Marrok

Chapter 20

Jane wore a pale blue velvet tunic with a fashionable squared neck, embroidered with silver thread depicting ivy leaves that wove downwards to a tapered waistline. Her split skirts, splayed out to reveal inserts of white silk. Her hair was pinned into soft curls with mother-of-pearl combs, some escaping to fall upon her cheekbone hiding one of the pearl drop earrings that her mother had gifted her that morning. The weight of the large pearl necklet hung heavy on her delicate neck and she was finding it difficult to remain still for the painter that stood before her.She tried to focus her view upon the portrait of her aunt on the wall, and let her mind wander to Marrok, imagining what her life was soon to be like as his wife. Her thoughts were interrupted by the painter who complained about the light within the room and asked her again to stop fidgeting. Jane gave out a sigh, convinced she had not moved an inch but said nothing in protest. The painter, Louis Perno, was famed for his talent, and she knew her father was paying him a small fortune for his work, so she begrudgingly endured the arduous sitting. At least she wasn't being pricked with pins, as she had been during the fittings with the dressmaker for the garment she now wore; the dress she would soon be wed in.

Nerves had already begun to gnaw away at the initial happiness she had felt when her father had readily agreed to a marriage between her and Marrok. She had spent her whole life at Aberon, surrounded by people she knew and loved and was within an hour's ride away from both Mary and Seren whose friendship she had known for as far back as she could remember. White Haven was not as far as the city of Treggorne, but the journey there required planning and she knew visits back home to Aberon would be few and far between. Her life would now be tied to Marrok and White Haven, with its bustling village, the acclaimed vineyards, and the fertile pasturelands that surrounded it. She would be the lady of a realm far different to that of Aberon, with its woodlands and tenant farmers.

Louis peered from behind his canvas and swished his long, thin paintbrush in the air before applying further fine details to his masterpiece. With a final flurry of brush strokes, he stood back and admired his work before announcing it was finished.

Jane breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him for his patience with her. She rubbed the back of her neck to relieve the tension as the painter cleaned his brushes and tidied everything away with precision. Once he had everything safely gathered into a highly polished wooden box, he instructed that no one touch the artwork until after the wedding day to ensure the paint had dried and bade Jane farewell, leaving the portrait on the easel.

Jane used the arms of the chair for support as she raised herself up and walked to the easel to see for herself how the painter had envisaged her.

A young woman with pale blue eyes and sandy, brown hair that hung in soft curls, accentuated with the glimmer of pearls looked back at her. She looked at the portrait of her aunt hung on the nearby wall and noticed she bore the same small, slightly upturned nose. She had never met her aunt and only heard of her life from her father. It was strange to think that she bore a resemblance to someone who lived before she was born and she had always thought looked so poised and graceful.

"You look very beautiful," came Seren's voice from the doorway.

"Seren," exclaimed Jane, rushing to greet her. "I was not expecting to see you before the wedding."

They embraced and kissed each other on their cheeks.

"I've brought you a wedding gift," said Seren holding out a small blue glass bottle with a silver stopper.

"Oh Seren, it's beautiful. Fragrances like these are so expensive, you should not have indulged me with such a gift," replied Jane, blushing.

"It's your wedding day in a couple of days and I wanted to ensure you smell as desirable as you look for your new husband," said Seren, placing the bottle into Jane's hands.