The dress is her wedding dress - or as close to it as it could be :)
I look in the mirror. The dress that is clinging to my body is laden with beads, turquoise gems and lace. It's main features are the heavily layered ruffled skirts and the back that plunges to the midpoint of my spinal cord. The sleeves are non-existent and the neck is heavily adorned with gems and pearls in a pattern that makes them seem like icicles dropping from a roof.
It is outrageously hideous and ostentatious, just like Emmanuel said it would be.
That rotten retard.
It is the night before the wedding.
My eyes are puffy and red from crying and Damon is stretching his arms, which are most probably tired from comforting me all day. Madam Gisela, the woman who designed my engagement dress as well as this dress, fusses around me, stabbing pins into the dress here and there, tying different colours of ribbon around the waist as though seeing which one looks best, mumbling to herself as if I'm not even there.
Madam Gisela sighs and stands straight, making one final adjustment. She looks in the mirror, not meeting my eyes but letting them scan how the dress falls on my body.
She nods and says, "That will do. It'll take me possibly all night to make these adjustments. The dress looks good on you, Eloise." She turns to Damon. "Can you please step out of the room while she changes, please?"
"Of course." Damon walks across the room and just like Madam Gisela said, he steps out out of the room.
She orders me to kneel on the ground and then slides the dress up off my body. I immediately reach for the dress I was wearing before the fitting and slip into it as quickly as I can.
Turning on her heel, Madam Gisela stalks out of the room without a word. Before the door even has a chance to close, Damon barges in. He rushes over to me and encases me with his body, lifting my feet off the ground and burying his face in the crevice of my neck. His breath is warm, tickling my skin softly like a feather.
I close my teary eyes, embracing him as tightly as possible. Damon pulls me back and leans his forehead against mine, his bottom lip trembling. Although Damon's eyes are closed, I keep mine open. I want to make sure that his face and this moment are both burned into my mind for eternity.
A single tear runs down Damon's cheek and I reach up with a thumb, wiping it off. Damon's eyes open and he stares into my eyes, "Are you ready for tomorrow?"
"Can't we just run?" I ask, whining needlessly.
"You know we can't just run. For the first thing, where would we go? Who do we know that will house two runaways without asking any questions?"
I sigh. I know he's right and what's worse is the fact that I can't do anything about it. Whatever he has planned, I just have to pray that it works. I have to pray that when the moment comes along, when the plan comes into play, I am ready and aware of it.
"No one." I say, lowering my gaze. Damon hooks his fingers under my chin and pulls my head up, so it's tilted back enough so my eyes meet his.
"That's right. No one is going to help us without my plan. I will make sure we're together. No one will help us right now but no one is going to keep us apart either. I won't let that happen." Damon tells me with such conviction and sincerity, I feel as though the words are my own.
Damon leans in to me, his eyes fluttering shut. I lean in myself, my heart turning somersaults. One final kiss. Just one final kiss and I will be able to get through the worst day of my life tomorrow. I can feel Damon's breath caress my face, centred at my mouth. I fight the urge to tap my foot impatiently and wait for the sensation of his lips upon mine.
There's a thunderous knock on the door and Damon groans in protest, turning his head to the door, in other words away from me. Fighting the urge to scream in frustration, I walk over to the door and wrench it open.
Emmanuel stands on the other side. He regards me with disgust, steps in and shuts the door behind him.
"Now, I just wanted to clear a few things up." He says, clasping his hands behind him. "Tomorrow is our wedding and I have gone to extreme lengths to make sure you do not try anything, my darling Eloise. There will be guards posted throughout the church and Damon will be being watched. You, Eloise, need to be on your best behaviour. Anyone suspects anything and I will reveal all you've done in front of all those people attending the wedding, much to the shame of your mother."
I turn my head sharply to glare at him.
