My Bratty Wife
Chapter 211 - Two Hundred And Eleven

Chapter 211: Chapter Two Hundred And Eleven

The afternoon sunlight streamed into Suzy’s spacious room, illuminating the organized clutter of dressmaking. Suzy stood patiently on a low wooden platform, holding a letter written on thick cream paper in Ryan’s familiar handwriting. She was meant to be focusing on the final fitting for her gown for the upcoming orphanage jubilee, but her husband’s words captivated her.

Madame Helena knelt at Suzy’s feet, carefully pinning the hem of the gown. The dress itself was a lovely creation of soft, pastel colored silk, designed to be elegant yet appropriately modest for the occasion. Pins were held firmly between Madame Helena’s lips as she worked with quiet concentration.

Suzy reread a line from Ryan’s letter, something tender and unexpectedly witty he’d written about how he would love to be by her side, kissing her neck and whispering sweet things into her ear, and she couldn’t suppress a soft giggle that escaped before she could stop it. A warm blush crept up her neck, betraying her thoughts. She quickly tried to regain her composure, hoping Madame Helena hadn’t noticed.

But it was too late. Madame Helena paused, needle poised in mid-air. She didn’t look up, but cleared her throat pointedly. "Ahem."

Suzy’s blush deepened. "Oh! Goodness, I do apologize, Madame Helena," she stammered, lowering the letter slightly. "My mind wandered. I wasn’t paying attention to standing still, was I?" She straightened her posture, trying to look suitably serious.

Madame Helena finally looked up, a faint, knowing twinkle in her eyes, though her expression remained professional. "A drifting Duchess is easily pricked by a stray pin or needle, Your Grace," she said, her tone dry but not unkind. "And I should very much dislike facing the Duke’s displeasure should I accidentally mar his wife’s lovely skin before such an important event."

"Oh no, of course! I’m terribly sorry," Suzy apologized again, feeling rather foolish.

Madame Helena allowed herself a small smile, returning to her pinning and stitching . "It seems the Duke’s letters bring you some cheer. You miss him, then?" she asked, her voice softening slightly.

Suzy let out a soft sigh, the longing clear in her voice. "Dearly," she admitted simply. "More than I thought possible."

Madame Helena expertly folded and stitched another section of the hem. She stood up slowly, brushing off her knees and stepping back to survey her work with a critical eye. "Well," she said, tilting her head, "it is a great shame he cannot attend the jubilee himself. He will miss seeing how truly ravishing his wife will look."

"Is it finished?" Suzy asked, hesitant to move.

"It is," Madame Helena confirmed with a nod of satisfaction. "Perfect, I think. Step down carefully now, Your Grace, mind the stray pins on the floor , and take a look in the mirror."

Suzy carefully stepped off the low platform, the silk skirt whispering around her ankles. She turned towards the tall, gilded mirror that dominated one wall of the room. As her reflection came into view, her breath caught in her throat.

The dress was more than just beautiful; it was perfect. The soft color brought out the warmth in her complexion and the reddish glints in her hair. The cut was simple but exquisitely tailored, skimming her figure gracefully before flaring out in soft folds to the floor. Delicate silver embroidery, like frost on a winter morning, adorned the neckline and sleeves, catching the light subtly. It fit as though it were spun just for her.

"Oh, Madame," Suzy whispered, her voice filled with genuine awe. She turned slowly, watching the silk swirl around her. She lifted a hand to touch the intricate embroidery at her sleeve. "It truly is beautiful." She couldn’t help but smile at the elegant woman staring back at her from the glass.

Beaming at her client’s obvious delight, Madame Helena began efficiently gathering her pins, needles, and fabric remnants, packing them neatly into her large sewing kit. A happy customer was the best advertisement, after all.

"I’m so glad it pleases Your Grace," the dressmaker said sincerely.

"Pleases me? It’s wonderful!" Suzy exclaimed, turning from the mirror. She immediately thought of practicalities. "Noah!" she called towards the door.

Almost instantly, he appeared at the doorway, bowing respectfully. "Your Grace?"

