ground to magnify the fading letters of old manuscripts. A shawl embroidered with serpents and dragons. Earrings made from tinted flaked glass to mimic dragon scales. Every gift had been tailored to her interests. She suspected that his gifts said what he was too reserved to put into words. In response, she, too, had remained correct and formal, but despite her quiet manner, warmth for him had begun to grow in her heart. The restraint she practiced daily only fueled her fantasies at night.
Even the homeliest girl secretly dreams that a man might fall in love with her inner spirit. He had told her, plainly, that their marriage was one of convenience. But did it have to be, she wondered? If she devoted herself to him, could she not make it something more than that, for both of them? In the months that had slowly passed since the announcement of their engagement, she had become ever more aware of Hest. She learned the shape of his mouth as he spoke to her, studied his elegant hands as he lifted a cup of tea, admired his wide shoulders that pulled at the seams of his jacket. She stopped asking why and disbelieving that love could find her and drowned joyously in her infatuation.
War had ravaged Bingtown, and even if her parents had had money to fling into the wind, there were many items that simply could not be bought. For all that, this day still seemed like something out of a tale to her. It did not matter to her that her dress had been made from her grandmother’s gown; it only made it seem more significant. The flowers that decorated the Traders’ Concourse came not from hothouses or the Rain Wilds, but from the gardens of her family and friends. Two of her cousins would sing while their father played his fiddle. It would all be simple, and honest, and very real.