Emmanuel smirks smugly, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction. "After the wedding, the reception will be held in the gardens. An outdoor reception, very modern, very coming-of-age. You will be changed and will then join me for some dancing and a meal. Then your mother, my parents, my best man and I will all make our speeches. There will be one final slow dance and then the reception will be over. Guests will be here a few hours later for our first dinner as a married couple and that will also be held in the gardens."
I walk over to Damon, standing in his little bubble of love and protection.
"After the dinner, you will be taken to my quarters and our wedding night will ensue."
Damon's arm hooks itself around my waist and he pulls me closer, contempt rolling in fetid waves off of his body. His dark eyes openly challenge Emmanuel to elaborate. I know that if he does, then Emmanuel won't escape this room without at least a single bruise.
Emmanuel pretends not to notice this pointed gesture.
"In the morning, we will be taken to the train station and we will return to my home in Stonegate. There will be a ball at my home and your new life - away from Damon - will begin."
I watch Emmanuel leave, shutting the door behind him. I sense the fight leave Damon. I look up at him and he down at me.
"Our wedding night?" I repeat, feeling my soul tremble and quake.
Damon shakes his head, cupping my face in his hands. "It's okay. You can refuse him. You could just hide out through the night somewhere. I... you don't have to give yourself away."
"Damon, I want you to be the one to..."
"I know." Damon interrupts. "I want me to be the one, too."
I stare at the buttons holding his shirt together and watch them blur into my tears. I find myself snivelling into Damon's shirt, find his arms tight around me, feel his warmth radiating through me, feel his chin pressing on the top of my head.
I keep my head buried in Damon's shirt, keep my eyes closed tight and focus on the calmness Damon's body is channelling into mine. I let it drive the sadness, the fury, the fear out of me. I let it replace all my emotions with a stillness, a numbness that leaves me drained of energy but strangely content with the new quiet inside me.
Damon convinces me to lay down in the bed, but I only agree to do so if he lays with me. We lay on our sides and face each other. I raise one hand and Damon follows my lead, our fingers meeting the middle with a gentle kiss and intermingling with each other.
"I need you to be brave tomorrow." Damon says.
"Will they let you be at the wedding?" I ask, ignoring his request. No matter how much I try, I know I can't be brave. The fear will paralyse me tomorrow.
"I don't think your mother will let me roam around freely when there are drinks to give out and coats to hold and people to rebuked by."
I smile softly, "I could never do what you do and still be sane."
"That's because you weren't born to do what I do."
"Yes, but, you weren't born to do what you do."
"Really?" Damon asks. "What was I born to do?"
"Love me." I reply.
Damon laughs. "I wish I could say you were wrong, but to be honest, most of me agrees with you. Even if loving you has gotten you, has gotten us to this position, I wouldn't change anything."
"I would." I say. "I would change the part where I said I wouldn't run away with you."
"I wouldn't even change that." Damon counters. "I love that about you. The way you are independent, the way you don't need any one to make decisions for you. Any normal woman would go along with the life set out for her by her parents. Only you would oppose it as much as you could for your whole life."
I smile and this time, it is genuine. Damon drops my hand and puts his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I pull my knees up, curling up so I can be as near him as possible and feel his legs touch my shin. We fit into each other perfectly. Damon strokes my face, his eyes warm and loving.
"Don't forget me, Damon." I mumble, my voice not capable of anything above a whisper.
"I won't." Damon's tone matches mine.
I feel my lids become heavy and allow them to close slowly.
***
I am swathed in the dress once more, but this time, not for a fitting. This time, it is for real. This time, it is the wedding. My wedding, as strange and far-fetched as it sounds.
My hair is tightly coiled into a bun. My black eye has been expertly choked in powders and all types of make-up. All other bruises are covered using the same method. My eyes shine with tears, but none fall. I seem to have already cried myself out. My stomach - which was in unrest last night - is calm and numb today, like the quiet before the storm. Damon has been whisked away for hours now; Mother needed him to set up tables and help the workers bring everything in.
