"Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
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XI.
After two weeks of diligent and delicate sewing, Susanna's gown was completed just in time for the wedding. It was perfect. It was a masterpiece. Belle wished she had some sort of way to capture the memory of what would be the most beautiful garment she would ever create.
Throwing herself into the making of Susanna's wedding gown had been a godsend to distract herself from the burgeoning feelings in her heart towards Peter Denham, but it had also been an important reminder of what Belle really wanted to make out of her life.
As much as she appreciated making a wage at the grocer, and as much as she was grateful for the work from the people of Ashwood, Belle's dreams were bigger than that. She had talent. She knew it in her soul. Belle had the ability to create magnificent things, and it was honestly saddening to think that Susanna's wedding gown would be the first and last creation of that kind for her.
Belle had dreams. But so did many of the people whom she had known in Saint-Martin. Dreams were not achievable for people like them. Belle had already done the unthinkable. She had escaped. She was free. She was a free woman of colour. All of her dreams, every one of her wishes and prayers, had already been used up. To ask more of God was selfish and unreasonable ... and so very unrealistic.
"Susanna ..." uttered Cecily breathlessly as she clapped her hands over her mouth.
Belle couldn't help the fluttering of pride she felt at seeing tears in the dowager duchess' eyes. Belle had never before seen such emotion in her.
Susanna beamed as she ran her hands over the skirt of her gown. She was stunning. The most beautiful bride there ever was. Not that Belle had been privy to many weddings, but she was quite certain that there had never been such a bride as Susanna Beresford before.
Susanna's golden hair was styled intricately under her veil. Her soft, feminine figure simply melted into the wedding gown. The dress, itself, was a beautiful champagne silk colour with a net of white lace over top. The short, layered puff sleeves were perfect for an early autumnal wedding. Belle had embroidered Haitian hibiscus flowers in silver thread over the lace, a labour that had taken her hours upon hours, nearly making her fingers bleed. But the result was worth it. The silk and embroidered lace continued through the marvellous train of the gown, giving the bride and air of grandeur and drama, as she was certain to be the centre of all focus when she entered the church.
"Belle, what you have managed to do ..." gasped Grace. "Why, I have never seen anything so meticulously beautiful. You are an artist."
Belle felt deeply prideful. "Thank you," she said appreciatively.
"It is, without a doubt, the gown of my dreams ... and the flowers, Belle!" gushed Susanna as she traced over one of the hibiscus flowers with her index finger. "It is perfect. Thank you, my friend."
Belle smiled. "You are welcome ... my friend." To speak those words meant a lot to her.
"How are we to get through this day without crying?" Grace asked exasperatedly as she fanned her face.
"We're not!" declared Claire as she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
"Don't you start, or I will!" Susanna begged.
But then Cecily let out a sound that Belle had never heard before. It was a sob, and she quickly pulled her daughter into her arms and hugged her tightly. "How can I part with you? How can I do it?" she asked emotionally. "How could you leave me?"
YOU ARE READING
A Defiant Liaison
Historical FictionBelle Desjardins has officially begun her life over, leaving the life of a slave back in Saint-Martin. But as much as she tries, she is still haunted by the nightmares and memories of an existence that was worse than death. Belle is determined to hi...