Page 53 of The Other Omega

“I know you, which is sufficient.”

I laughed, then stopped when Eleanor’s disapproving gaze landed on me.

“Do not encourage her.”

I kept quiet and watched Ivy out of the corner of my eye as she directed the maid towards the bed.

“Your sister’s travelling attire has already been prepared.” Eleanor’s voice was so stern that I felt the urge to apologise, even though I hadn’t done anything! “Three seamstresses spent weeks completing it. And this…” She gestured towards the bags on the bed. “…is out of the question.”

Ivy’s confidence faltered. Her hands disappeared behind her back. “I’ve made something for Elowen.” Her voice had lost all its earlier brightness.

Oh, Ivy. I couldn’t just sit there and watch her get told off. She might not be my Ivy, but she was still Ivy, and if she was anything like mine, that brave little face was hiding something much softer underneath.

“What is it?”

Eleanor turned to me. “Elowen, there is no time for one of Ivy’s schemes.” She looked back at Ivy. “My answer is no.”

“Mother,” Nora said, “she has devoted months to it.”

I looked at Ivy. “Can I see?”

Eleanor turned towards me, ready to object.

“Please, Mum.”

God forgive me. I was surely going straight to hell for manipulating these people.

Eleanor sighed, her expression softening a little. She looked from Ivy to the garment bags, then back at me.

“Very well.” She lifted a finger before either of us could speak. “Only because it is your day, Elowen.” She turned to Ivy. “We will discuss this after your sister’s departure.”

Ivy brightened so quickly that I wondered whether that hurt little face had been an act. Cheeky! I almost laughed at how easily she’d played us.

“I hadn’t intended it to take so long, Elowen.” Ivy opened one of the bags, barely containing her excitement. “Still, I’m glad of the extra time. It allowed me to perfect my technique.”

Midnight-blue fabric appeared beneath the dark covering, followed by the glint of silver thread. Ivy lifted the gown free. It had a fitted, structured leather bodice that softened at the waist, where it met a heavy midnight-blue skirt. Narrow leather panels ran down either side, and silver embroidery climbed from the hem in delicate, overlapping patterns that formed mountains across the skirt. Some were little more than distant outlines; others were detailed enough to show snow resting along their ridges.

“High Mountain!” Ivy said, her scent blooming with pride. Every eye in the suddenly quiet room was on the gown, and she lifted her chin. “I had to rework the mountains; the originals looked rather like teeth.”

“They did,” Nora confirmed.

“They look beautiful now.” I wished I could think of something better to say to someone who’d made a gown like that.

Ivy beamed and nodded to Nora, who reached into the second garment bag and drew out a thick cape of midnight-blue wool lined with sapphire silk. Silver mountains continued around its edges.

Eleanor moved closer and examined a seam. “This is exceptionally good work.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“Who assisted you?”

“The leather came from Father’s stores,” Nora said. “Widow Turner taught her how to work it, Mr Finch assisted with the dye, and the blacksmith made the clasps.”

“And you supplied the silver thread,” Ivy added.

Eleanor slowly turned to her. “Did I?”

“You weren’t using it, Mother.”