'Oh, I hope she’s crying tears of joy'

Luncheon ended lightly. The relieved faces of the couple satisfied Amelia, and then it was she who was facing a huge blockade on the road next.

"I don't really want to wear it," the duchess murmured as her three ladies-in-waiting stared at the mountain of fabric laid out on her bed. "I told Madame Camellia that I wanted something simple. She said this is the simplest I could wear for a wedding."

"It's Madame Camellia, alright." Christa chuckled, shaking her head. "Where do we even start?"

"I bet we'd still be figuring things out right before the wedding. And we need to change too." Arabella stated and it couldn't be even more obvious.

"How about we begin now?" Amelia glared. Annoyed, not at her ladies-in-waiting but to the dress. The other three understood so they didn't mind. "Shall we call a maid over? Another extra hand?" she sounded more concerned after a while. There's only less than three hours before the bride's parade around town is over, and the wedding will begin.

"We'll consider this one as training since you'd be attending more events like this once you're done with your debutante's ball."

The fabrics were pale rose. Usually, it would be white, but Amelia didn't want to upstage the actual bride—plus red is her color—so she requested that her dress is in a different hue. First were her undergarments, followed by a thin corset that held her strapless chemise together. Next, a thin underskirt went down to her ankle. Seeing the hooped skirt that Christa brought over, Amelia grimaced. She hated hooped skirts more than she hated wearing corsets. After that order was finished, a bustle pad was tied around her waist and a stiff petticoat was added. The first ones alone were already restricting. She could barely sit comfortably.

After the petticoat was attached, a second underskirt went over Amelia's head. Laila fixed it on her waist and made adjustments. The skirt needed to cover her feet with space only for the tip of her shoes to be seen when she walked. When Laila and Christa were done Arabella walked over with more fabric, and the duchess couldn't help but let out a long sigh.

There was a soft overskirt of the same color with embroidered roses just a little bigger than a teardrop. Next, another layered frilled overskirt that's opened in the front was secured in place.

"Are you alright?" Arabella had the guts to tease after Amelia was left standing in the middle of the room, both her hands on her hips.

"Hands down to all the women who manage to wear this every single time. I should thank Uncle Vance for attending all those balls for me. I don't think I can wear another one of these for weeks."

"Oh, we're not done yet. Right, Christa?" the duchess turned to where her lady assassin was looking and saw what was in Christa's hands. The new lady-in-waiting beamed as if excited for the duchess, but all Amelia showed was a gawky half-smile.

The fitted bodice was of the same fabric with at least eight soft bones and a round neckline with fine silk braid edging showed a little of the duchess' bust. The slightly pointed front was to hide the bands of the skirt. As Laila and Christa tightened it at the back, Amelia almost cried when she saw Arabella walking closer with another piece in her hands. She wanted to scream and throw pillows and take every single thing off. But she knew she's left with no other choice.

"Last one, I promise," Arabella handed the sleeved jacket to Laila, and with much abhorrence, Amelia carefully pushed her arms through. Compared to the bodice, the jacket has slightly rigid bones to hold its shape. The sleeves were stiff and fell just above her elbows with short cascading ruffles of delicate lace.

"Last one?" Amelia looked at Christa and she replied with a nod. Her gaze transferred to Laila and received the same response. Overcome with a sigh of relief, Amelia walked to the edge of her bed and leaned forward, her wrists supporting her. "I want to lay down," she said, her dress barely letting her bend any further.

The other three just chuckled and told Amelia that they needed to do her hair this time.

"Just call a maid or someone else. You three should go and change yourselves. Your maids will be with you once you call for them."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Now, leave and fetch me someone to do my hair. I want this done and over with." Amelia turned her head to face Christa who asked. Then she pushed herself upright, grunting. Laila gave her a hand and assisted her to sit on the dresser's stool.

When her three ladies-in-waiting left, a knock sounded not long after. It was Ancel. He let the duchess know that the maid has arrived. Amelia permitted her entrance and when she was across the threshold, the duchess noticed a letter in her hand.

"I didn't get your name earlier. What should I call you?" the duchess only turned her head since she's stuck in her stool, and she doesn't want to embarrass herself by asking the young maid's help.

"Everyone calls me Marie, your grace." She curtsied and then reached both her hands to the duchess. "The knight outside told me to give this to you."

"Thank you, Marie." The paper was slightly crumpled at the sides which could mean that it has traveled a bit. And anything that has traveled a bit meant either two things; it's urgent that couldn't wait for when she gets back or—

'From your love, Lex.' Amelia read in her mind as a smile cracked her stoic face.

**********

Making her way through the sea of guests that have gathered at the small chapel of the Rosewall Estate, Amelia made sure to talk for at least a minute or two with everyone she greeted or greeted her.

"You seem cheerful," Amelia looked back at the sudden remark from her side.

"Why shouldn't I? Today's a special day for Constance. She's getting married. That's something to be cheerful about."

