AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mrs. Adler did say that the glue was highly flammable, but there’s nothing to worry about. She’s a genius. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that you misplaced her masterpiece of a bonnet before you’d even had a chance to wear it in public.”
“You know this is a blindfold, not a mask?”
“Psyche was kept blindfolded so she wouldn’t see her monstrous bridegroom—and then your Cupid will appear from the crowd and replace your blindfold with this mask.” She removed Beatrice’s spectacles and placed a yellow silk mask studded with diamonds and edged by more white butterflies on her face, tying it with a bow at the back of her head.
“Is Lord Mayhew my Cupid? If so, I need to talk to you about something—”
“Not now, Beatrice. Not now. I have so manypreparations to make. All you have to do is recline upon your bower and look beautiful. You look so lovely tonight. You make me so proud.” Her mother wiped a tear away from her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief.
Beatrice had pined to hear those words as a child, but tonight they left her hollow.
“Your mask slipped, darling. Make sure it’s tightly secured.”
And there it was.You look beautiful.And then,Makesure you stay covered.
Her mother left the room.
Beatrice sat on the bower in her cheerful yellow gown with its army of chaste butterflies.
She didn’t feel very bright and cheerful. All of this pretending to be docile, chaste, and decorous was beginning to be ridiculous. After what she’d done with Ford, the freedom and abandon she’d experienced, she didn’t want to pretend anymore.
She wanted to be truly herself from this moment forth.
“Knock, knock,” a voice called and Isobel and Viola entered the room.
Isobel was dressed all in gold silk. She raised her arms, showing Beatrice the gold chains and round gold basins attached to her wrists. “I do love a costume that precludes me from being able to dance, for fear of knocking some poor bloke about the head with a gold scale.”
Beatrice chuckled. “And what are you, Viola?”
“You can’t tell?” Viola did a little twirl. “I’m a viola, of course. Can’t you see the scrolls and strings I painted on this old gown?”
“Now that you mention it I do see some squiggles.”
“We smuggled in a bottle of Henrietta’s wine,” said Viola. “We thought you might require fortification.”
A lump rose in Beatrice’s throat. She loved her friends. “Thank you.”
“Oh dear. What is that thing you’re sitting on?” Viola asked.
“It’s meant to be my bridal bower,” she said glumly. “I’m Psyche. And no doubt my mother told Mayhew to come dressed as Cupid. I’m to be wheeled into the ballroom on this thing.”
“And your gown is... well, it’s... words fail me,” Isobel said.
“Instead of a Grecian robe, my mother has imagined me as some sort of yellow burst of sunshine, dripping with glass beading and butterflies. I think I’m going to blind everyone. Pass me some wine.”
“I brought glasses.” Isobel pulled three glasses out of her reticule.
“I’m supposed to wear this blindfold.” Beatrice held up the silk cloth. “She doesn’t want anyone seeing my face until the very last moment.”
Viola sighed. “I’m sorry, Beatrice.”
“My mother... I love her but...”
“It’s always difficult with mothers,” said Isobel. “They want the best for us but can’t seem to trulyseeus.”
“She told me that I looked beautiful, and then, in the very same breath, told me to keep my mask tightly secured. Those two things can’t exist together anymore. I don’t want to stay covered, hidden away. Not anymore. I want to be me.”
She sipped her wine. “Perhaps I should spill red wine all over this gown.”
