Chapter Seven
They returned to London after a week in Kilderry, and Natalie was more heartbroken than she thought she would be to leave the cottage behind.
"London has more to do, and you can't beat it for food or convenience, but Kilderry's special," she said the last morning. She spread some locally made blackberry jam onto a slice of soda bread and passed it to Nathan, who ate it happily.
"It is. I'm glad you agree. London is splendid, but perhaps we could raise the child in Kilderry. The schools are good, but if they aren't, there's always tutors."
She slid him a curious look, but she didn't say anything. They had talked extensively after he had come to Kilderry, but at the end, all they knew was that they wanted to be with each other. He had not said he loved her, and she had not said it again, but it was becoming increasingly clearer that they needed to learn more about the fire that came up between them.
Their future was still shrouded in mystery, but for now, the warmth that covered them was too beautiful to disrupt.
A few days after they returned to London, Nathan had to work, but he left her with a card with a discreet address on it in a part of town she didn't recognize.
"You have an appointment at ten," he said, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. "You should get going."
"An appointment? What kind of appointment?" Natalie cried in surprise, but he only grinned at her.
"You'll see."
She dressed simply for the appointment, by turns curious and slightly afraid of what it could be about. She came to a small shop on a fashionable street, and when she entered, she was met with a kind-faced woman in a man's suit, a worn and tattered tape measure draped over her shoulders.
"Oh very fine," the woman said with a crisp accent. "You must be Natalie Baker. Come on in."
"Excuse me, are you making me a dress?" she asked in surprise, allowing herself to be ushered into one of the inner rooms.
"As a matter of fact, I am making you a work of art," the woman said with a smile. "And in a hurry, no less. We have no time to waste, my dear, so come on, off with it."
It should have felt embarrassing at the very least to be stripped to her underwear—plain peach today, thankfully—and stood up on a dais as Mrs. Beecher and her two assistants took every measurement possible, but it was oddly freeing. The designer was utterly professional, treating Natalie as if she were a hunk of marble or a block of wood, and her assistants followed suit. Natalie thought they would be finished with her when the measurements were taken, but Mrs. Beecher nodded her towards the overstuffed armchair in the corner, complete with some reading materials and a light snack on the small table nearby.
Every few minutes, she was asked to stand up and model a mock-up or to have a piece of fabric draped over her or compared to her complexion, her eyes or her hair. It soon became clear that more than being a tailor, Mrs. Beecher was a visionary, and she was pleased to have a canvas like Natalie to work on.
During a break, Natalie considered for a moment and then called Nathan.
"This woman is mad," she said. "She held up eight different shades of green to my cheek before saying they were all perfectly rotten."
"I think you look amazing in green, but she's the expert. I'll defer to her judgment."
"What's going on, Nathan?" she asked, a little of her anxiety coming into her voice. "Why do I need a dress like this?"
"It's a surprise. If you're really nervous, I'll tell you, but I think surprises are fun, myself."
She started to insist that he tell her, but then she shook her head. "No. Surprise it is. I trust you."
There was a pause, and for a moment, she felt as if she had revealed too much of herself. They weren't just people fulfilling a contract anymore, she knew that much, but the question of who they were to each other and what they meant, that was something a little bit different. She felt as if she had crossed some kind of line that she shouldn't have crossed. She started to speak again, to lighten the moment, but then Nathan laughed softly.
“I'm so glad you do. Thank you. Unless Mrs. Beecher decides to keep you as a dress up doll, I'll see you tonight, all right?”
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Around three in the afternoon, there was a call from Nathan's secretary Brooke, who firmly told Mrs. Beecher that she would have to make do with the measurements she had because Ms. Baker had an engagement. Mrs. Beecher was too restrained and dignified to swear, but she looked mightily put out even as Natalie apologized and left the shop.
There was an actual limousine waiting for her outside, and she stared for a moment as the chauffeur held the door open for her.
“Mr. Thomas took the liberty of having food ordered for you,” he said.
“Oh, how kind,” Natalie said faintly.
This was the kind of luxury that she had never really imagined before in her life. It was strange to recline in an elegant limousine, touching the butter soft, dove gray leather seats with a wondering finger as she picked at a tray of delicious appetizers. More than being delicious, it was arranged artfully, a fan of colors that made her smile. This detail was not lost on Natalie.
I feel as if I was starved for beauty before I met Nathan, she thought. Now I'm being drowned in it.
The next stop turned out to be an elegant shop that was just as discreet. She was escorted up the stairs by a smiling young woman and set in a salon chair that seemed to be upholstered in delicate, soft chamois. Two older women in severe black conversed over her head while a younger one readied a small tub of hot water and a number of esoteric tools that Natalie wasn't even sure she recognized.
“Don't worry, miss,” the young lady said with a wink. “We'll take good care of you.”
The next two hours were another revelation for Natalie. She had thought she was decadent when she threw a lipstick or a nail polish in with her groceries. These women had made a career out of beauty, and from her head to her feet, she was being inducted into it.
