"Yes," Ivy said with a sigh. "I don't know what to think."

Davis came into the room and announced two more callers.

"My dear, I am delighted to see you again," Emma Callum said as she crossed toward me, reaching out with both her hands. "It hardly seems that a year has passed since your dear husband's passing. But here we are."

"Yes, here we are," I said, answering her simpering smile with one of my own as I took her hands. "It's kind of you to come. How are you, Arabella?"

"Very well, thank you." The newcomers sat, and Arabella Dunleigh accepted the muffin I offered her.

"I am desperately excited for your wedding," Emma said to Ivy. "Mother tells me Worth made your dress."

"Yes, it's lovely. I'm looking forward to wearing it," Ivy answered, considerably less lively now than she had been before we'd been interrupted.

"I don't know what I shall wear," Emma continued. I didn't believe her; she spent a large portion of her waking hours thinking and talking about her extensive wardrobe. Unfortunately, despite the large expense her father went to in order to dress his only daughter well, her clothing perfectly reflected Emma's own tastes and whims; the result was not attractive. Without fail, she chose garish colors and unflattering styles. Her face, I admit, was lovely, but it was easy to overlook when blinded by the bright yellow of the gown she was wearing. The brown parasol she carried added to the total effect by making her look something like a spindly sunflower. "I'm certain that it won't be long until we're planning my own wedding, and I do want to enjoy myself in the meantime."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," I said, knowing full well Emma was beginning another of her assaults on me.

"You know better than the rest of us the perils of married life, Emily. The role of matron is not nearly as enjoyable as that of belle of the ball. Although I suppose you never really had a chance to settle into being a married woman, did you?"