Chapter 4 - Four

Chapter 4 -Four

The air in the modiste’s shop was filled with the scent of lace and fine fabric. Delia stood on a small platform, in front of a tall mirror, encased in the heavy, ugly wedding gown. The dress was a monstrous creation of antique lace, puffed sleeves, and yards of rustling silk. It felt like a cage, suffocating her.

"Do you have any idea how to make it plainer?" Lady Pembroke, George’s mother, asked the modiste, her voice tight with concern. "You see, this is our family heirloom. It has been passed down from generations till it got to me. I wore it on my wedding and now it’s going to my daughter in law."

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