The Wedding Dress(14)

“Platinum, my dear. The diamond is an Edwardian cut surrounded by solitaires.” Phillip held up the ring. The extravagant stones soaked up the light and splashed a rainbow against the wall. And over Emily’s heart.

“I can barely breathe.”

“Emily Canton, will you marry me?” Phillip slipped his ring of promise onto her finger.

“Yes, oh yes, Phillip.” She fell against him, and when he lifted her up in his arms, all the doubts, all the memories of Daniel, escaped through her heart’s open door.



The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed the last moments of midnight. Emily leaned against the front door as it clicked closed, a bit of stardust in her eyes.

She was engaged. To Phillip Saltonstall. He was so sweet and charming tonight, never leaving her side, sneaking kisses while Mother played the piano and sang, while Father glanced the other way.

Then he danced with her on the front porch as the moon lit the sublime night, and when the clock chimed midnight, he held her face in his hands and kissed her good night. Could there be anything as grand?

Emily raised her ring hand into the glow of the gaslight. It was exquisite. More than she ever imagined. My, wasn’t Father merry all evening? Mother, so gay and lighthearted.

When the Saltonstalls arrived for a family celebration and dessert, Emily thought she might explode with happiness. This evening paled even her favorite Christmas when her brother, Howard Jr., returned home from his first year at Harvard.

The Saltonstalls appeared content and proud. “Phillip chose well,” Mr. Saltonstall had boasted. “Very well.”

An engagement party was already in the planning.

But Father’s rolling laughter was Emily’s favorite sound of the evening. He showed his pleasure in the whole arrangement. Especially after he and Mr. Saltonstall vanished into the library, only to come out shaking hands. “Good to do business with family, Howard.”

Father’s exchange company would benefit from a man like Cameron Saltonstall.

Emily moseyed up the stairs just as a door creaked at the end of the hall. She leaned to see Molly tiptoeing out of the kitchen.

“Molly, what are you doing up?” Emily laughed when the maid jumped, clutching her robe together at her throat. Her thick hair was tied up in rags that stuck out of her head every which way.

“Checking on you, miss. I couldn’t sleep until he left.” Molly whispered her way toward Emily and the stairs. “Tell me, did he give you a beautiful ring?”

“See for yourself.” Emily descended the stairs, holding our her hand. “He said he bought the ring when he was in Paris. After the Black and White Ball he knew the ring belonged to me.”

“Saints and all the angels. I could buy a village back home with such a thing.” Molly peered at the ring, then Emily. “Perhaps he’ll take you to Paris for your honeymoon, miss.”

“Yes, perhaps.” Emily drew her hand back, examining her diamond. “We’ll stay for a month.” She shifted her attention back to Molly. Their eyes locked for a long moment. “What? Tell me.”

“The week of the Black and White you wept in your room over Daniel Ludlow.” Molly turned slowly for the kitchen.

“I still loved him. But that’s changed.” Emily scurried after her. “What are you trying to say, you wicked maid?”

“Just that I heard you weeping. Care for some milk, miss?” Molly popped open the icebox.

“Milk? Why would I want milk?” Molly acted so strangely at times.

“Are you sure you don’t care for milk?” Molly set the milk bottle on the worktable, then went to the cupboard for glasses.

“If I wanted milk I’d get it myself. What are you up to, Molly? You don’t like milk. I’ve heard you say it a hundred times.”

“But you like milk.”

In the dark kitchen Emily could only perceive Molly’s expression in the pale light of the moon. “It’s Daniel’s letters. Where are they? In Father’s den?”

“You certainly don’t think he’d hide them in here, do you?” Molly snickered into her glass but never took a drink.

“Then where?”

“He’s me boss, miss. Butters me bread, and I’m kinda likin’ the taste by now.” Molly held up the half-full glass of milk. “Sure you won’t be wanting a glass of milk? Milk is very good. I miss fresh milk from the cows. Remember when we had a cow, miss? Bessy. She’d moo at all hours of the day and night. Now we have a man delivering our milk on the ice cart. I tell you I don’t miss milking the old girl meself. Ah, she was a stubborn old broad, like me Grammy Killian.”

“Molly, stop talking about—” Emily jutted around the table, laying her hand on Molly’s arm so the milk in her glass sloshed up the sides. “The stable. Father hid the letters in the stable?”

Molly eyed her over the rim of her glass. “I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about, letters and cows and nonsense. Nothing in that stable but smelly horses and a musty ole hayloft.”

“The loft.” Emily darted to a drawer where Molly kept the matches. The lantern already waited by the door.

“You’re not going now are you, miss?”

“Why wait until the morning when Father might get it in his head to move them?” Emily lit the lamp, pausing at the door.