My eyes meet a pair of warm, brown eyes that belong to my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Rose. She returns my gaze and I see something in her eyes. Something different from the looks that the rest of her family have been giving me.
Sympathy. She feels sorry for me, she understands me. I realise this with a heart-stopping jolt of elation. Tears pool in my eyes and immediately, the same stranger who attacked me with powders on my engagement clucks at me. "No need to cry, this is the happiest day of your life."
If only she knew.
I break the connection between Rose and I and resume watching the woman's hands deftly braid my hair around a large bun at the top of my head. She hums softly to herself as she works; oblivious to the world of chaos around her.
I stare at the reflection of my room. It seems strangely empty, sort of... dead to me. I stare in confusion and then I remember.
Mary's not here anymore.
She's gone - forever. I clutch the ring of pearls around my neck and fight the almost irresistible urge to break down in tears for the thousandth time in the last forty-eight hours.
"There we go." The woman pats my shoulders. "You're all done and you look absolutely heavenly. Your mother should be here in a minute."
As if she heard her name, Mother sweeps into the room. Her hair has been intertwined into a complicated braid-slash-bun thing at the crown of her hair and it seems as though glitter has been brushed on to her cheekbones. Her make-up glimmers on her skin, rendering her decades younger than she actually is.
Her eyes drink me in hungrily and the corner of her lip twitches in approval. "Thank you for your excellent work. A guard is waiting at the door; he will escort you to your coach."
"Thank you, Madam Adelina. By recommending me, you have done such wonders for my business."
Mother simply inclines her head in supposed modesty. As the woman leaves, I stand up and step out from behind the stool to face Mother. Something in my failing heart softens at the sight of her. Maybe it's the fact that I will never really be just her daughter any more; I will be somebody's wife, somebody's sister-in-law, someone's daughter-in-law. My mother will no longer be named my protector, my guardian. She will be watching from the sidelines after today.
"Mother," I begin, "I am sorry I could never be the ideal and obedient daughter you wanted me to be. I am sorry I failed in so many aspects of my life. I never deliberately tried to hurt you, I swear. You're my mother and you mean everything to me. Mother, I'm sorry."
Mother's eyes soften and she sniffs. Then something in her demeanour changes and she snaps at me. "You should have thought of that before you disgraced me the way you did. Now, come on!"
Accepting the fact my mother may never forgive me like one accepts bitter lemons, I walk towards her and link my arm with hers. Mother pushes her shoulders back, thrusting her chest out and instructing me to do the same.
Rose and Lady Elizabeth join us in the parlour. Waiting outside for the four of us is a regal coach, adorned with fresh flowers and swathes of ivory ribbon flying in the wind. The driver takes my hand and helps me into my seat, Mother, Rose and Lady Elizabeth right behind me. There is a strange tension in the air on the way to the church. Lady Elizabeth glares at me occasionally and Mother sends me appraising glances whereas Rose glances at me with nothing but a sad pity, an emphatic emotion that seeps from her pores towards me.
"I hope Emmanuel and his father have reached the church safely." Lady Elizabeth mutters, crossing herself. Rose rests her hand on Lady Elizabeth's shoulder and reassures her. "I'm sure they have."
Lady Elizabeth nods in response.
Mother presses a pair of gloves into my hand. Without an objection, I pull them onto my hand, tugging them up to my elbows.
I can hear a church bell ringing and my throat dries up. My heart judders to an alarmingly slow rate. Mother turns to me and appears to say something, but the sound is slow and stretched and Mother seems to blur before my very eyes.
I look at Rose and Lady Elizabeth, who also seem strangely distorted. A hand rests on my arm and I jump. Mother looks at me as though I'm insane.
"We're at the church. Come on! Emmanuel's father is waiting to walk you up the aisle." Mother hisses at me.