"One, you hate your dress, and here you are going from one person to another, gliding as if you're walking on clouds. There's no one you haven't greeted. And second, the bride is not here yet and she's already a few minutes late. Even her parents are worried and won't stop looking outside."

"Oh, please Arabella. I'm positive that she's going to arrive soon. You're reading too much of the situation."

The lady-in-waiting was about to answer her, but someone took the duchess' attention and Amelia was more than happy to entertain, leaving Arabella huffing air of annoyance.

"Was it a bad time to take your attention away?" asked the man taller than Amelia by a few inches. He seemed like a new face, but his hair was just like hers—silver. In some parts of the world, silver hair might be common, but not in Creador. Hers was already eye-catching enough and Vernon said she it's common from where her mother came from. Even Vance has the same hue, though she couldn't find it in the records where exactly.

"It's… okay." Amelia's words trailed to almost a whisper. "Are you from around here?"

"I'm not interested in having a lover at the moment, especially one that holds such a high position as yourself," a playful smile appeared on the man's face when he straightened himself after whispering to the duchess' ear.

Taken aback by the warm breath that brushed the side of her face, she quickly warmed up and reddened. Suddenly, the dress felt restricting again. She was starting to sweat despite the wind that passed through the opened windows.

"I b-beg your pardon?" Amelia's voice rose a pitch higher.

"Oh, I didn't mean to offend you, duchess…" the guy held both his hands up but the smirk on his face and his bright pale green eyes stayed. "Let me introduce myself," he placed a palm on his chest, bowed deeply, and continued, "Oswyn Burltonn, your grace. Everybody calls me Ossie."

"Amelia Cicely Florence, Sir—"

"Oh no, not a Sir or anyone with a title. Just Ossie. I'm a scholar at the Keep. Does everybody call you Cice?" again with bright twinkling eyes that didn't seem to know any kind of hardships.

"No, everybody calls me…" Amelia trailed off again. She didn't feel good conversing with Oswyn. There's something about him that slightly bothered her, but she couldn't tell exactly what. "Everybody calls me Duchess, or Duchess Amelia, or better yet Duchess Florence."

"Oh," Oswyn's playful smile changed to an awkward one, scratching the back of his head. "Well, you can still call me Ossie, Duchess."

"I didn't see you at the Keep." Amelia probed. Of all the places she's familiarized herself with was the Keep. When she returned from Aclador, she was set to be exceptional both physically and mentally. Amelia used to sleep at the Keep just so she could start her lessons early. Up until recently, there wasn't a week where she wouldn't visit the Keep at least once. So, she's positive that she hadn't seen Oswyn there.

"I'm new. Arrived just last week," he answered looking elsewhere.

"Isn't it a bit rude to be looking around when you're talking?" Amelia could accept some ignoring and the like, but somehow, Oswyn's pulling a different nerve compared to the others. She was about to continue asking but the trumpets that led the bride's parade around town emerged at the distance corner followed by a white carriage pulled by three magnificent stallions. Their manes, silky and long, were softly braided with small white ribbons to decorate them.

Everyone's attention passed through the door. Aside from the guests inside the chapel, following the carriage was a small parade of townspeople, both young and old, waving handkerchiefs and cheers to the lady of Fedan. After the wedding, there would be a huge feast at Fedan's square for everybody, while the guests celebrate at the banquet hall of the estate for dinner, though everyone's welcome at the square for some dancing and merry-making.

The men with their musical instruments finally entered the chapel and everyone made their way to their seats. Not long after, the carriage made a stop at the chapel entrance with its door facing the altar. Before the bride was allowed to come into view, the door at the left of the dais opened, and came out the priest that would be presiding the wedding. Then dressed in his knight's uniform with the addition of his family's sigil to represent himself of his current title, Sir Ralphe Whytton, now Marquis Whytton followed. Behind him was Constance's younger brother wearing a neat-looking black suit adorned with a brooch of the Rosewall family sigil.

Having the highest title of all the guests, Amelia sat on the first row of the church's nave, nearest the dais. As there was no one with the same title as hers, she sat by herself. Behind her were Vance, Christa, Arabella, and Laila. Opposite to them were the bride and grooms' families. The other guests got to seat wherever they wanted.

Music started again then a choir of kids from town sang at their designated chancel located on the right side, between the nave and the altar. Not long after, the carriage door opened, and everyone's eyes fell on it. The first to come down was Constance's younger sister, Mabel, to assist her with her dress. She was wearing a simple white dress that touched the ground with a little trail behind her. The sleeves were fitted, and her waist cinched with a small band of the same lace fabric that covered her dress. Mabel's hair was braided and turned into a bun with a flower band across her hair.

Constance's sister had her back on the entrance when the choir already finished the first song. With the starting melody of the second, Amelia looked at Isabel worriedly. Both parents looked anxious. Some eyes shifted from the carriage to the groom then back to the carriage. Everyone wanted to discern what the siblings were talking about.

"Oh, I hope she's crying tears of joy," Christa voiced out uneasily too.