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Since her mother had gotten sick, Beatrice had been seeing less and less of her. She'd thought initially it would be the opposite, that with Catherine bedridden Beatrice would be at her side every instant she was able to. She hadn't considered how seeing her mother so frail and weak would hurt her so much. It felt like someone was trying to reach in take her organs one by one with every hacked cough that was ripped from Catherine's lungs.
"Mother," Beatrice coaxed her, reaching her arm out for Catherine, who was leaning against the outside wall of the church. "Please, go sit inside."
"Nonsense," she waved her daughter off. "I'm fine." She reached for Beatrice's hair, long and dark and flowing down over her white dress. "If your father or Alexander can't be here, then it's my job." The hunting party hadn't much luck, so they'd sent Daniel home early. They couldn't spare Phillip or Alexander, though, which meant that Catherine had to be the one to walk her oldest daughter down the aisle.
Catherine smoothed Beatrice's hair down, fussing over the placement of her dress.
It was an old dress, formerly white and now slightly discoloured with age. It hung around her feet and weighed her down. It had been Catherine's wedding dress to Beatrice's father almost twenty-five years earlier, and was in almost perfect condition. It had a straight neckline that raised at her shoulders and gigot sleeves. On the crown of her head she had a long veil that would be moved to cover her face when she went to walk down the aisle.
The whole town had come to watch the eldest daughter of the Hille family marry Daniel Compton, whose father was in consideration for mayor. The whole town also included every single one of Beatrice's friends; Hannah Miller, the daughter of the pastor who would be marrying her to Daniel, Lizzie McVey, who was acting as her de facto maid of honour as Beatrice's oldest friend, Abigail Berman, the oldest of the two Berman sisters, Sarah Fier, the sarcastic girl who lived at the end of the street, and, of course, Isaac.
She hadn't expected him to come, she'd cornered him the morning earlier and - selfishly, loathingly - promised him she still loved him. She needed him to know, know it was true even as she stood before him and God and declared that she loved Daniel Compton.
He didn't necessarily want to go and watch Beatrice marry someone else, but Isaac wasn't stupid. He could see the anguish in her eyes, the way she flinched whenever Daniel so much as came near her. He had been the one to watch every single tear roll down her neck as she confessed she did not wish to marry him.
And he watched as Catherine led her down the aisle, as Lizzie squeezed her hand at the end, and as Beatrice tensed up right before her new husband lent down to kiss her at Pastor Miller's blessing.
After that, the wind started. Whipping at the trees outside the church, whisking Beatrice away and out of his line of sight. He could still see Daniel, though, chatting with some of the older boys, showing off his simple golden wedding band.
