The Wedding Dress (11 page)

So Emily sat at home, college educated but trained for nothing, and waited. With Daniel gone and her friends either married or touring Europe, boredom drove her to the brink.

When Molly invited Emily to a suffrage meeting, she jumped at the offer. Something to do. Then Phillip called on her and her desperate heart yielded.

Emily’s engagement ring tapped against the glass as she angled against the window to see farther down the bustling avenue. Now she was getting married and she’d have a home of her own and be able to determine her own mind as Mrs. Phillip Saltonstall.

She’d most likely have an allowance at her disposal to give to whatever projects she deemed worthy. To shop whenever and wherever she wanted, the mistress of her own manor.

“Mercy, it’s warm in here.” Mother fanned herself with her gloves, then removed the pins from her hat.

Emily set her reticule and parasol on the table just inside the door. “I’ll see if I can open the window, Mother.”

“Mercy, no. There are people walking the streets. Do you want them to see you?”

“If it means I won’t faint from heat, then yes.” Emily shoved open the window and a broad gust filled the room. Thick and muggy, the outside air was pungent with city fragrances, tinted with the gray exhaust of the mills and mines. But Charlotte preferred it to the hot, stale air of Mrs. Caruthers’s workroom.

“Mercy.” Mother pinched her nose. “We either faint of heat in here or inhale the stench of mines.”

“It’s the smell of life, Mother.” Emily drew deep. “Gasoline, horses, the sweat of men, the perfume of women.” She glanced toward the narrow door through which the dressmaker had disappeared, turned to the window, and—careful of the dust—leaned over the sill.

A Model T driver spirited his rig ahead of a slow-moving, horse-drawn delivery cart. “Mother, let’s go to Newman’s for lunch.”

“Not today, I had Molly slice the roast beef—” Mother paused when Emily sighed. Much too loud, but it was too late to retrieve. “Well, all right, it is your wedding dress day.” She gripped Emily’s arm. “Don’t hang out the window like a dance hall girl. Emily dear, just so you know.” Mother’s voice warbled and her eyes watered. “Father and I are very proud of you. He was practically burst Sticirling his buttons the day after Phillip asked for your hand. He ordered fresh cigars to pass out at the club. You’ve grown into one of the most beautiful girls in Birmingham. You’re smart and talented, educated—which I insisted on—and you have a solid, sensible head on your shoulders. You will make Phillip an outstanding man in the community. He’s done well to choose you.”

Emily came away from the window. Maybe now was the time to ask Mother the question brewing in her heart ever since Phillip proposed. “Mother, did you love Father when you married him?”

“Oh my, I believed your father made the cotton grow in the spring, I did. He was so handsome and smart, told the best stories that made us all laugh, and was the idol of all the girls in our class.”

“Grandmother and Grandfather were happy with him?”

“Your grandfather thought him a fool.” Mother made a face mimicking Grandfather’s expression and affected a deep voice. “‘The boy’s full of nonsense, Maggie. He’s all talk. What’s this about starting an exchange? He’ll lose his shirt, I tell you, lose it for sure.’” Mother laughed with an arch of her brow. “Papa is singing a different tune now.”

“No doubt he is, especially after Father bought him a touring car for his birthday.” Emily gazed out the window again, watching the life on the street, letting her thoughts drift.

She loved Phillip. Certainly she did or why would she let him caress and kiss her the way he did?

“Where is that Mrs. Caruthers?” Mother paced past the narrow, interior door. “Did she set sail to Paris for the fabric?”

Mother had tried in recent years to book Mrs. Caruthers for special gowns but was always denied. Only since the Saltonstall engagement did Mother
rate
an audience with the queen of seams. It didn’t sit well with Emily, but if having Mrs. Caruthers design her trousseau and wedding attire made Mother happy, then it made Emily happy.

“Sit, Mother, don’t worry. She’ll be along.” She needed Mother to settle down so she could process the nagging feeling caught in her chest.

Unlike Mother, Emily knew Phillip didn’t make cotton grow. Nor did he make her laugh with his zany stories—at least not often. Not even when they were in grammar school together. However, he did make her shiver right down to her bones when he stroked his hand down the length of her neck.

