III

"To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved." George MacDonald

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III.

Susanna twirled excitedly, watching as the skirt of her dress fanned out from the high waistline. Of course, she was twirling in the dress that Belle had stitched out of cheap calico fabric as a practise, but she was twirling, nonetheless.

"I am certain I shall never own, nor wear anything near so fine as this gown that you are making for me, Belle," Susanna said excitedly.

It was Sunday, and so Belle had had the time to finish her practise gown in the daylight, as opposed to stitching by candlelight as she so often did. She did not attend church. Not because she did not want to, just because it was easier on the Ashwood villagers if she was not there. Belle did not like to draw attention, and she did so well enough as it was. Susanna had only recently returned home with her family and had come up to Belle's bedroom to see how she was progressing.

"Only I wish you would not spend your Sundays thus. It is the day of rest. I do feel rather guilty," Susanna added.

Belle wanted to laugh, though she composed herself so as not to make Susanna feel badly. Never, not once, in her nineteen years of life had she known so much as a day of light labour, let alone rest. But she liked this work. This work was fulfilling. This work made her happy, and happiness was something terrible foreign to Belle, and to others like her.

"Guilt is not a feeling I would want you to have when you are standing in what will be turned into your wedding gown," Belle replied thoughtfully.

Susanna flushed. She had such a lovely, healthy complexion, with full, rosy cheeks and beautiful blue eyes that suited her so well. Nothing about Susanna was startling or could make anyone who looked upon her uncomfortable. Though, she supposed, such was the prerogative of the white woman, and Susanna could not be blamed for that.

"Would you lift your arms up for me?" Belle requested, observing that the seams at the bust appeared a little tight.

Sure enough, when Susanna lifted her arms, a few of the loose stitches that Belle had sewn burst, indicating that it was a little too tight, and the measurement needed to be adjusted.

"Oh, dear," Susanna said bashfully, bringing her arms down immediately. "How terribly embarrassing. I suppose I must have put on a pound or two in the last few weeks. I suppose it is how well we are eating now that we are home."

Belle fetched her tape measure and retook Susanna's bust measurement, and just as she had suspected, there had been an inch gained. Belle was glad that the changes and rips happened on the practise garment and not on the real dress. She and Susanna had spent an ungodly amount of money on fabric ordered from a French catalogue that had arrived only a few days earlier. Belle had never touched anything so fine, and she was nervous to prick the silk with her needle, let alone rip seams and make adjustments.

"I am certain that if I avoid ... breakfast, perhaps? Do you think that would help me?" Susanna worried, suddenly taking herself over to the mirror to inspect her figure. She placed her hands either side of her ribcage and squeezed in.

The English style of gown, the high waisted fashion, were not designed to hug the feminine figure, Belle had observed. There was a practicality about the style, and she enjoyed that the high waist disguised her own figure, or lack thereof. Of course, Belle had nothing whatsoever to her own bust measurement, but the flare of her skirt did not directly advertise that her waist and hips could belong to a twelve-year-old child.

Susanna, on the other hand, had a beautifully feminine figure. Soft and slender, yet rounded and womanly where she needed to be. Were it not a sin, Belle would have envied her. Perhaps she was a sinner, and she did, indeed, envy her.

"Don't you dare," Belle insisted. "I have never heard of such a thing as to refuse food."

Belle watched as the colour drained from Susanna's face and an expression of shame appeared there. "Oh, Belle," she gasped. "Oh, please, forgive me. How terribly tactless of me."

Belle had not meant to make Susanna feel badly, though she had clearly succeeded. It was a simple reaction. She could not fathom someone refusing food and choosing to go hungry. Hunger was a terrible pain, though it was not the worst that she had experienced.

"I change the dress to fit you, and not the other way around. You are healthy, and you look every bit the joyful bride. Never choose hunger."

Susanna bit down on her bottom lip before she smiled, pulling Belle into a tight hug. Belle hated that she needed to close her eyes and actively stop herself from flinching. Susanna was not a man, and she was her friend. Belle was not at all unsafe, and yet she loathed that her immediate reaction to touch that she was not prepared for was fear.

Belle somehow managed to conceal her panic, as Susanna did not pull away until it was naturally time to. "I won't," promised Susanna. "It was silly of me to suggest it."

Belle finished taking Susanna's measurements again, double checking to ensure that her numbers were correct before she began to sew using the expensive fabric. She and Susanna then spent the next hour poring over Belle's design drawings for the gown, editing and making any little adjustments before Belle began cutting.

While doing this, Belle quite forgot about her momentary panic when Susanna had hugged her, and her feeling of excitement returned. This was what she loved to do. She felt talented.

"Belle, this is going to be the most beautiful dress," Susanna crooned for the tenth time. "I wish you would make everyone gowns. You ought to have your own catalogue or something. People would pay an awful lot of money for a wedding gown like this. And not only wedding gowns, but ball gowns and debutante gowns as well."

A catalogue? Belle thought about the catalogue that she had Susanna had gone through to select fabric. What would it be like to have such a book filled with her own designs?

Well, it would be a dream, just as having her own shop was a dream. Belle had no desire to be disappointed when she was already achieving much more than she could have ever thought by working in Mr Andrews' grocery shop. It was kind of Susanna to think that people would buy from her, but Belle knew the truth. The hard evidence was in the very fact that she needed to give Mr Andrews sixty-five percent of her earnings. She could never survive on her own. No-one would come. No-one would buy from a black woman.

But Belle did not say that to Susanna. Despite being nearly five years her senior, Susanna was still naïve about some things, and Belle rather enjoyed this about her. She wished that she could possess some of Susanna's optimistic innocence.

