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chapter eleven: runaway bride
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Charlotte Wentworth had forgotten how hectic days leading up to weddings were.
First came all the decisions that had to be made. When the wedding would take place. The theme in which the entire event would revolve around. The color scheme the decorations would follow. Picking the venue and the way everything would be placed. What food would be served before and after the ceremony. However, this time around, it was different. While Charlotte was on the forefront of all the decisions for her own wedding, while also thinking she would be in charge of her sister's wedding, she was taking no part in it. The Queen of England took complete control. All Charlotte had to do was make sure her dress fit, walk down the aisle and look presentable. It sounded easy enough.
Then came the waiting game. Constantly calming the bride's nerves of the impending day that approached was a full job in and of itself. It was important for Charlotte to remember that she and Amelia were two very different people. Charlotte was more outgoing, outspoken. She was unafraid to speak of something she disliked and was more likely to shrug something off if something did not look perfect in her eyes. Amelia, however, was the complete opposite. While she wanted everything to be perfect, she could not find it in herself to speak her mind on things to make sure things were just the way she wanted. So when it came to levels of patience, Charlotte was the calm one while Amelia was constantly reminding herself that taking deep breaths were normal human activities.
Finally came the big day the English ton kept buzzing about. Charlotte was awoken by ladies in waiting just as the Sun peeked over the meadows the morning of the most important day of her sister's life. Before she knew it, she was pulled out of the comfort of her covers, sat in front of her vanity mirror and picked and prodded until she looked up to high society standards. After all, her sister would be getting married in the Queen's Palace. She was dressed in a floor length royal blue dress with capped sleeves with lace embroidery as an ode to their mother, who wore lace in every dress she could get her hands on. She kept her hair simple, up with some pieces framing her face, though if it were up to her, it would be down like it always was.
Once she was able to shake off her ladies in waiting, Charlotte found her sister in a separate dressing room of her own. Truthfully, the young woman did not mind getting ready on her own as opposed to with her sister. She needed time to be alone with her thoughts, time to prepare herself for the day ahead, time to prepare herself for the life that is ahead of her after the bell chimes signaling the first day of a happy union.
No matter the nerves and drama leading up to the events of the day, Charlotte could not deny how beautiful her sister was. Amelia had yet to even put her dress on and yet had already started to look like a budding bride. The older of the two sisters always believed the younger was a natural beauty, and looked like a carbon copy of their mother. The gentle essence of unknown beauty was mesmerizing to everyone around her. It was maddening how magnetizing it was, how it made everyone naturally gravitate themselves toward her. Everyone saw Amelia's beauty, inside and out, but the girl herself.