It was a little like stretching out on a salon chair for a hurricane to pass over her, and though she flinched when they plucked what felt like her whole face, the light massages for her feet and hands made her sigh.
“You really don't have to do that,” she protested when one of the women filled the foot bath, but she was met with a withering look.
“Beauty is work,” the woman said sternly. “This is our work.”
The words echoed in Natalie's mind, and it occurred to her that this was what women like Leilani al-Rami did every few days, if not every day. They spent money and time to make sure they looked good, for themselves, for the waiting cameras and for their men.
She was too distracted to do much more than glimpse at her reflection in the mirror, but she made sure to thank the women on her way out. They looked pleased at least, so that likely meant she didn't look terrible. Natalie half-expected another call from Brooke to tell her that she had one more appointment, but to her relief, she was allowed to return to the townhouse. It was almost six by this point, and there was a box wrapped in gold foil waiting for her.
She bit her lip for a moment, but then giving in to curiosity, she took the box up to her bedroom, the one she hadn't slept in since they had returned to Kilderry. When she drew out the dress, her breath caught in her throat.
Apparently, Mrs. Beecher had found a green that she could tolerate after all. There was something slightly vintage about the dress, for all that it had been sewn up just a few hours ago. Underneath was a sheath of dull green silk, and overlaying that was a layer of gorgeous transparent lace. It was a beautiful piece of art, beaded here and there with sparkling crystals, and Natalie knew instinctively it might cost as much as three months’ rent at her old apartment, likely more.
God, I'm not sure I can do this, she thought. It was too decadent, too much.
She was almost ready to put the dress aside so she didn't have to deal with it, but she found that her fingers didn't want to leave it. She brushed her fingertips over the soft lace, the smooth silk, and finally, she couldn't resist.
It was simple enough to pull on, even avoiding her fashionably styled hair and the makeup she was just beginning to be able to ignore. The dress settled around her with a dignified weight that startled her, and after tugging up the nearly invisible zipper that ran along the side, she turned to gaze at herself in the mirror.
The woman who stared back at her was gorgeous, taking her breath away. Her slight curves, which she had always thought made her look boyish and plain, were smoothed and emphasized by the fall of the dress. There was something almost Grecian about it, and the woman who looked back at her stood with a kind of pride and dignity that Natalie had never thought she would have herself.
When she added the shoes, green silk and embroidered with beads, she looked every inch the lady.
So why didn't it make her happy?
She only had a moment to think about it, and then she heard Nathan's familiar step downstairs. She wondered when she had learned to recognize it, and she hurried down the stairs.
Nathan coming home from work usually had a jacket slung over his shoulder, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat and his sleeves rolled up. Some part of Natalie loved seeing him like that, because it meant he was away from work, and he was, in a strange way, utterly hers. But tonight when she came around the bend in the staircase, the sight of her lover stopped her short on the staircase, her lips slightly parted.
She had seen pictures of Nathan in a tuxedo before, of course, but they were pictures. Nothing compared with the reality of the man himself. The stark black tuxedo was cut for his broad shoulders and slim hips, and the power and masculine beauty of it all took Natalie's breath away even as a part of her thought that she did not recognize him at all.
“Well,” Nathan said huskily. “That's beautiful.”
Suddenly she wanted to cover herself with her hands, perhaps even flee back up the stairs, but that would have been ridiculous. Instead, she took a steadying breath and walked down the stairs as he gestured for her.
“God, but you are lovely,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “But not quite complete yet, I think. You need jewels.”
She thought of the jewelry she had with her, a simple, wooden bead necklace that she had bought on a whim, a sterling silver little ring. It would look like junk on an outfit like this, and she touched her throat self-consciously.
She started to say something, but Nathan was offering her a velvet box, a slight smile on his face.
“Here. I picked this out after a quick conversation with the jeweler and Mrs. Beecher. It took some doing, but they both decided that this would suit.”
Holding her breath, Natalie opened the box, and when she saw what was inside, she gasped.
“Oh, Nathan, I can't,” she said, and there was perhaps a little more truth in that than she wanted there to be.
“Nonsense, of course you can. You deserve to look ravishing.”
The necklace was designed to rest perfectly in the low neckline of her dress, clusters of shimmering gems she was certain were diamonds leading towards a central gem that gleamed green. The necklace was beautiful enough on its own, but it was matched with two dangling earrings of diamond and the same green gemstone that graced the necklace.
“This...is this emerald?”
“No, though emerald was certainly a contender. The jeweler called this tsavorite garnet. I thought, well, you deserved something as rare as you are.”
I don't, I don't, Natalie thought almost in a panic, but she summoned up a smile for him.
“Here, let me put it on you...”
She turned as he fastened the heavy necklace for her. It felt almost unbearably cool for a moment before it warmed to her skin. She fastened the earrings herself, and when she glanced in the tall mirror in the hall, she barely recognized herself.
“Is this really me?”
Nathan came to stand behind her, darkly handsome in a way that made her heart beat faster. She watched the elegant couple in the mirror as he leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on the side of her neck.
“Of course it is.”