"Thank you," was all she said in reply.

At that moment, both women heard the sound of horses outside, and their attention turned to the window. The horse's hooves were followed by the sound of carriage wheels turning over on the gravel road up to the house.

"Oh, is it Jack?" Susanna asked excitedly, as she scrambled away from the mirror and over to the window. She leaned on the windowsill and peered outside.

Two weeks earlier the Beresfords had received the news that Jack, whom Belle knew to be the sibling aged in between Susanna and Adam, and his wife, Claire, had been blessed with the arrival of a second daughter, Maria. The family was expected to travel to Ashwood when both mother and child were well enough, and the family were waiting in anticipation.

"Is it?" Belle queried, following Susanna over to the window. She looked out and saw that a carriage was travelling up the road, being pulled along by four large horses.

"I don't know," replied Susanna, frowning. "I don't remember Jack's carriage, and they all look the same anyway." Her fingers drummed against the wood of the windowsill. "I hope it is. I am desperate to see the baby. I want to know if she looks like me, too."

"Too?" Belle thought back to meeting the little blonde daughter of Jack and Claire when they had visited Ashwood back in April. She supposed Susanna was right, considering neither one of her parents were fair at all.

"Oh, yes," confirmed Susanna. "Jackie is just darling, isn't she? She has my hair and everything. Jackie and Maria ... oh, I cannot tell you how pleased I am for my brother. He is such a proud father. Both of my brothers are. And both blessed with two girls each. It makes me smile, even if it does worry my mother."

Belle had learned several new English words through the dowager duchess, Cecily, as well as several apparent remedies that she was otherwise unaware of. She had learned of a sweetbread, and that apparently if an expectant mother ingested one, she was bound to have a son. Cecily had apparently been mistaken with a few other concoctions in the past but was quite confident about this one.

Belle was quite certain that she would never become a mother herself, but if she were to be, she could not imagine wanting to determine the sex of her child. Girl or boy, it did not matter.

"Oh, it's stopped!" said Susanna excitedly, as she slapped Belle's arm, albeit lightly.

Still, the unexpected touch made Belle jump, and her heart quicken. Susanna, however, thankfully didn't notice.

Together, they watched as footmen surrounded the carriage, which was carrying several trunks atop it in luggage. The steps were let down, and the first person climbed out.

Tall, handsome, and wearing an impossibly proud smile as he carried his small, blonde, toddler daughter on his hip, was Jack Beresford.

Susanna beamed gleefully. "It is them! How delightful! Let me catch a glimpse of the baby before we go down."

Jack used his free hand to carefully guide his wife out from the carriage. Claire was wearing a mint shade of green with a matching spencer coat, dressed suitably for travelling in the summer. In her arms, she carried a swaddled infant, whose face could not be seen from above. Claire moved delicately, almost gingerly, appropriate for a woman who had given birth recently.

"Can you see anything?" asked Susanna as she craned her neck. "I cannot. Come, let's go down."

"Is there someone else coming?" Belle asked, as both Jack and Claire looked back into the carriage and waited.

Sure enough, a second man exited the carriage, almost bouncing out of it with the youth in his legs. He did look young, though Belle could not predict his age. He was tall, to be certain, as he stood nearly equal to Jack, and he was dressed just as finely as the few gentlemen that Belle had seen since arriving in England. He was not as lean as the other gentlemen though. Not that he was large, but the men that Belle had seen tended to be on the slim side. This man looked strong, broad in the shoulders, large in the arms and legs, as though he lugged sacks of flour in between signing important documents. But he did look lovely ... handsome, in a sweet way. Belle decided immediately that she liked that sort of handsome, and she had never, not once, thought of a man as sweet.

It was startling to realise that, as Belle's first thought that not been threat. This was enough to frighten her back behind her guard.

"Oh, it's Peter!" Susanna cheered. "Why, I haven't seen him since my Season last year. Grace will be pleased, and so will Mrs Denham."

"Who is Peter?" Belle asked softly. Threat, she reminded herself. A strange man, any man, could be a threat. This man was about to be staying under the same roof as her. She needed to prepare herself.

"Peter Denham," replied Susanna. "He is Grace's younger brother, though he works in London with Jack as a publisher."

Belle had been aware of one of Grace's brothers. She had met seventeen-year-old Jem Denham on several occasions. She had known of another brother, but she had not learned his name. Peter Denham, this strange man, was Grace's brother. Belle knew in her head that this meant he was trusted by this family. Every man that she had met within the Beresford family was safe. Peter should be safe, too.

Should.

Belle could not trust that. She wouldn't let herself trust that.

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Hope you enjoyed it!! Oh my darling, Belle, will you get what you deserve? Or will your evil author make you jump through flaming hoops and make you suffer and make things terribly bad before - ya know what, why am I even pretending this is hypothetical? You guys KNOW I WILL DO ALL THAT HAHAHHAHAAHAH

BIG THANK YOU to everyone who jumped on board supporting me through One Chance!! That means the absolute world to me!!

I had a very eventful day in which I moved my bedroom around, changed my bedding - so now I'm sitting on a beautifully made bed with chaos all around me from crap that I've moved, unpacked, packed away, pulled out ... but that's all looking like tomorrow's problem!

It was also the AFL Grand Final today, so I watched that and said bye to the football for another year. I love Grand Final day, but it's always sad knowing we now how to wait until March for the footy season to start again.

Alright, skin care time - don't neglect your skin care! Then bed. Night everyone xx

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