Emily peeked over her shoulder at Mother, who’d taken a rest on the settee. Did Father make Mother’s skin quiver with desire? Oh mercy . . . Emily shut her eyes and shook the very idea from her head. Even if she had the courage and brashness to ask Mother, she did not want to hear the answer.

Angling out the window, Emily drew in a deep, cleansing breath. Yes, she loved Phillip. S Sed ifyhe must.

On the corner of 3rd Avenue, Emily caught sight of a familiar figure. Tall, lean, wearing a telltale burgundy waistcoat and spats. Phillip. Her heart hopscotched. Like Father, Phillip was handsome and smart, well respected in the city, and most assuredly the desire of all the girls in their circle.

She stretched farther out the window and waved. “Phillip. Phillip Saltonstall. Man in the spats. Phillip! You’re the only man who wears them in the day.”

A hand yanked Emily back inside. “Emily Lee Canton, stop that yelling at once. Now you
are
behaving like a dance hall girl. Stars above, a proper gentlewoman does not lean out fourth-floor windows and yell like an uncouth at proper gentlemen. Especially a man of Phillip’s reputation and one who is her fiancé. What on earth?” Mother fidgeted with her cotton gloves, drawing them through her hand over and over.

“Mother, it’s Phillip, the man I’m going to marry. Why can’t I yell out the window to him?” After all, hadn’t she just discovered her true affections? Why not tell the world? Emily shoved the window higher still. “My dear, Phillip, I’m up here—”

But Emily’s words lighted on her tongue and slipped back down her throat, nearly choking her as her eyes beheld the scene below.

A slender reed of a woman with pale skin and pale hair, wearing a royal-blue dress and carrying a matching parasol, leaned into Phillip as he wrapped his arms about her, bending his lips to her . . . neck.

Emily gasped, moving back inside with a quick jerk, banging her head against the window frame. She cried out, smacking her hand against the wound, squeezing her eyes shut, but seeing the woman’s hair glinting in the sun.

“Are you all right?” Mother asked, her attention on the narrow, closed door. “I’ve a mind to go in there and see what’s taking Mrs. Caruthers so long. This is unthinkable.”

What was Phillip doing down there? A woman in his embrace, laughing so gay and carefree? In public no less. The blood filling Emily’s cheeks burned. Had he no decency? No respect? Too late, a moan escaped her chest.

“Emily, what is it?” Mother angled to see out the window.

“Nothing, Mother, a horse threw a shoe is all. You’ve seen it a dozen times.”

“But you moaned.”

“The gelding tripped, I thought—” What? What did she think? Surely she must be imagining things, so far above the ground. She couldn’t be seeing correctly. Other men wore burgundy waistcoats and spats. On a week day. Surely Phillip was not the only one.

With another sly glanc Sherone.e, Emily captured the end of the embrace. The woman pulled away, laughing, popping Phillip’s arm with her umbrella. Phillip reached for her as she headed to the corner, stepping off 19th to cross 3rd.

Emily watched Phillip watching
her
until she vanished in the shadows.

“Here we are, Mrs. Canton. Pardon me for the delay, honey pie, but my assistant failed to unpack all of this lovely fabric. I ordered it from Paris six months ago, quite sure I’d have a special wedding coming up soon. And sure enough, here I do. The lovely Emily Canton. Come away from that window, deary, you’ll spoil your beautiful skin.” Mrs. Caruthers’s arms were laden with bolts of rich, shimmering satin. “I have silk, too, but I do think satin makes such a fine wedding gown. Have you chosen your wedding date?”

“We’re considering March,” Mother said with a proud smile. Emily’s stomach turned. She’d never seen Mother pander to anyone and here she was doing it to Mrs. Caruthers. “Emily, look at this lace. What do you think, darling?”

“I think—”
I think I just saw another woman in my fiancé’s arms
. With another look out the window, Emily caught Phillip striding up 19th in the direction of the Saltonstall building. He raised his hat at a trio of gentlemen and paused to converse, bending backward with laughter.

How jovial the man was after holding that twig of a woman with a ghostly complexion.

