The Price {Completed}

Chapter Seventeen

Three days after Hannabella arrived, Mr. Lennox woke me bright and early with a rough shake to my shoulder. I groaned, pulling my arms over my head and trying to retreat back into the relief of sleep. My legs ached from performances and rehearsals, and my body wanted nothing more than to rest. None of it mattered to Mr. Lennox. He shook me again until I forced my eyes open.

The sun had only just risen, and there was that newborn kind of light in the air. Everything was cold and my breath curled around me in white clouds. My fingers and toes ached with the chill.

Mr. Lennox stood over me, fully dressed and holding his cane and hat.

"Get dressed." He didn't wait for my reply before exiting my room to slam around a pot and some plates in preparation of a hurried breakfast.

Stumbling out of bed, I fished out my worn blue dress and shawl from where I'd shed them by the side of my bed.

"Not that one," Mr. Lennox said. "I hung what I want you to wear in your wardrobe."

Mr. Lennox often had me wear things that he bought me for specific occasions. My tastes ran a little too ordinary for the principal dancer of the Lennox Company. Mr. Lennox preferred dashing velvets in jewel tones, or lace in pitch black. I tried to rack my brain for an event happening later in the day which he might want me dressed for, but nothing came to mind. Chalking it up to sleep still fogging my memory, I shrugged it off and went to close my bedroom door.

After donning my chemise and stays, I opened the wardrobe door and found my new dress. I took one step back at the sight, my fingers buzzing. Hanging next to the full-length mirror was a gown of pure, snowy white.

My mouth dropped open. This was not a ballet costume, all flimsy and encrusted with fake crystals. Nor was it one of the gaudy party dresses in daring colors I wore to ballet functions. This was a gown of pure silk, with a full skirt and a train that pooled on the floor in a liquid puddle. The bodice frothed with airy lace, and beads dangled from little caps over the long sleeves. A garland of white felt orange-blossoms attached to a veil trimmed with pearls and seemingly infinite in length.

This was a wedding dress.

I sat heavily on the edge of my bed, my breath sucked from my body and my mind spinning to try and catch up to what my eyes saw.

Today was my wedding day. I knew it was inevitable ever since I accepted Mr. Lennox at that last royal party, but somehow I simultaneous thought it might never come. It seemed to exist in a plane of its own, existing but not quite existing. But here, now, it suddenly became alarmingly real. I would no longer be Nadia. I would be Nadia Lennox, permanently Mr. Lennox's dancer. Today I would finally become a part of something, truly. No more not quite belonging, no more not fitting in. I would soon be taking on a life that would firmly cement me in the world of dance. And while the thought of never having to give up the only home I ever knew held some sort of comfort, I also could not help but feel an impending wave of panic.

To stave off the feelings, I pinched the inside of my wrist until it bled and I could focus on the stinging pain. And before I could think of anything else, I stood up, dashing the tears from my cheeks and carefully laying out the dress on my bed.

I pulled on the petticoats first, which were plentiful and of just as good quality as the rest of the gown. They were all flounce and softness, and the shift felt like summer air against my skin. The stockings were blue watered silk, and the shoes were satin and high-heeled. The dress was a little difficult to manage on my own, but finally I struggled it into place. Thankfully the buttons were located on the side, under one arm, and I could enclose myself. It closed tightly in place, a perfect fit. After the many costumes he had made for me over the years, Mr. Lennox knew my size as if it were his own.