"Yes, Mother." I say, smoothing my skirts down out of habit. The driver helps me down and then Emmanuel's father entwines my arm with his.
He leans down and whispers in my ear, "I forgive you."
I look up at him, wondrously startled, tears of gratitude forming in my eyes. My father-in-law nods in confirmation and allows himself a smile.
"Are you ready, Eloise?" He asks, straightening up.
My throat closing up, all I can manage is a nod.
Master Phillip begins to gracefully glide up the stone path towards the majestic double doors that lead into the church. I sense my hold on Master Phillip's arm tighten with anxiousness, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care. The church's doors swing open all by themselves as we approach them.
Guests peer at us from their respective pews, huge ribbon bows attached to the end of each pew in a deep shade of red. Emmanuel stands at the dais, the priest flanking him.
He is rather young, just as Emmanuel said the priest would be. Emmanuel himself is wearing a black suit jacket with long tails over a white waistcoat. The suit jacket has a white rose popping out of his breast pocket. His hair has been slicked back, so his aristocrat nose seems to stretch even farther today.
When he sees me, Emmanuel allows himself a tight and smug smile. He's done it. He's won.
Organ music begins to play as we walk down the aisle. I keep my eyes fixed on the ground; I don't wish to meet Emmanuel's leering gaze. It seems like we are walking across a desert to get to the dais. Everyone's eyes are glued to me, forcing the sensation of spiders crawling their spindly legs up my spine. I need to shudder, so as to relieve that sensation, but I know Mother and everyone watching will disapprove.
Finally, I'm being led up the steps. My hand is outstretched and Emmanuel takes it, pulling me up the final step to the dais. There is silence, except for my heavy breathing. My eyes ache for a chance to wander, so they can spot Damon. He must be around somewhere. The priest begins the ceremony and I fix my stare on his cross, refusing to let myself hear the words that will bind me to Emmanuel forever.
I have always thought Damon and I would stay together forever, even when I was married. I thought he would always be the figure by my side, regardless of whether I had a husband or not. Damon had always been the one that meant everything to me, he was the one who had accepted me when my mother rejected me, he was the one who turned my flaws into my best qualities. He was the one - point blank, period, full stop.
I had never imagined life without him but now, it was happening. Time and society had finally caught up to us. It was over - really, truly over.
We're turned to each other for our vows and I say them obediently, letting the words blur into themselves. It was now time to say my 'I do'.
I look towards Mother, so her calm exterior can provide me with some confidence.
I freeze.
Standing behind her is the one person who can give me confidence and then so much more. Damon meets my eyes with a pained, teary look. He nods once in reassurance, mouthing three words.
I'll save you.
Mother glares at me in reminder, presuming I'm staring at her. I turn back to Emmanuel and utter, "I do."
There is an exchanging of the rings and then the priest says the words I have been dreading since dawn when I awakened.
"You may now kiss the bride."
Emmanuel clutches my forearms and pulls me toward him. I fight back a sob and let his lips move over mine, detaching myself from the situation. I move back after a brief meeting of our mouths, much to the audience's glee who whoop and cheer and applaud.
I glance at Damon, who has turned away from me, looking over his shoulder so I can only see his face in profile. I lower my eyes to the floor so no one can see the tears starting to fall from them.
A calloused, feminine hand appears before me.
"Come, Miss Eloise." An all-too-familiar voice says. "I must escort you to the coach."
I look into Mary's welcoming, forgiving eyes and it takes all I have not to break down into helpless tears. I practically fall down the stairs into her arms, allowing her to haul me past the pews and out into the courtyard.
Mary?! What is she doing here? I thought she was fired. She said Mother had relieved her of her duties! I can't stop staring at Mary as she bundles me into a different coach than the one I arrived in, in case she disappears like a miraculous mirage.
It's only when the horse-ridden coach pulls away that Mary turns to me and conveys any sign of emotion.
"I'm sorry!" She exclaims. "I had to lie to you!"