Left Outside Alone

20. Purple Silk Veil

June 23rd 1912...

Grace was uncertain on the way my corset should be tightened. The gown itself was restricting; however, my delicate condition required some space. The comments I would most likely receive did not interest me, for the bride would still get the most attention.

"I am afraid, Ma'am, this can't be tied more tightly..." she uttered.

Indeed. I could hardly breathe. But such a dress could only be worn that way.

"I could try and loosen it a little..." she added. "But it wouldn't look as pretty..."

"No, it is all right, Grace, I do not think any changes are necessary." I let out. "Help me into my dress now!"

Both being extremely careful, I was soon wearing this dreadful deep purple gown. As much as I liked Rose, I could not understand her sometimes. Her requirement for the wedding was that the church be decorated in all possible shades of purple; lavender would be the lightest colour allowed. Odd girl...

As I had no say in the matter, however, I decided not to interfere. Nor did Mrs. Hockley and Mrs. Dewitt Bukater. The former was pleased the wedding would finally take place; the latter insisted that Rose and Cal made a wonderful couple. What kind of a mother wishes this man to be her only daughter's husband?

"Doesn't that look terrible, Grace?" I said, as a way to get my mind off of things. "Have you ever seen a Matron of Honour dressed like she's about to attend a funeral?"

I noticed her brief glance through the mirror.

"I do not think so, Ma'am. I mean..."

"Don't I remind you of something of a fruit?" I joked. "A plum or something of the sort?"

"With all due respect, Ma'am, I would agree!"

My laughter was much needed:

"I should hope none of the journalists will be hungry then, when they write about the wedding!"

Grace laughed as well, while her hands were working unstoppably. The moment I sat in front of my boudoir, she started working her magic again. An experience and a talent unfitting of her young age. Whilst she was styling my hair into curls that would be turned into a wonderful, up-tight chignon, I was keeping myself occupied with deciding on my jewellery. No matter the wide variety I owed, no piece would be suiting for a dress of such a colour...

"Which stones do you think I should wear? Diamonds or sapphires?"

"I would not say that you should wear anything too fancy, Ma'am. I believe this here would do!" she replied, whilst choosing a simple and short diamond necklace.

As she continued working on my appearance, I would still think about the wedding. If only I could stop it! Cal was no man suitable for a wife, let alone to father children! These thoughts of mine were useless now, of course. What was done could not and would not be undone. Rebecca was born; Rose would marry her daughter's father. She'd live her life as Mrs. Caledon Hockley. Her eyes had so many more tears yet to cry.

Too deep into the trail of my thoughts I was, that I did not realise that Grace was done. She asked me if I required anything else.

"No, Grace, thank you! You did marvellously!"

If only I could say that for a certain man as well... Or should that be a mother, whose daughter would wed today?

I stared at myself in the mirror... There I was, a Hockley bride... How impossible it seemed a few weeks ago, how inevitable it felt now... They were waiting for me... Downstairs... One step at a time, and my life would stop... One step at a time, I would walk further and further away from Jack and a life of freedom... One step at a time, I was killing myself...