Page 116 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

Evie entered the vestry behind them, carrying the flowing piece of white netting draped over her arms. It was as finely wrought as a cobweb, and was, like the wedding dress, embroidered with butterflies.

“I’m sensing a theme,” Anne remarked, smiling as Evie affixed the gauzy veil to Stella’s upswept silver hair.

“Mira says that the butterflies are a symbol of transformation,” Evie told her. “Stella has begun the day as an innocent young maiden and shall be ending it as a respectably married lady.”

“Transformed by love into a butterfly,” Julia said. “How romantic.”

“Indeed,” Stella replied. “Though it seems to imply that I was a caterpillar before.”

It also implied that Teddy loved her.

Which wasn’t precisely true. They were friends, certainly. And doubtless he was fond of her. There was attraction there, too, as evidenced by the kisses and embraces they had shared. But was it love? Or was it still inextricably tied up in his passion for painting her? That was, after all, what had started it.

Try as she might, Stella couldn’t rid herself of the niggling premonition that, when he was at last finished with his masterpiece, he would be finished with her as well.

And he was nearly done, she knew, though she still hadn’t seen the portrait yet.

All that remained was for him to paint her en plein air—out of doors, along the Thames, the atmosphere of which, Teddy claimed, would stand in for the sea. He’d already chosen the drape Stella would wear. It was a soft, creamy pearl tulle, adorned with mother-of-pearl paillettes. Ahmad had sewn it over a flowing, sleeveless muslin shift that, when worn, would give the appearance that Stella was clad in nothing but the netting, while still preserving her modesty.

It was that which she was thinking of, even as she smiled with her friends, and readied herself for her walk down the aisle. Of the small but persistent fear that she and Teddy were reaching the end of things rather than embarking on a new beginning together.

“Who is giving you away?” Anne asked. “Not your brother, I presume.”

Stella’s smile dimmed to think of Daniel. She willed it back again. Today wasn’t about regretting the family she’d lost. It was about celebrating the family she had. And friends were family, too. Often more than family, for friends were the family you chose.

“Ahmad is giving me away,” she said. “It seemed right to ask him. After living with him and Evie for so many weeks, I’ve come to look on him as something like a brother.”

“He was honored,” Evie said. “Truly. He takes the responsibility very seriously.”

Julia helped to adjust Stella’s veil. “I had a peep into the church before I arrived. There were several strangers in the pews.”

“I recognized the Finchleys,” Anne said. “And Mira and Mr. Jones. But the other couples were unknown to me.”

“It’s Mr. and Mrs. Thornhill and Mr. and Mrs. Cross,” Stella said. “They’re friends of Mr. Hayes’s family, and have come to stand in for Mr. and Mrs. Archer.”

“His family couldn’t come themselves?” Julia asked.

“His sister is entering her confinement and unable to travel from France,” Stella explained. “And his aged Aunt Charlotte couldn’t attend, either, on account of having a weak heart. They both wrote very kind letters, however. And Mr. and Mrs. Archer sent a lovely gift.”

It was an exquisite ormolu clock. Stella had put it above the mantel in Teddy’s studio. It wasn’t the first bit of homeliness she’d added to the house in Maiden Lane. There was a new sofa and chairs for the parlor, a carved walnut dining set, and a large mahogany wardrobe for the bedroom.

Teddy had encouraged Stella to purchase whatever she needed, and told her to have the bills sent to him. He wasn’t rich, but neither was he poor. And he was by no means tightfisted.

“They’re here in spirit, I’m sure,” Evie said.

Julia’s gaze shimmered. She always grew emotional at weddings. “And Mr. Hayes has you now.”

“And I have him,” Stella said resolutely. She refused to let any more doubts steal her joy.

Ahmad entered the vestry. He wore a smart-looking morning coat with gray trousers. His thick black hair was combed into meticulous order. “It’s time,” he said.

Anne, Julia, and Evie bustled around Stella in a final rush, adjusting her skirts, straightening her veil, and putting her bouquet of lavender and roses into her hands.

“There,” Anne said. “You’re ready.”

“You’re perfect,” Evie said.

“The prettiest bride ever,” Julia agreed.