During Victorian times, black clothing was de rigueur for funeral guests. “Widow’s weeds,” black, concealing clothes often of silk bombazine and heavy veils of silk crêpe, were usually worn for more than a year. Black silk was also used for mourning accessories like handkerchiefs, umbrellas, hats, and shoes. —The History of Silk by Harold Verner There was no news for weeks. At first I didn’t worry. Stefan was brave and smart, and he had promised me faithfully that he would avoid danger wherever he could. There were so many reminders of him that I felt he was still with me. Gwen and I took Mother for a walk in the bluebell woods and we gasped at the shimmering display that nature provided, year after year, in defiance of everything happening around us. The same blue as the sapphires in my ring, I thought, twisting it on my finger and recalling Stefan’s proposal. Was it just five months ago? A lifetime had passed since then. June brought the willow fluff that always reminded me of that day on the bench, when Stefan and I first held each other.
