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“It already doesn’t fit me.”
The three women were peering into a mirror on the third story of Eden Hall. Dolly was in the front, a long black gown falling around her figure like an hourglass. Behind her, Ethel was making sure that each small button in the train along Dolly’s back was fastened in the correct way.
Beulah was fussing with her hair, jutting every available pin she could find off Dolly’s vanity into her head to keep it from falling out of place.
Ethel was trying not to chuckle at Dolly. “The dress will fit for today at least. Though you are beginning to show.”
Dolly looked down at her belly and splayed both hands overtop like a shell. She was still small, and her stomach had been easily camouflaged, but the starkness of Dolly’s white hands over her black tummy gave the impression of an empty ribcage spanning across her stomach.
“I know you’re not all right. Do you want to talk about it, Dolly?” Ethel asked, glancing over at Beulah who had quit her grumbling in the face of solemnity.
Dolly shrugged, but there was emotion sparkling in her eyes. “No. Talking about it won’t change anything and besides, you both wouldn’t understand.” She looked sidelong, and as bleak comprehension struck, Dolly smiled.
Beulah and I are attending the hanging of a man who killed our friend and brother.
You’re attending a loved one’s funeral.
Ethel nodded.
“I have something for you,” she said, fetching a box from her Gladstone. The windows were open to let in the sunlight, and a bird alighted on the windowsill. “I meant to give this to you earlier, but... here.”
The box was velvet with a silver trim. It was clasped with a pewter hook.
“Are they...swallows?” Dolly asked, holding the box aloft in one hand.
“Yes, and they’re good luck.” She took one of the two matching birds perched upon a silk cloth and pinned it upon Dolly’s breast. “Swallows have a connection to the sea, and they symbolise love and patience.” Ethel took the other and pinned it at the hollow of her own neck. “Lazuli is a stone of truth.”
You may wear yours for John if you like. But I will wear mine for Ernest.
“T-thank you, Etty. I—” Dolly watched her reflection in the mirror and turned the pin from side to side to see how it caught the light. “I...” she was breaking down, reliving a future that had not yet passed.
Ethel embraced her. They had told her not to go, but Dolly had insisted. She had to see him one last time and look at him so he knew she was all right, that she still loved him.
Dolly hadn’t said so, but Ethel knew, and so they all resolved to go together.
“Have you been reading Little Women?” Ethel asked as Dolly settled. The small novel had been on the desk when Ethel entered, but she had yet to enquire about it.
Dolly sniffed and wiped her cheek. “I’ve actually finished it already,” she said, her eyes softening. “Falconwood gave me plenty of time to read, and I saw you reading it once. One of the nurses was kind enough to bring it to me.”
Ethel was touched. “Did you like it? I’ve read it through a few times. I think I’m on chapter forty now.”
“I did—”
“If you’re takin’ Dolly back to Summerside, I’m afraid you’ll never read again, Miss Ethel.” Beulah stifled a laugh and sat down upon the nearby window box.
“What does that mean, Beulah?” Dolly replied, staring daggers at the young maid. Beulah giggled.
Ethel leant over Dolly’s shoulder and whispered in her ear, “I think it means you talk almost as much as she does.” Ethel laughed, flinching away from Beulah’s physical retort.
