Susan was tucked up in bed, suffering from a chill and officially relieved of bridesmaid duty. There was no indication of who would replace her. The events of the night before had cast a pall over proceedings. Susan might protest it had all been an unfortunate accident, but Clara was not alone in thinking otherwise. The atmosphere around the breakfast table that morning had been particularly tense. Somehow uncle Eustace had managed to have the sense to not put in an appearance. As Clara arranged her dress and brushed her hair she agitated herself by thinking Susan’s swim was a rather bad omen. To begin blissful nuptials with such a near tragedy in peoples’ minds seemed hardly fortuitous. It made Clara uncomfortable, almost nervous. “I think too much.” Clara scolded herself, putting down her brush and glancing at herself in the mirror. She wondered if Susan had any mascara? It was as good an excuse as any to check on her. “I’m too curious as well.” Clara nagged herself as she left the room, but it didn’t stop her heading upstairs to Susan’s bedroom.
