sleeves, and skirt that poofed into a gauzy bell over the bustle beneath, was all that she could hope for. The wide sash around her newly slender waist was tinted a pale gold, as were the ribbons on her silk shoes, complementing the lace. The rest of the dress was cream in color, chosen no doubt for the soft effect it had upon her redhead’s complexion. The only element she could have wished different was the airy scarf that was piled in high folds over her bosom, making her look something like a pouter pigeon and obscuring the lovely necklace.
The carriage started with a soft jolt, rolling slowly away from the house. Mrs. Moore and Marianne accompaniedher, the one to see to her emotional well-being, the other to repair any last minute imperfections in her appearance. Elle looked back at the house, newly astonished at its size, and wondered how the lawns were kept so neatly trimmed without benefit of a lawnmower.
The carriage passed under the shade of tall trees that lined the drive to the front gate, then turned onto the road and into sunlight. Open fields interspersed with pockets of woodland made up the scenery they passed through, and Elle drank it in with avid eyes. She had always wanted to see England and was not going to miss out on this chance to see what she could of it.
The distant, familiar barking of a dog brought her eyes to the crest of a hill, and her fingers gripped the window embrasure when she saw the white shape that was flying down the slope towards the carriage. For a moment she thought she was imagining things, then was certain of it when the boy she thought she saw chasing after Tatiana disappeared in a flash of sunlight. The joyous baying of her dog begged to differ.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Stop the carriage!” She leaned out the window, yelling at the driver. “Stop! Stop!” Marianne and Mrs. Moore erupted into babbles of concern, but Elle ignored them. The carriage finally slowed to a halt, and after several frustrating moments of fumbling, Elle released the catch on the door and fell to the ground outside. She had forgotten her clothes and their inhibition to her movement. She didn’t care, though, as she rolled over and pushed herself up in the dust, her wig now definitely awry, one ribbon streaming down over her shoulder.
“Tatiana! Here, girl! Tatiana!” she cried. Tatiana’s white ears lay flat against her head as she ran even faster, tongue lolling in a wide-open, joyful grin. Elle crawled a few feet into the field, then spread her arms as Tatiana barreled into her, her wet tongue slopping all over Elle’s carefully made-up face. Elle felt tears start in her eyes,hanging on her lashes and washing the primitive mascara onto her cheeks.
“Here, Tatiana, be careful; I have to get married in a few minutes,” she chided, but there was no reproof in her voice.
“Eleanor, what in God’s name are you doing?” came her mother’s distressed cry.
“Miss, miss, your hair! We’re going to be late, oh please, miss, let go of that dog,” Marianne wailed, stumbling from the carriage.
“I won’t let her go,” Elle stated, pressing her forehead against Tatiana’s. “She’s coming with us.”
“Eleanor Margaret, return to this carriage this instant. You are not bringing that dog with you.”
Elle turned and glared into the carriage, where Mrs. Moore sat appalled. “Oh, yes I am, and if you try to stop me I won’t marry the earl.”
“Insolence! Do you dare to threaten your own mother?”
“You know I do. You said yourself you know better than to argue when I have my mind set.” She held Mrs. Moore’s eyes with the strength of her determination, backed by her bottomless love for Tatiana, and the older woman slowly gave way, her cheeks flushed in anger.
“I vow, Eleanor, I think I shall be pleased to be rid of you. Let the earl handle your willful nature, and good luck to him.”
Elle untied the gold sash around her waist, then made a leash of it and led Tatiana
The carriage started with a soft jolt, rolling slowly away from the house. Mrs. Moore and Marianne accompaniedher, the one to see to her emotional well-being, the other to repair any last minute imperfections in her appearance. Elle looked back at the house, newly astonished at its size, and wondered how the lawns were kept so neatly trimmed without benefit of a lawnmower.
The carriage passed under the shade of tall trees that lined the drive to the front gate, then turned onto the road and into sunlight. Open fields interspersed with pockets of woodland made up the scenery they passed through, and Elle drank it in with avid eyes. She had always wanted to see England and was not going to miss out on this chance to see what she could of it.
The distant, familiar barking of a dog brought her eyes to the crest of a hill, and her fingers gripped the window embrasure when she saw the white shape that was flying down the slope towards the carriage. For a moment she thought she was imagining things, then was certain of it when the boy she thought she saw chasing after Tatiana disappeared in a flash of sunlight. The joyous baying of her dog begged to differ.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Stop the carriage!” She leaned out the window, yelling at the driver. “Stop! Stop!” Marianne and Mrs. Moore erupted into babbles of concern, but Elle ignored them. The carriage finally slowed to a halt, and after several frustrating moments of fumbling, Elle released the catch on the door and fell to the ground outside. She had forgotten her clothes and their inhibition to her movement. She didn’t care, though, as she rolled over and pushed herself up in the dust, her wig now definitely awry, one ribbon streaming down over her shoulder.
“Tatiana! Here, girl! Tatiana!” she cried. Tatiana’s white ears lay flat against her head as she ran even faster, tongue lolling in a wide-open, joyful grin. Elle crawled a few feet into the field, then spread her arms as Tatiana barreled into her, her wet tongue slopping all over Elle’s carefully made-up face. Elle felt tears start in her eyes,hanging on her lashes and washing the primitive mascara onto her cheeks.
“Here, Tatiana, be careful; I have to get married in a few minutes,” she chided, but there was no reproof in her voice.
“Eleanor, what in God’s name are you doing?” came her mother’s distressed cry.
“Miss, miss, your hair! We’re going to be late, oh please, miss, let go of that dog,” Marianne wailed, stumbling from the carriage.
“I won’t let her go,” Elle stated, pressing her forehead against Tatiana’s. “She’s coming with us.”
“Eleanor Margaret, return to this carriage this instant. You are not bringing that dog with you.”
Elle turned and glared into the carriage, where Mrs. Moore sat appalled. “Oh, yes I am, and if you try to stop me I won’t marry the earl.”
“Insolence! Do you dare to threaten your own mother?”
“You know I do. You said yourself you know better than to argue when I have my mind set.” She held Mrs. Moore’s eyes with the strength of her determination, backed by her bottomless love for Tatiana, and the older woman slowly gave way, her cheeks flushed in anger.
“I vow, Eleanor, I think I shall be pleased to be rid of you. Let the earl handle your willful nature, and good luck to him.”
Elle untied the gold sash around her waist, then made a leash of it and led Tatiana
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