Pardoned on the Peak (Sequel to New World Sasanaichs)

Ten

Two Days later, all the necessary parts for a successful wedding party’d been pulled together, much to the surprise of the Grey and Dunsany women. Even though Róisín and what they now knew were a whole family of Elves swore it could be done, they hadn’t wanted to believe they really could pull off such a feat. However, they were faced with the evidence of it in the form of all the Flowers and other greenery that festooned the communal barn that was used strictly for hay storage, a feast befitting a King that was laid out on gaily-decorated tables, and most importantly, the attire of today’s bride.

        Considering they hadn’t wanted to get too far ahead of themselves upon setting out for the Colonies, the betrothed couple hadn’t picked an actual wedding date, just in case their request was denied. That meant that Isobel didn’t have the slightest thing resembling a wedding dress when she’d arrived at Morgan’s Peak, which’d obviously be a problem for the visiting British. And since it was too far and too Time-consuming to head down to even Woolam’s Creek since they hadn’t tried procuring such a thing on their way into the backcountry, that meant they needed a heavy dose of Creativity. Luckily, the Healer proved to be a Goddess-send right when they needed one most–not only did she’ve a dress relatively suitable, but she was Blessed talented with a needle and thread, so she could easily make any necessary alterations.

        When it was all said and done, she’d been outfitted in a dress similar to the one Geneva’d worn during her own wedding a few short months ago. However, this one sported a higher, more modest neckline that was more befitting to her more–well, modest personality and actually covered the entirety of her bosom. It also had actual sleeves that extended to her elbows, then flared in bells that looked almost like mini versions of the dress’ skirt, rather than something sheer that barely flared out from her elbows and barely passed for sleeves. On top of that, the white midsection was adorned with what appeared to be a Flower vine from hem to neckline, its outer sections a pale pink befitting her virginal status instead of any shade of gray.

        “Oh, you look simply splendid, my dear daughter,” Lady Dunsany gushed once she saw her in the dress.

        “You really think so, Mother?” the bride queried, sounding a hair uncertain.

        “Oh, shut your gob before I rip it off you and wear it down the aisle, myself in your stead,” her sister laughed. “Yes, you look absolutely stunning–and even if you didn’t, isn’t it better than having to wed in your shift or naught at all?”

        Isobel’s face heated up at the mere Thought.

        “She wouldna wed in her shift or bare skin, and I didna have this dress in storage,” Róisín said, more so reassuring the bride than anyone. “And worst came to worst, I’d have wrapped her up in one of me plaids and sent her down the aisle before I’d let her humiliate herself like that.”

        The group of womenfolk cracked up, even though they all knew she wouldn’t have gotten married in the plaid of any Scotch Clan, no matter how desperate her situation was.

        “Now, let us make haste wi’ getting everyone else ready,” she said. “I’ve quite a bit of hair to pin since Louisa and Minerva canna do it on their own and two bairns who’re gonna throw tantrums, and they’re no fed on Time.”

        “Fair enough, Róisín,” Geneva chuckled, grinning as she finally managed to pronounce her name correctly. “We don’t all have magick to exploit, after all.”

        “No to mention many of ye willna lemme use me magick on ye, even though ye watched me Heal Jamie’s back after I cut that scarred flesh off it the other Night,” the Healer laughed.