The rustle of silk and lace filled the little sewing room, overlaying the busy silence of a young woman hard at work. Nimble fingers wielded a needle with skill, carefully drawing strips of rough silk into small open roses, ready to be stitched neatly along the neckline of the gown that adorned a dressmaker's mannequin in a corner of the room itself. The pattern had been changed, and changed again, each alteration a reflection of the time that had elapsed between the proposal and the oft-postponed wedding itself, and a reflection, too, of the growing confidence of the young bride who worked so diligently upon it herself, content to wait as long as it took to change her name and become the wife of the man she loved so dearly.
Jessamin smiled to herself as she set her row of silk roses to one side, rising to her feet to stretch and relieve a little of the ache in her back. After more than a year in the liberal society of Rhy'Din, her time was structured once again, but by no one's hand but her own. It was she who had chosen to spend her time thus - to complete her hours at the florist where she worked, and to bring herself here, to Will's boarding house, where his landlady, the inestimable Mrs Middleton, had set aside space in her own sewing room for Jessamin to work on her wedding dress. When Will returned from the work he had been forced to take to tide himself over the winter, she would halt in her sewing and join him for the evening meal, and as the weather grew less changeable, he would walk her back to her lodgings in the evenings.
But as content as she was to weather the delays, she was impatient for the day when she would come here to stay, living with him as his wife. They had both been eager to join hands before the year had changed, yet circumstances had prevented that wish from being made true. One month had become two. Two had become three. As the winter had taken hold, Will had had no choice but to abandon his aeroplane and look for menial work in and around the city, simply to pay his own way. As much as she chafed at each indignity he had to suffer, she never told him of it, staying warm and true, consistently faithful in her beloved pilot, promising him that spring would bring fine weather and his own profession back to him once again.
Yet winter had been a long, messy affair this year, keeping him grounded almost longer than he could bear, and Jessamin did not like to test Will's patience too often by mentioning her own small reserve of savings. He wanted to buy her a ring and would accept no help in the matter, even from old Mrs Middleton. And so the two young lovers waited together, each impatient but unwilling to rush one another.
Jessamin had chosen to make use of the time as she could. She had coaxed and cajoled Mrs Middleton into teaching her how to cook, or at least, how to bake simple goods. Her fair hands, still smooth and white, now bore the proud scars of burns from the oven. She could bake bread and muffins, small dainties that she was assured would make Will smile and always seemed to whenever she had shyly presented him with the fruits of her afternoons.
Yet even with these lessons to take her time, she could not delay the gown any further. A single hour more would see the roses sewn into place, and then Jessamin would no longer be able to use her trousseau as a mask to soften the hardship of their constant delays any further. Her gown was complete; her underthings and nightgown were finished; even the new linens she had sewn for their marriage bed had been hemmed and stored weeks beforehand. She had deliberately delayed this last crucial step, cushioning Will's pride with a gentle pretense of her own slow progress, but that mask was now gone.
She did not need a ring. She did not need anything but Will, and yet he wanted to do things the right way. And so she waited, biding her time through the hatefully bad weather, awaiting the time when he could return to the skies and be glad of his own employment once again. And surely it could not be too long now? Spring had come, and her beloved pilot had taken to the skies once more. With summer fast approaching, Jessamin found herself hoping against hope that it would not be much longer, and she found herself still content to delay, until the time finally came. He was worth waiting for.
Jessamin smiled to herself as she set her row of silk roses to one side, rising to her feet to stretch and relieve a little of the ache in her back. After more than a year in the liberal society of Rhy'Din, her time was structured once again, but by no one's hand but her own. It was she who had chosen to spend her time thus - to complete her hours at the florist where she worked, and to bring herself here, to Will's boarding house, where his landlady, the inestimable Mrs Middleton, had set aside space in her own sewing room for Jessamin to work on her wedding dress. When Will returned from the work he had been forced to take to tide himself over the winter, she would halt in her sewing and join him for the evening meal, and as the weather grew less changeable, he would walk her back to her lodgings in the evenings.
But as content as she was to weather the delays, she was impatient for the day when she would come here to stay, living with him as his wife. They had both been eager to join hands before the year had changed, yet circumstances had prevented that wish from being made true. One month had become two. Two had become three. As the winter had taken hold, Will had had no choice but to abandon his aeroplane and look for menial work in and around the city, simply to pay his own way. As much as she chafed at each indignity he had to suffer, she never told him of it, staying warm and true, consistently faithful in her beloved pilot, promising him that spring would bring fine weather and his own profession back to him once again.
Yet winter had been a long, messy affair this year, keeping him grounded almost longer than he could bear, and Jessamin did not like to test Will's patience too often by mentioning her own small reserve of savings. He wanted to buy her a ring and would accept no help in the matter, even from old Mrs Middleton. And so the two young lovers waited together, each impatient but unwilling to rush one another.
Jessamin had chosen to make use of the time as she could. She had coaxed and cajoled Mrs Middleton into teaching her how to cook, or at least, how to bake simple goods. Her fair hands, still smooth and white, now bore the proud scars of burns from the oven. She could bake bread and muffins, small dainties that she was assured would make Will smile and always seemed to whenever she had shyly presented him with the fruits of her afternoons.
Yet even with these lessons to take her time, she could not delay the gown any further. A single hour more would see the roses sewn into place, and then Jessamin would no longer be able to use her trousseau as a mask to soften the hardship of their constant delays any further. Her gown was complete; her underthings and nightgown were finished; even the new linens she had sewn for their marriage bed had been hemmed and stored weeks beforehand. She had deliberately delayed this last crucial step, cushioning Will's pride with a gentle pretense of her own slow progress, but that mask was now gone.
She did not need a ring. She did not need anything but Will, and yet he wanted to do things the right way. And so she waited, biding her time through the hatefully bad weather, awaiting the time when he could return to the skies and be glad of his own employment once again. And surely it could not be too long now? Spring had come, and her beloved pilot had taken to the skies once more. With summer fast approaching, Jessamin found herself hoping against hope that it would not be much longer, and she found herself still content to delay, until the time finally came. He was worth waiting for.