Then Comes Murder

Within the Orchard (part two)

"You're happy then," she said, holding Caroline's hands in her own. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Of course I am, darling," Caroline answered, laughing. "And now we must focus on your happiness."

"As long as you are happy, I am content."

Caroline scoffed and tucked her arm through Nora's. "You'll be happier when you see the present I have for you."

Nora let herself be dragged from the party with only the softest of arguments that the bride was missing her wedding breakfast. Caroline laughed and walked faster, proclaiming that the guests were too busy with iced buns and gossip to notice that she and George had been otherwise occupied for over an hour.

"Not even my mother seemed to notice our absence," Caroline said, her smile wicked. "And she was the one attempting to explain each and every manœuvre for keeping a husband's undying interest last night."

Color rose to her cheeks as Nora laughed in surprise. "What could have possessed her to share that?"

"The duke's toast, of course," Caroline said as they pushed into the bridal room. The last vestiges of the wedding whirlwind remained strewn across the room: her bouquet was limp within a half-filled vase, ribbons and hair pins littered the floor. As her cousin pulled her to sit amongst the scattered boxes, Nora watched her blue eyes carefully.

Nora murmured, "It was quite the toast, wasn't it?"

Caroline laughed scathingly as she searched through the boxes. "Yes, I did like the part where he called me a whore." Honed by the twist of her frown, the word seemed unbearably sharp in her cousin's mouth. "He's the fool of course. If I were half the adventuress he accused me of being, I wouldn't have needed my mother's suggestions."

"Though I imagine George appreciated her diligence."

Caroline tossed her head back and laughed. The playful sound filled the room. Holding a thin box, she joined Nora on the bed. She pushed over the unopened box with a small smile. "Open it."

Nora raised an eyebrow as she pulled away the twine. They had a small allowance of pin money from Nora's father, but due to the stripped nature of the estate, both women had learned to live without the jewels and trinkets their peers enjoyed. It had been easy, as girls, to decide that their gifts to one another would be those intangible or self-made.

Inside the box, lie a swath of beautiful fabric, smooth as water beneath Nora's fingertips. The dress was cream and gold, detailed with chenille vines and leaves embroidered by an expert hand. For all its simplicity, the skirt was soft muslin with a sheer silk overlay that must have cost Caroline a fortune.

"You're wearing it, of course," Caroline said before Nora could protest. "I had it specifically made for you, so anyone else would be swimming in the fabric." She was smiling, tears in her eyes. "And don't dream of paying me back. It's the first gift from my dowery. George loaned me an advance."

"It's too much," Nora whispered.

"Of course not. I wish I could give you more. I do think you are the only person who knows me," she said softly, leaning her brow to Nora's shoulder. "I don't know how I'll live without you."

"Perhaps I'll move in," Nora said, folding the gown back into the box. She blinked to keep her own eyes dry. Though her mouth twitched, her heart felt heavy. "Your children will need their spinster aunt to teach them how to be contrary."

Night after night the kitchen had prepared an enviable spread. Rabbit with onions, cauliflower, garden green beans, lamb with cucumbers, pea soup, new potatoes, sweetbread roasts... and that still paled to the dinner set the night of the wedding.