“March is a lovely time for weddings. Not too warm, not too cold.” Mrs. Caruthers and Mother conversed as if everything were right and wonderful in the world. “Gives me plenty of time for dressmaking. How many bridesmaids? Of course, your dress as well, Mrs. Canton, and your mother’s, perhaps? And the trousseau.”

“Emily,” Mother called, “what is so interesting out that window? Please do tear yourself away from your curiosities and tell Mrs. Caruthers what you think of this fabric. Have you thought of bridesmaids? Mrs. Caruthers, this satin is buttery soft.”

Emily turned to see Mother smoothing her fingers over a creamy material. “It’s beautiful,” she said with a glance. “So pure and white.”

She went back to the window. The afternoon sat on its celestial perch unaware that a sliver of Emily’s heart had chipped away. She was pure. But was Phillip? Her heart beat at the memory of his skilled touch.

“I do believe this shade is perfect for your skin. Please, dear, over here.” Mrs. Caruthers guided Emily to the stool in the middle of the room and had her step up. Then she held a corner of the satin to Emily’s cheek. “Yes, quite lovely. Shall we decide on a design? I have Goody’s books over here.”

Mother held up pages while Emily stood for Mrs. Caruthers’s measurements.

“You’re a full-figured one, ar Sgurspan>

“Twenty-two is fine with me. I prefer eating. And breathing.”

“Eating?” Mrs. Caruthers arched her brow. “It’s quite evident.”

Emily shot her mother a look.

“We’ll discuss it, Mrs. Caruthers. Thank you for your concern.”

Concern? Mother could be too kind. Emily refused to cut off her air or her stomach, for the sake her figure. Northern girls might want to eat like birds, but Southern girls were robust and hearty. Emily glanced wistfully at the window. The woman she’d seen with Phillip was slender, her petite figure molded by her corset.

“The style is for a thin bride.” Mrs. Caruthers surveyed Emily over her glasses. “I’d think you’d take my opinion on that considering whom you are marrying, Miss Canton.”

“I’d prefer you keep your opinions to yourself.” Emily stepped off her stool, feeling as if she might faint. “Mother, please—”

“Emily Canton, you know full well Mrs. Caruthers is merely advising you. It’s why we’ve retained her excellent services.” Mother pandered quite well. “She’s designed gowns for Birmingham’s most noted families. Now, please, find your good humor and see what design suits you.” Mother tapped a picture in the book. “This style would be lovely on you.”

Emily leaned to see. The gown was ostentatious. And the folds and pleats in the back looked a bit too much like the gown the willowy woman in the street was wearing.

“It’s too ghastly and heavy. I’ll suffocate wearing that much material. Please, keep my gown simple, Mrs. Caruthers.” Emily just wanted to go home, hop on one of Father’s mares, and race up to Red Mountain to clear her head, think, lift her heart to God’s.

Then, perhaps when Phillip came to dinner, she’d find the courage to speak to him about what she’d witnessed today. Though, so far since their engagement, little communication had passed between them using words. Mostly he spoke with impassioned kisses and intimate intonations.

Well, tonight she’d sit on the other side of the parlor, away from his reach. Perhaps suggest a game of cribbage or dominoes.

In the light of day, Emily blushed at what certainly must be the main issue on Phillip’s mind. Their wedding night. But if she’d learned anything from meeting up with Daniel last week, it was to get her feelings out in the open.

“What shall we do to secure your ser Scur3">

“I’ll write up a work order, Mrs. Canton. You pay half as the deposit. I’ll need Emily to decide on a gown pattern and how many bridesmaids as soon as possible. Of course, she’ll need to choose a pattern for their dresses as well. We’ll also need to start sewing on her trousseau right away. I have a standard offering of gowns and lingerie that I think Miss Canton will find suitable.”

“Certainly. How generous. Do you have a brochure in case Mr. Canton and I want to add to Emily’s trousseau?”

“I do indeed. Take the Goody’s book for the evening and make your choices. I’ll expect your deposit by the end of the week. As you know, I’m quite in demand.”

Emily didn’t care for Mrs. Caruthers speaking down to Mother. After all, Father with his exchange company was fast becoming one of the most prominent men in Birmingham, perhaps even all of Alabama.

“Only one dressmaker in this city compares to me, but I’ll never have to worry about her infringing on my business. She’s quite at the disadvantage.”