"Noah, please escort Madame Helena out," Suzy instructed. "And please see ensure Madame Helena is paid very generously for her exceptional work and her time today."

Noah bowed again. "Of course, Your Grace." He turned to the dressmaker, who now had her kit packed and her shawl draped over her arm. "This way, Madame," he gestured politely.

Madame Helena dipped into a respectful curtsy towards Suzy. "Thank you for your patronage, Your Grace. It is always a pleasure--"

"No, no," Suzy interrupted gently, waving a hand. "The pleasure was all mine, Madame Helena. I should be thanking you! The dress is perfect. Thank you very much for your wonderful service. I am more than satisfied."

A warm smile spread across Madame Helena’s face. "Thank you, Your Grace." She nodded politely and followed Noah out of the room.

The door had barely closed behind them when it opened again, admitting Irene, Suzy’s lively personal maid, followed closely by the comforting presence of Mrs. Agnes, who carried a silver tray laden with a porcelain teapot, cups, and small plate of biscuits.

"Oh, Your Grace!" Irene exclaimed, her eyes widening as she took in the gown. "The dress! It’s finished! It looks absolutely breathtaking! Madame Helena has outdone herself!"

Mrs. Agnes murmured her agreement, her eyes filled with warm approval. "Truly lovely, my dear. You look radiant."

Irene placed the tray carefully on a side table near the chaise lounge. Her mind, however, was already racing ahead to the jubilee. "This means you are quite ready for the event! Oh, I have the most wonderful idea for your hair," she chattered, bustling around Suzy, though careful not to touch the precious gown. "An elegant twist, perhaps woven with pearls? It would complement the neckline perfectly! And the sapphire earrings the Duke gifted you would be just the right touch of color. We must ensure the carriage is polished and ready precisely on time – the orphanage committee expects you by ..." Irene continued her enthusiastic planning, checking accessories laid out on the dressing table and mentally organizing the schedule for the jubilee day.

Amidst Irene’s cheerful flurry, Mrs. Agnes moved calmly towards Suzy. "Come now, child," she said softly, her practical nature taking over. "Let me help you out of this beautiful gown before anything happens to it. We’ll hang it carefully straight away."

Suzy nodded gratefully and turned her back, allowing Mrs. Agnes’s experienced fingers to begin deftly undoing the row of tiny, silk-covered buttons. As she worked, Mrs. Agnes studied Suzy’s reflection in the mirror, her brow furrowing slightly with concern.

"Are you quite alright, my child?" she asked gently, her voice low enough not to interrupt Irene’s monologue about guest lists. "You seem a little pale suddenly."

As the dress loosened, Suzy leaned forward slightly, taking a slow breath. The room felt a bit too warm all of a sudden. "I don’t know," she admitted, her voice quiet. She pressed a hand lightly against her stomach. "I just... I feel rather strange all of a sudden. Nauseous." A wave of mild nausea washed over her, unpleasant and unexpected.

Mrs. Agnes paused in her unbuttoning, her concern deepening. "Nauseous?" she repeated, her gaze sharpening. "Do you feel properly sick? Do you have a fever?" She reached out and gently placed the back of her cool, dry hand against Suzy’s forehead.

"No," Suzy murmured, shaking her head slightly. "No fever. It’s not like being truly ill." She tried to pinpoint the feeling. "Perhaps it’s just... I realize now I haven’t eaten anything substantial since breakfast this morning. I was so busy with the Duke’s letters and then this fitting..." Her explanation sounded reasonable, even to herself. Lack of food could certainly make one feel unwell.

Her eyes scanned the room, searching for another reason for the sudden discomfort, and landed on the tea tray Irene had brought in. She remembered sipping some of the fragrant herbal tea earlier, while Madame Helena was still working. It had tasted perfectly normal then. But now...

She frowned slightly, the thought faint but persistent, pushing aside the hunger theory for a moment. She whispered the question, almost unconsciously, her voice barely audible above Irene’s continued chatter about seating arrangements.

"Or... is it the tea?"