Chapter 3 - Three
"Wake up!" A sudden splash of cold water hit Delia’s face. She gasped, jolting upright in bed, her heart pounding. The familiar face of Mrs. Gable, the head maid of Ellington Manor, loomed over her.
"Her Ladyship wants you to get ready," Mrs. Gable said, her voice brisk as always. "You’re to go to the modiste for your wedding dress fitting. Your soon-to-be mother-in-law is waiting."
Delia blinked, water dripping from her eyelashes. Wedding dress fitting? Mother-in-law? The words seemed to echo in her ears, making no sense. She looked around the room. It was her old room in Ellington Manor, exactly as she remembered it. The pale blue wallpaper, the heavy velvet curtains, the familiar scent of lavender from the potpourri on her dresser.
A wave of confusion washed over her. Had the accident been a dream? A terrible nightmare? But it had felt so real. The pain, the fear, George’s pity, the crash...
Mrs. Gable sighed impatiently. "Are you deaf, child? Get up! You don’t want to keep Lady Pembroke waiting."
As the maid left the room, muttering about lazy girls, Delia slowly got out of bed. Her legs felt surprisingly strong, not aching and broken as they had been in her last moments. She walked to the large, ornate mirror on the wall.
She stared at her reflection. It was truly her. Her eyes, wide with disbelief. Her long, dark hair, disheveled from sleep. Her face, young and unlined, just as it had been before... before everything.
"It’s really me," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. A fragile, disbelieving happiness began to bloom in her chest. She raised a hand to touch her face, then her arm. That’s when she saw it.
On the inside of her left wrist, just below her palm, was a bud of roses with pink petals that looked like it was tattooed to her skin. What does it mean? She rubbed at them, but they didn’t smudge or fade. It was strange, but in her current state of shock and relief, she simply brushed it aside. She would figure it out later.