By the time they were free to change their own clothing, the light in the rainy sky was failing. Patricia donned her white muslin gown threaded with silver embroidery and pearls, and arranged her hair carefully with combs. “This dress is inappropriate for this weather,” she mumbled as Calanthia fastened her into it. But she felt like herself again, the girl she had been when she first met him, full of the excitement of life’s mysterious offerings. “You are beautiful,” Calanthia said with unaccustomed quiet. “Almost mystical.” “Are you well, Callie?” “If I had not been so foolish, Aunt Elsbeth would be joining us for dinner now, or we would already be at our cousins’ house.” “Our cousins can wait,” and whatever errand Oliver had set her upon. She would not be dictated to by her husband ever again. Or by anyone else. Beginning now she would follow her heart.
